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wannaeatramyeon · 5 months

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Jake Kim x Reader: Jealous

G/N. Silly + fluffy. Spawned from chatting with @steamedeggs, as always.

"Who's that?"

Jake follows your eye line.

"Samuel Seo," He tells you with a sigh. Whether that's a result of their meeting on the Pier or something else you can't be sure.

"The famous Samuel Seo," you mutter.

You watch him gracefully fold his limbs into a fancy executive car and lament the shitbox Sinu has left Jake, "Oh damn, he's hot and loaded?"

Jake huffs a small exasperated laugh, curling his arm around your shoulders. "Some would consider him hot and loaded, yes."

You throw your boyfriend a cheeky grin, raking over his form with greedy eyes.

"Obviously not as hot as you, though."

"Obviously."

Listen, Jake does not lack confidence. Jake is secure. With his appearance, his personality, his finances- no wait, scratch the last one.

Bottom line: Jake is perfectly fine with himself.

Lua has called him egotistical and conceited at times, but that's besides the point. Vivi has commented that he's ugly to his face and he couldn't care less. (All the girls throwing themselves at him in the club certainly showed otherwise.)

Sometimes even you think it is grossly unfair. Jake has won the lottery in the looks and personality department. He is beyond charming, winning hearts wherever he goes. Not even his battle scars dull his shine, adding only a sexy and bad boy air to this giant golden retriever of a man.

Anyway, the point is-

It's hard to phase Jake. It's nigh on impossible for his jealousy to flare up.

Yet.

"What was that on his neck?"

"Whose?"

"Samuel Seo's."

"You mean his tattoos?"

"Huh, neck tattoos? That's bold."

Jake watches you type in neck tattoos, and if he isn't mistaken, you look impressed.

'What's impressive about neck tattoos?' He wonders, leaning over to look at the designs on your phone.

"You want me to get a neck tattoo?" He angles his head to show off his throat and your phone no longer holds your attention. You're desperate to sink your teeth in. Add your own markings.

"Or what about a face tattoo?" Jake grins, "Tear drop under one eye? Writing on the other cheek? Some big letters? Big Deal?"

Picturing his suggestion, you wrinkle your nose. "Definitely not-"

"'Cos I guess these aren't enough for you, huh?"Jake raises an eyebrow, one corner of his lips pulled up and flexing his biceps.

It's obnoxious but goddamn this man. Enough of his charm shines through that it's sexy, a touch silly, and a lot endearing.

"Does your friend actually need glasses?"

Jake mentally flips through the list of people he knows. Friend? With glasses? "Samuel?"

You nod.

"Probably. Not sure. He never wore them in Big Deal."

"So they're just for show? He's a poser?"

Jake chuckles at your words and shrugs.

"Hmm," you tap your chin, "It does make him look smart-"

"Samuel is smart."

"-and sophisticated. You want a pair?"

"C’mon," Jake looks at you with mock hurt and clutching his heart, "I already am smart and sophisticated."

"Sure you are."

"And I look it!"

"Absolutely."

"Hey!"

“You’re pretty tall, right?”

Jake blinks, because what a question. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes, except maybe professional basketball players.

“...Yes.”

“And Samuel is the same height as you?”

“I think so?”

“Huh.”

“What do you mean huh?”

“Nothing. Just… huh.” You begin to walk away but Jake grabs onto your arm and yanks you back. You fall into his chest with an ‘oof’.

“I’m not tall enough for you?”

“7ft might be nice. Maybe 8ft. Why not double digits. 10ft!”

“Yeah,” he laughs and rolls his eyes, “I’ll get right on that.”

Jake is sulky and pouty.

He knows you’re teasing. Messing around, playing. Hell, he teases you enough.

Despite this. He is sulky and he is pouty.

"Jake..." you plop yourself into his lap, "You know I'm only joking right?"

He gives you a sidelong glance even as he angles his cheek for a kiss.

"I think you're the best," You give him a smooch. "Your tattoos are hot," Another smooch. "You're very smart."

"And sophisticated," he grumbles, though he makes no attempt to hide the smile creeping over his face.

"The most sophisticated!" You kiss him loudly on the lips this time. "You should teach people how to be as sophisticated as you are. Charge them a billion won each to listen to you talk about sophistication. And you’re the tallest. A giant. The biggest man to have ever existed. I don’t know how you fit that massive head through doors,” You squeeze his shoulders, “How do you even get this huge body in a building.”

Jake bursts into laughter at your ridiculousness.

“I even love your awful death-trap that you call a car. With no air conditioning and no airbags and seatbelts that jam when they shouldn’t."

Jake clicks his tongue at you, "Now I know you're lying. Even I hate that stupid car. And it’s not mine."

“Ok,” you give in, “I do hate it.”

Jake’s face turns soft and tender. He pulls you close, until your foreheads are touching and you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “I think you’re the best and hot and smart and sophisticated. You’re not that tall and you don’t have a car... But you are mine though.”

“Yeah,” you agree, melting into his arms, feeling his heart beating in time with your own. “I am yours.”

#as usual daydreaming too much about jake kim #the panel doesnt really fit but he looks pretty good there mmhmmm #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #jake kim #jake kim x reader #kim gimyung x reader #kim gimyeong x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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coolnerdyandalone · 4 years

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on FIMQ deleting her content and COVID-19 (and a gratuitous larry fic rec)

@freddiesmyqueen first of all queen i hope you’re doing ok although i know some shit must have gone down for you to delete/private list all your videos and i hope you know that the larry community supports you always. Also your talent is TRULY unmatched in the world of video editing - no one makes edits quite like you and that’s why your loss impacts the community so profoundly.

secondly, i know at least i was hoping to turn to rewatching all of FIMQ’s videos while i’m being quarantined due to the coronavirus. and i’m willing to bet that i’m not the only one. this is a scary time and for people like me who feel profoundly alone right now, the only way for me to calm my nerves and fears is by reverting to the content and community that helped me feel not so alone when i was in middle and high school. For me, that looks like watching FIMQ videos and reading my favorite larry fanfics (which i will also link below). because of this i thought it might be helpful to repost some links that were posted by @bluemoonlarryandkaylor for a signal boost (if my teeny-tiny account can be called a signal boost).

link to a google drive with FIMQ videos: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1ONwfLOd_IYvAL5OUDqDb_LLgQsDpd9il

link to an acct with some FIMQ re-uploads: https://www.youtube.com/user/Joana3961/videos

link to FIMQ vids with spanish subtitles: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIouodFhArMkQhOHxv2t2NgxTwl6KvXAT

and now if you want to look at some good old fashioned larry fics that are my ABSOLUTE faves and could 100% be actual novels/movies, keep reading:

And Then A Bit** by @infinitelymint aka the best fanfic ever written (basically larry fakes a relationship for publicity with each other and it could be cannon if you really wanted to hope upon hopes): https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415272/chapters/2972746 (159k)

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Escapade** by @haydolce aka the Jack McQueen fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034197/chapters/9071932 (146k)

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

California Sold** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157680/chapters/11877494 (123k)

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Bring Your Body Baby (I Could Bring You Fame) by @theboyfriendstagram : https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263903/chapters/9652944 (84k)

Eighteen year old Harry Styles just graduated high school and landed a summer job as a waterboy for his favorite football team. His job description is simple: be ready to hand water and towels to players if needed. That didn’t seem to include Louis Tomlinson though, a twenty-three year old, recently transferred Paris Saint-German player, who seems to like making Harry’s job much more difficult than it has to be.

A self-indulgent AU that takes place over the summer of 2015. 18 year old Harry hates pining after people he can't have, and 23 year old footballer Louis loves flirting with people even though it never means anything.

Pull Me Under** by @zarah5 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/870766/chapters/1672104 (140k)

AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis' favourite teammate, Liam as Louis' agent, and Zayn as Liam's boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.)

You You You** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/846690/chapters/1617212 (137k)

“Infamous boybander leaves club together with unknown,” read the headline. Underneath were pictures of a boy with dark curls, green eyes and very tight pants. They both studied the article for a moment, reading it through quickly. “Is that…?” Louis frowned. That guy almost looked exactly like... "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "Louis," Niall said, looking absolutely fucked over. "You just fucked the most wanted guy on earth. You just fucked Harry Styles of One Direction."

Or, the one where Harry and Louis meet at a club and Louis takes Harry home, only for him to realize that the boy who just made him breakfast half naked is Harry Styles from One Direction.

Like an Endless Summer by @horsegirlharry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365494/chapters/25442085 (87k)

“You just wanna go fawn over Styles as soon as possible,” Zayn grumbles.

“I do not. Plus, he probably got ugly this year. Eighteen is an awkward time...I bet he’s got acne and one of those terrible fuckboy haircuts all the hipsters are getting these days, with the shaved sides? Just watch, the first year we’re gonna get any time together is gonna be the first year I don’t have a stupid crush on him.”

---

Or, Louis is a riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor who he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two summers. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’s formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

Three French Hems by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064493 (20k)

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

The Dead of July aka the Marvel Fic by @whimsicule : https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594570/chapters/7928520 (117k)

Being an Avenger means continuing to be Captain America and smiling and being honorable for the public and Harry does his best. But it doesn’t give him time to figure out who he is supposed to be once he takes off his uniform and puts the shield to the side. Just being Harry had always involved Louis, and Harry fears he doesn’t know how to exist without him.

or: Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

Gods & Monsters by @mizzwilde : https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090982/chapters/4550871 (201k)

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

Love is a Rebellious Bird aka LIARB aka the orchestra fic aka dont hum bolero by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162438/chapters/2362331 (135k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

My English Love Affair** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873962 (19k)

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose by @haydolce : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799241/chapters/13366498 (113k)

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Wild and Unruly aka the Cowboy fic by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723093/chapters/6099611 (124k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December)** by @greenfeelings : https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051122/chapters/34892210 (128k)

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

the boys of fall** aka the american football fic by @godgavemelou : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443037 (21k)

“And everyone, this is Harry Styles. He’s going to be our starting quarterback this year.”

Louis looks at him, the tall and lanky Harry Styles, and takes it all in. He’s got hair to his shoulders that curls at the ends, tattoos all down his arms, and a bright smile on his face as the team cheers him on. He’s lean and fit, and absolutely beautiful, and Louis hates him to the core.

OR an american football au where the boys play for the university of tennessee, and harry and louis quite hate each other.

** indicates that the fic is a log-in required fic, but if you want the pdf i can send it to you

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hinac0lada · 4 years

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I DON’T LIKE YOUR SHAMPOO

CHARACTER PAIRING | oikawa tooru x gn!reader

INFO | soulmate!au, fluff

WORDS | 1.9k

NOTE | by the time i’m probably posting this, is one day before my beloved’s birthday FNKLFNGK ngl i’m pretty excited and i hope ya’ll are too (besides the fact that the manga is coming to an end but let’s not talk about that-)

WARNINGS | NONE

more to see under the cut!

you live in a world where soulmate marks exist. everyone has different types of marks ranging from; timers, red strings of fate, roman numerals, half tattoos, etc. as you grow old, you watch people find their soulmates, and on some unfortunate occasions, lose them.

each person had different views on the concept of soulmates, it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time, but you stayed neutral after receiving every side of the spectrum that varied from the good side — as well as the bad side of meeting their other halves.

you knew you were bound to meet your own soulmate either way, but you wouldn't get your hopes up just like that — until you received your soulmate mark on the morning of your 15th birthday.

it was a beautiful tattoo on your wrist. written were the words that your soulmate would say to you on your first encounter. your parents told you that the time and date of your encounter with them — along with their words to you, would turn golden as soon as you’ve said your first words to each other; just like how their soulmate mark worked. and although you were aware that every mark is different, you couldn’t help but raise a brow from confusion at the sentence that was permanently placed on your wrist.

‘well to be honest, i don’t like your perfume’

it read, an intriguing way to say to your soulmate, you thought to yourself. and that night, you couldn’t help but admire the pretty letterings on your wrist; rubbing your thumb against it, grinning from ear to ear like a fool.

days went by from when you received your tattoo, you’d constantly wonder what your soulmate was like or when and how you were going to meet them. tracing your fingers along the tattoo turned into a habit whenever you’re bored or anxious about something. to add to that, the thought of their existence would sometimes consume you, and you’d be stuck in a loophole of questions and doubts.

‘what if they don’t like me? or what if they don’t want to be my soulmate? what if they think i’m ugly? or a disappointment?’

regardless of the negative thoughts and worries you had in your head everyday, you were still eager to meet them — even if it takes a thousand years, a thousand hours, or maybe even if they are a thousand miles away, you can’t wait for the day that you’d get to meet them.

or what if it only takes a few months, or a few days? maybe even a few seconds? what if they were across the world? or just across the street? possibly next door? in spite of knowing not to get your hopes up, you can’t resist the anticipation of being face to face with the person you were promised to ever since the very beginning of your existence.

and every day, you’d hold on to the wrist with your mark — the symbol of a promise to true love, hoping fate decides to take place sooner than expected.

unbeknownst to you however, your true love was just within arm’s reach all this time.

it was the most awaited day of the academic year, the time where stressed out seniors get to relax for a whole day to indulge themselves in new sights and bond with their fellow batch mates before the dreaded era of finals — field trip day.

everyone had their own plans, going to after school hang outs right after the planned trip, a handful bringing digital cameras to capture each moment , that one kid in class who has great taste in music providing the speaker, and the rest just going with the flow of today’s agenda.

while the majority of students did plan their seating arrangements on the bus, you, on the other hand, decided against it. in your opinion, it wasn’t a big deal. it was just a 2 hour drive to the destination so what could possibly go haywire? plus, it didn’t matter who was your companion on the bus, it’d open up the opportunity to get to know unfamiliar faces, being divided by classes and all, so what could possibly go wrong?

maybe, possibly everything.

who would’ve thought, out of all of your batch mates, you get to sit beside the grand king himself, oikawa tooru.

it wasn’t like his personality was completely intolerable, it’s the complete opposite, really. he was charming, greeting you with a close eyed grin before sitting down next to you. in the face of all the chaos his friends warned you the male would bring— plus the many chilling glares from his countless fan girls, his presence never shook you the wrong way at all.

you weren’t complete strangers, but you weren’t well acquainted either. you were in a different class and the only time you’d see his pretty face was when you’d pass each other in the hallways. but, what's there not to like about oikawa tooru? he was attractive, a gentleman, a charmer, a friendly being, and everything was as easy as apple pie.

“hey, just a heads up, shittykawa over here has a habit of sleeping on anyone’s shoulder. don’t be afraid to push his head aside when you’re uncomfortable.” iwaizumi hajime, his best friend and the hunk of aoba johsai, patted your shoulder reassuringly before taking his seat behind the two of you, alongside him was hanamaki takahiro and matsukawa issei - who were snickering at the flustered setter beside you.

for some reason, you thought iwaizumi was just joking or he said that to make oikawa look bad — in which he failed. and so you didn’t take his statement seriously, disregarding it completely. and now you regret ever doing so, because it turned out to come true, eventually biting you back in the ass.

things took a turn when you suddenly felt the weight of the world on your shoulder — idiomatically and literally.

it was exactly 30 minutes into the drive to your destination and you were on your phone to pass by the time, minding your own business when you suddenly felt pressure on your shoulder. you peered at your shoulder, only to be met with the sight of a sleeping oikawa, snoring lightly with his lips slightly parted.

you stayed still as a rock, not wanting to disturb his slumber - which he probably needed. although you didn’t plan to get him off your shoulder any time soon, you were clueless as to what to do if he doesn’t wake up. you glanced at his friends, who were expecting the whole thing to happen.

“do you need help with him?” hanamaki questioned, taking notice of your gaze at their trio. iwaizumi took your loss of words as agreement and got ready to shake his friend awake, until you stopped him.

“i-it’s okay.. i don’t mind really,” you reassured the three, giving a warm smile before focusing back on your phone, catching glimpses of the sleeping oikawa once in a while. you were far from annoyed. if anything else, you found it comforting for no apparent reason, his warmth that is.

once you knew he was deep in rest, you shifted to a much more comfortable position for the two of you, one where you can almost smell his scent. which was a big mistake, because you remembered your allergies to this specific shampoo which was unfortunately the one he had right now.

loreal shampoo.

oh the terror it gave you, you started to get war flashbacks to when you used it on your own hair as well, the horror of sneezing until your eyes were watery sent shivers down your spine at the cringe.

and as much as you attempted to conceal your allergies, it backfired in the end and now you were left in a mess; sneezing profusely while scrambling to get your medications. you cursed your sensitive nostrils, seeing as you’ve woken up the brunette beside you, unaware of the situation at hand, his half lidded eyes looking around in a daze.

in the process of consuming your medicine, he asked if you were okay, rubbing the tiredness away from his eyes.

“i.. don’t like your shampoo.” you managed to reply back in the midst of trying to calm down from the sudden attack of your allergies. oikawa, being clueless as to what you were trying to imply, took offense in your words. yet you couldn’t blame him, your answer was quite vague and it caught him off guard.

“well to be honest, i don’t like your perfume,” he retorted back with a pout embellishing his features, earning him an awfully painful smack on the back of his head from iwaizumi, accompanied with the eye rolls coming from hanamaki and matsukawa.

“dumbass, they have rhinitis. your shampoo triggered their allergies” iwaizumi explained to the setter, who was wincing in agony from the impact. You were on the verge of apologizing when the words that escaped his lips gave a sense of familiarity, as though you were accustomed to the sentence.

and then it both hit you. oikawa’s brown eyes dilated with realization, that look of his says it all. it was happening. how could you ever forget those words you were longing to hear, those words that you knew would bring you to your destiny someday?

it felt too surreal, you were immobilized with disbelief and shock.

but then you felt an itch on your hand. and in a synchronized manner, you and oikawa looked at your own wrists, it was really happening. he was your soulmate. your promised lover.

‘7/19/20.

2:20 PM’

the letters read in gold ink, a sight to behold. (e/c) irises clashed with one of chocolate brown, filled with bewilderment. your face heated up at the sight of his pink tinted cheeks. you’ve found your way home.

“what’s going on? they’re acting strange...” matsukawa whispers in hanamaki’s ear, baffled at the scene in front of him. iwaizumi then points a finger at their wrists, the distinct color of gold catching his attention.

after a while of literally staring into each other’s souls, a hearty laugh escapes your lips. the corners of oikawa’s lips tugged into a genuine smile, in which you reciprocated with one of your own.

you were grateful that your first encounter was one of mediocrity - in a good way, of course. it was as if you were meeting an old friend, the warmth that his gaze holds gave you a sense of comfort.

that smile of his was practically screaming ‘you’re home’. you’ve finally met your soulmate; face to face, and now your destiny rests in his hands, while his rests on your own.

the situation eventually calmed down and you two finally accepted the fact that you are soulmates. the bus was silent, light snores echoing, and everything was tranquil. you could see oikawa’s struggle from the corner of your eyes, his eyelids getting heavier for the nth time, trying not to repeat his mistake from earlier.

“oikawa-”

“tooru, call me tooru please,” he corrected, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. his eyes fluttering, attempting to stay awake.

“tooru, it’s okay, you can sleep on my lap instead,” you chuckled, hearing him mumble his gratitude, his head making its way to your lap. it was as if immediately, he was off to dream land once again, your hands gently running through his soft locks whilst trying to doze off as well.

“y’know, i think we should recommend each other products sometime.”

“good idea, maybe after this trip, tooru.”

“deal. well, good night.. my soulmate.”

“sweet dreams, my home.”

GENERAL TAGLIST : @pineapplekween @pyblos @some-oxymoron @kxgeyamasmilk @kunimwuah @kou-hakusei @rollingthundaa @ideshine @janellion @miyaosamoo @paripedia @bap-kingdom @rainyslvt @inessawrr

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ashes-and-ashes · 4 years

Text

Lightning and Marauders

Draco stares out of the window.

He’s still furious, with Harry and with Dumbledore and the entire fucking Order. He can feel it, rage coiling around his bones, the anger making him feel light-headed. He’d always had an explosive temper, the type that ended up with shattered glasses and holes in walls.

It didn’t work when his father attempted to beat it out of him, but then again, rarely anything worked. He learnt though, over the years, learnt to keep everything contained inside of him, because at least he didn’t cut anyone when he shattered.

With a sigh, Draco stares down at his arm, the ugly brand that couldn’t cover the scars on his wrist. He couldn’t even remember what the fight was about - something small, he was sure, something inconsequential and pathetic. Stress had blown it up, turned it into something so much bigger then it should have been, made him keep pushing, keep arguing until him and Harry were both screaming at each other from opposite sides of the kitchen table.

Of course, he had spat, anger making him feel like he was on fire. Of course you would say that. You’ve always had it easy, being the fucking savior.

Don’t you ever say that again, Harry replied, all hissed words and cold fury. Don’t you ever say that I had it easy. You’re the one on your Malfoy throne, all high and mighty -

You don’t know what they did to me.

What? Harry sneered. Bought you a broomstick and held your hand? Is it to your advantage to switch your side?

Fuck you.

Harry laughed. What did I expect? You’re the son of a Death Eater. Why did I ever think that we could trust you?

Draco had stormed off before he could say those damning words spinning around in the back of his head, echoing the cold words spoken by his father so long ago. You’ll never be enough. You’ve doomed us all.

He couldn’t though, couldn’t bring himself to say the words. It would destroy them, that already fragile bond he had with Harry, the small hope of something more. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to risk that.

Draco leans his head against the window, the glass cool against his cheek. The rain cast patterns over his face; he watches the shadows trace against his skin.

He doesn’t know where he is - some tower room in Grimmauld Place. The house was huge, larger then the Manor, all stone and dark wood and huge green drapes. There are tapestries all over the walls, symbols embroidered on them in heavy gold thread; he recognizes a few of them. Whom ever owned this house must have been rich - Charmed Marks were expensive and there were hundreds of them all over the walls.

He sighs, turning his attention back to the scene outside. His head pounds; he lets it drop back against the window frame.

“Done being all melodramatic?”

He can see the barest hint of a reflection in the window, all darkened shapes and blurred lines. He doesn’t bother to turn around though, just shrugs. “It’s my forté. I should go into acting.”

The person lets out a dry chuckle. “Aren’t you a spy? It’s close enough.”

Draco stiffens. “Who told you that?”

“You’re not the only Drama Queen here.”

Draco turns slightly in his seat, just so that he could see the figure standing by the door. He’s tall, hair down to his shoulders and covered with tattoos. There’s a casual sort of elegance to him, the type that Draco had spent most of his life trying to perfect, all careless arrogance and stunning grace.

Charcoal eyes met his; grey, he thinks, just like mine. Draco gets to his feet quickly, leaning back against the wall. He’s learnt that appearing casual made others lower their guard. The man’s quiet chuckle lets him know that his action had not been missed.

“God,” he says, giving him a small smirk. It’s the grin of a younger man, the ghost of something that had long died. “You remind me so much of - “

“Don’t,” Draco says, cutting him off. “Don’t say that I remind you of my father. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? As if I wanted to be some egotistical fanatic - “

The man laughs. “No. I wasn’t going to say that. I get the sense that you aren’t fond of your father though. He was an asshole. A brilliant, conniving asshole but an asshole all the same.”

Draco looks up, startled. “You know him?”

“Doesn’t everyone? Everyone who knows about Death Eaters, that is.”

Draco flinches. “I - I’m not - “

“Like them? Family bonds can be hard to sever. Just take me for an instance.”

“What do you know?” Draco fires back. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about Pure Blood families. You don’t know what it’s like to be suffocated, to be forced into a mold that doesn’t fit you - “

The man throws back his head and laughs; bitter and amused. “Oh I don’t know, do I? I probably know better then anyone else here, I Draco.”

Draco turns away, willing the tears not to come. “Oh, really?”

The man smirks. “I’m Sirius,” he says. “Sirius Black.”

“Harry’s Godfather.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been known as anything but Traitor.”

Draco folds his arms across his chest. “I’m a Malfoy,” he says. “Your name was synonymous with Hero back at home.”

“Nice to know I’m still worshipped.” Sirius leans back against the wall. He’s covered in scars, hundreds of them; up his arms and wrapped around his fingers, disappearing under his shirt. Draco thinks of his own back, the smooth, pale skin and shudders. His father was careful - and even Voldemort’s Crucio’s didn’t leave any scars. He didn’t want to think about how bad the pain was to leave so many scars across Sirius’ flesh.

“What do you want?” Draco says, keeping his voice even. “I assume you don’t just want to chat.”

Sirius shrugs. “Harry. You had a fight with him.”

“Why don’t you check in with him?”

“I already did.”

“Did he tell you about how much of a manipulative, lying bastard I was?”

Sirius shakes his head. Draco stares at his forearms, the silver moon tattoos inked onto the skin. They seemed to shimmer, even in the dark room, the edges rippling and fading into the next shape. “He told me all about you, actually. How brave you were. How you’re only 17 and yet you’re spying for a side that will try and execute you if they win this war.”

“What do I have to lose?” Draco whispers. “There’s nothing left for me in this world. I might as well try and - “

“Make it better?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius smiles. “I was actually going to say, before you interrupted me earlier that you remind me a lot of myself. Back when I was younger. You have the same...complete disregard for yourself. Self-destructive tendencies, almost. Because who cares if you burn as long as you’re warming those you love?”

“I - “

Sirius fixes him with that piercing gaze, the one that saw into his soul and stripped him bare. “Jesus, you’re young. I fought in the first War, back when I was 19. I still have nightmares. To do that to innocent kids - I don’t - you’re so - “

“Young?” Draco’s voice was a near-breath. “I’ve already killed 8 people, Sirius. I’m a little too damned to be innocent, don’t you think?”

He stared at his hands, palms up, the light dancing off his fingertips. “I’ve tortured people and been tortured myself. Spying is nothing.”

“True.” Sirius’ voice is light. “But I never knew Lucius would lay a hand on his son.”

Draco’s breath hitched. “What?”

“Don’t what me. My mother was the one hurting me. I know those marks.”

Draco stares down at Sirius’ hands, the tiny scars that flecked his skin. “What are those?”

Sirius’ grin was savage, brutal and cutting and painful. “Crucio.”

“Crucio doesn’t leave marks.”

“When you use it enough it does.”

“I’ve never met someone who knows what it feels like. Besides Harry and myself.”

Sirius blanches at the sound of Harry’s name. “He’s been...”

“Yeah.”

“God.” Sirius drops his head in his hands. “12 years. 12 fucking years I’ll never get back. God, I missed so much.”

“He loves you,” Draco says quietly. “He adores you.”

Sirius looks up. “You love him.”

It wasn’t a question. Draco feels the blood drain from his face, his heart falling to the floor. He takes a deep breathes, holds it, waits until he knew his voice wouldn’t shake. “He’s one of my closest friends.”

Sirius studies him for a minute, then lets out a low whistle. “God, you are practically a carbon copy of me.”

“What do you mean?” Draco demands.

Sirius just studies him, his head tilted, those piercing eyes shredding him slowly apart. Draco just grit his teeth, met his gaze.

Finally, Sirius speaks. “I was in love with a boy,” he says, and Draco flinches. “For ages, actually. Since I was 12. He was my best friend.”

“How did you know?” Draco breathes. “That it was love?”

Sirius smiles. “You just know.”

“I don’t though.” Draco looks down, at his feet. “I always hear things, about how love makes you soft, makes you happy, lifts you up and turns you lighter. And I always think what bullshit. Because that’s not what I feel. Not at all.”

“It’s fire,” Sirius says quietly.

“God, it’s more then that. It’s consuming. It scares me, because I’m in a war, and if something happened to him...There’s nothing I wouldn’t do - I’ve switched sides for God’s sake. I’ve damned my soul because of him, I love him that much.”

Sirius just shrugs, head propped up against his han, and Draco thinks again that he looks very, very young. “The only monster made are ones that are in love.”

“And he doesn’t - I don’t even know if he loves me.”

Sirius laughs. “Oh Merlin. Harry most definitely does, Draco.”

“No - “

Sirius cuts him off. “Yes. He does.”

Draco looks down, at his feet. He can feel the weight of Sirius’ gaze against his back, burning into his soul. “Tell me about him,” he says.

Sirius closes his eyes. “I don’t know. He was...beautful. All full of light - the steady kind. A candle, compared to the raging flames inside of me - inside of both of us,” he adds. “He never thought he was good enough, but he was better then I ever could be.”

Draco nods. He thinks about Harry - his smiles, his eyes, the way his hair felt when Draco let his hands brush through. The harsh set of his mouth when he was concentrating, the way he laughs, all quicksilver and molten metal, the way Draco’s heart stopped every time they touched. He thinks about how he dropped everything - his family, his title, his home, how he was willing to die just to give Harry a chance and he wonders if he’ll ever have anything like this again.

“Do you regret it?” he asks. “Telling...telling whoever it was?”

Sirius’ holds Draco’s gaze.

“No,” he says, and Draco believes him.

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

Text

Right now could last forever - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Inspired by “A daydream a way” by All Time Low and the following request: Okay so I wrote this prompt and i’d love to see it with best friend!Billy. “Are you jealous or something?” “Have i not made that obvious? Of course i’m jealous!”

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

For the longest time, I was convinced of two things.

One, I was convinced that in every friendship there comes a moment when the line between friendship and more becomes extremely visible. You can see it quite clearly. And in that moment you get to decide whether to cross it or not. Once the moment has passed, that’s it. That one little choice defines that relationship from that point on.

And two, I would never get myself tangled up in a relationship where that line was not clearly defined.

For the longest time in my life, I was a fucking dumbass.

Billy Hargrove came into my life in the fall of 1984. He swept over me like a thunderstorm in summer. Loud and unforgiving and filled with rage. Someone, and I can’t remember who that was, once said that misery loves company. I never believed in those words until I met Billy.

There was something about him that was so intoxicating. I wanted to know him, genuinely know him. He had a perpetual scowl on his face but that wasn’t what I cared about, I didn’t entirely buy that. His eyes, they were so sad, so deeply sad. I knew that sadness because it was the same feeling that looked back at me every time I looked into a mirror.

For a while, we were orbiting around each other like two planets always close but never destined to meet. And then, somehow, somewhen, the universe shifted and we collided and life as I knew it was never the same again.

He asked me to tutor him in English, said he didn’t really understand the shit he had to read, said those big words didn’t make sense to him. I said yes because if someone like Billy asks you for a favour, you don’t say no. Billy who was always so effortlessly cool and unbothered.

I looked at him then and I knew then, that we would never have that moment where lines had to be defined. Because a guy like Billy didn’t even know lines existed when it came to girls like me. I did though. I knew there wasn’t gonna be a moment because I took it away from us. I drew the line myself. Nothing was ever gonna come of this that was ay more than a friendship. I thought I knew it then and so I took it upon myself to define things that never needed to be defined. And I drew the line and I thought that was it.

Back then I was so sure that we could never be anything but friends. I was a rainy day in spring. I was muted colours and damp grass and hayfever. Billy was the middle of summer. He was warm august evenings, BBQs with friends, 4th of July fireworks.

I tutored him about 2 or 3 times and it felt like it was always supposed to be this way, Billy and me. Like two puzzle pieces fitting so well. We bonded over our love for the same bands and our hatred for the same stupid things. But what really brought us together was the realization, that the same sadness lived in both our hearts.

From then on, Billy was a permanent fixture in my life. Like once he was there he wasn’t gonna leave again, ever. Like my life was a vinyl record and he was a scratch and no matter how much you polished or scrubbed it wasn’t gonna go away. No, that metaphor doesn’t hold up because Billy wasn’t a bad thing. He was maybe the one good thing in my life. He was permanent, like a tattoo. Something, someone, I chose to have around. Someone to make me remember what it felt like, being alive.

Tuesdays were my favourite days because we had his whole house to ourselves. My parents didn’t give a shit where I was and his dad and Susan had to work all day. Max was hardly around either way and so it was just us.

We sat on the ugly gray linoleum floor of his kitchen passing a joint back and forth, goofy smiles on our faces. That’s how we spent most Tuesdays, getting high and just — being. Just being around each other. What else was there to do for a teenager in Hawkins Indiana in 1984 though? What do you do in a town where kids and teens go missing on a regular basis and yet everyone goes about their day as if it was nothing special? I mean, yeah they built us a huge ass mall but what good did that do? All they did was add capitalism to this mess.

So we sat there, giggling and dreaming dreams too big for us and using words we didn’t really understand. Or maybe we did but we surely weren’t aware of the gravity they held then. Words like forever.

“ What’s your favourite colour? “ Billy asked me one Tuesday afternoon. He didn’t give me time to finish though. “ And don’t say shit like seafoam green or something. I don’t got a fucking clue what seafoam green is. Just — just gimme a straight answer. “

I didn’t tell him that my favourite colour was the exact shade of blue of his eyes. Or maybe the red of his lifeguard shorts that made him almost glow in the summer sun. I thought it then but I didn’t say it. You don’t say stuff like that and expect the line not to be crossed.

The line. That fucking line I draw myself. I had to remind myself of it every once in a while when my thoughts went drifting and the line felt like it was going to smudge a little. I had to draw it again. In the sand. In the clouds. Anywhere. Everywhere. I couldn’t let myself forget about it. Because forgetting would only end in heartbreak.

“ I like red. “

“ Yeah? I like red too. “ And that made perfect sense to me then because he was red. Anger and wrath and chaos. Warmth. Comfort. Love.

“ What are you grinning about, huh? Looking like a fool over there. “ I wondered, nudging his thigh with my foot. He just kept grinning, tiny wrinkles forming around his smile, his eyes. He always smiled with his eyes, at least when the smiles were genuine. I adored that.

“ Nothing.”

“ Wish you could see your face right now. It’s not nothing, clearly”

“ I don’t know, “ Billy replied and shrugged “ I’m just — I like our Tuesdays. I like not having to get back to anything. Right now, right now could last forever and I wouldn’t mind. Wouldn’t give a single fuck.”

That made my heart beat so fast, I could feel it in my chest, drumming in my ears, tingling in my fingers. But that’s what friends do, right? Spend all their time together. Share a place that feels safe. Even if that place isn’t a specific place at all. Maybe that place could be a person. A heart.

It was clear to me then, that Billy Hargrove was my soulmate. Maybe not in a romantic way but in a way that meant much more. My heart was his, my soul was his, my mind was his. And in return, I had all of him. No longer were we orbiting around each other, we were the same then. One lone planet floating around in the universe. Terribly alone but never lonesome.

The thing about the line is that something I wished I hadn’t drawn it. Sometimes I wanted to smudge it like lead on paper. I knew I couldn’t do that, it would ruin what we had. I could’ve just as well have ripped my own heart out, the pain would’ve matched.

So when things got all quiet and I felt like life wasn’t gonna judge me too harshly, and when I felt really really down or really really brave, I let myself get lost in daydreams. Ones where I stepped over the line, into something else. Something more. I let myself relish in those daydreams, soak them up like a goddamn sponge. They overwhelmed me sometimes, leaving me with nothing to say, because I just didn’t know where to start and where to stop. But those daydreams felt safe. I could watch from this place of security and if I kept my mouth shut and keep my feelings in those daydreams, it meant I never had to lose what we had.

Weekends meant going out. They meant getting away from everything but each other. Never from each other. Sometimes we would go to Carmel, sometimes Lafayette, sometimes Terre Haute. Most of the time though, we ended up in some dive bar at the side of the road in some tiny village. No one knew us there and maybe that was the charm of it all. We could be anyone. We could be anything. Even to each other. If only I would’ve let myself feel those things.

Billy drove the Camaro to wherever it was we were going and the we’d decide on who would drive us back. Usually, we took turns. One weekend I would stay sober, the next he would. I didn’t realize then, but Billy letting me drive his car, his baby, that meant a whole lot. To the both of us. It’s just that neither of us was terribly aware of it then.

It was the summer of 1985, a warm June night. The fireflies were back, the cold of the winter and spring finally gone, making way for summer heat and longer nights. We drove aimlessly around, trying to find a place to waste away our youth, get drunk of things they shouldn’t have sold us, to feel alive. It was an escape for us. From our lives, our fears, everything that made life feel so wrong. Those nights driving along the roads, music blasting from the car radio, those were the little moments that my life felt right.

Like nothing mattered but us and the vastness of the world waiting before us. A world that didn’t know us yet. One the let us be whoever we decided to be. Sometimes I wondered if in that world I could be a girl that Billy liked. But then I remembered the line. And I shut those thoughts out.

O'Charley's was an Irish pub a few towns over from Hawkins. It was, I assume, founded by someone that had never been to Ireland in their life nor did they know anyone Irish. It was very little authentic Irish pub and quite a lot party city with all the paper shamrocks and tiny flags everywhere. It was charming though, in all it’s mess there was something about it that made us come back time and time again.

That June night, I was wearing a red dress I had snagged from my mom’s closet. For all her faults, she really was a looker in the 70s and her clothes had no business hanging untouched and unloved in her closet because she had decided the 80s were her time to shine in boring velour pants and blouses that made her look 10 years older.

So I wore that red wrap-around dress that flowed around my knees with every step I took and I thought that if I can veil myself in red, in Billy’s colour, maybe I can trap a little of him, of his energy, of his confidence, of his warmth, in me.

All the people here knew about us, was our faces and the fake names on our fake IDs. We could be anyone we wanted to be in here. And for a pair of 17-year-olds that is the biggest power one can only possess. To be whoever you want to be in a world that tries so hard to put you down over and over again and squish you in a mould of picket fences and loveless marriages. Time stood still for the nights I was with Billy in a bar where no one knew the real us. Or maybe they did. Maybe we were the real us when we were there.

I can not tell you what Billy wore that night, this boy had 4 different outfits that he kept rotating. In the end, it didn’t really matter though, he looked hot in all of them. I know that it was hot though and his shirt was unbuttoned more than usual, letting me see more of his chest. Sometimes I wondered if he knew what it was doing to me despite the fact that he was my best friend. My person.

We sat at the bar, I ordered a beer, Billy ordered a cherry coke. That was tonight's driver decided. I gave him a grateful smile and he just smiled back with his casual coolness. So we sat there, Whitesnake playing from the stereo, smiles on our faces. And life was right how it should be all the time. For a short while, the demons we both carried on our shoulders were mute. We could breathe.

“ Look at that douchebag. “ Billy laughed and nodded his head towards the corner of the room. A guy that looked about our parents' age, hair slicked back, shirt stuffed into his jeans, tie hanging loosely from his neck, was leaning against the wall. His lips were almost glued to the ear of a beautiful woman. She must’ve been around the same age he was though beauty wasn’t lost on her in those years. It was hard to watch though, as her eyes were so desperately vacant. There was nothing there. No joy, no excitement. He was wearing a ring, she was wearing one too. We could only assume that those two had seen a few years together. Maybe this was their night out. Kids dropped off at the sitter those two felt like hitting the town, reliving their youth.

Only when you’re stuck in a gray, loveless, sad mess for too long, it takes over your entire being. It turns you into a gray mess yourself. I knew that because I could see it every day in my own parents. Billy knew because his mother had to break his heart in order to escape her own heartbreak and the mess.

“ He’s trying too hard, the idiot. “ Billy chuckled. This was something we did a lot, sit and watch people and pretend our lives would never end like theirs. And god, did we hope and pray we wouldn’t end up like this.

“ She’s so desperate to just get back home,” I pointed out, taking another sip from my beer.

“ Their names, “ Billy started “ are Jeff and Hillary. They’ve been married for 20 years now. Jeff is an accountant at Hillary’s dad’s firm. Good ol’ Hilly dreamed of becoming a model for Sports Illustrated. Then she got knocked up and settled for a life in the suburbs with Jeff who’s as exciting as a piece of untoasted toast.”

“ They have three kids, and she loves them, “ I continued, “ but god sometimes she really resents them for being the reasons she had to give up on all her dreams. Give up on the person she used to be. “

“ Two more drinks, then they’ll go home and have boring, unsatisfying sex. He’ll hump away and break a sweat and two minutes later he’ll fall asleep and she’s gonna stare up at the ceiling and consider finishing the job herself, cause Jeff clearly doesn’t care. And she’ll just stare and wish that this wasn’t her life. Because she hates it.”

Where things had started out fun, they turned quite sad quite quickly.

“ Promise me we will never end up like this, “ Billy said, now facing me. My favourite shade of blue, so vibrant, so soft. I nodded, because I was lost for all words. That’s the effect Billy had on me and everyone else.

The line! You drew it! Remember it!

I ordered a tequila then. “ We’d never stand a chance,” I thought “ at love, not Billy and I.”

So I tried to forget about my thoughts, with a little salt and a little lime and a shot that burned all the way down. Tried to forget about those intrusive little words and images that I knew could never be.

I don’t know how much later it was but at some point, Billy’s warm big handheld onto my arm to steady my swaying frame. I could tell you what it felt like when he looked at me then, if I had the vocabulary to properly put it into words. I knew then, that if no one else, Billy was there to take care of me. That with crossing the line I would give up on this. This love that was certainly there even if it was in a completely different way. Maybe this was all the love I would ever need in my life.

“ Let me take you home. “

But did he not know? Home was wherever he was. Home was him.

We arrived back at my house which was deserted, as always. Weekends were when my own parents tried to rekindle a flame that had never been there in the first place. I was invisible. Maybe that’s what drew me to Billy, he saw me. All of me. And he understood in ways I had never been understood before.

“ Are you okay getting up by yourself ? “ he asked, his eyes looking towards the window of my room. Was I okay? Sure I could’ve managed by did I want to? Did I want to be all by myself in a house that felt so cold even in those warm summer nights? No, I really didn’t.

“ I thought you’d stay over again ?”

“ You’re not sick of me yet ? “ the way he said it sounded so nonchalant, like he was completely joking. He wasn’t I knew him better than that. When everyone always makes you feel like a burden, it’s hard to accept that some people actually want your around. It’s hard to accept love when life’s always made you believe you didn’t deserve it.

“ I’ll never get sick of you, Billy” and I had never been more serious about anything else in my life.

Okay, maybe the line was getting a little smudged.

“ I’ll lend you one of my sleepshirts.”

“ Lucky me.”

And he held my hand as we got up like it was nothing. And maybe it wasn’t to him at that point, but it was everything to me. Maybe to him it was just holding a friend’s hand who has drank a little too much. But that’s all it had to be to send my heart beating faster.

There had been countless times before that Billy had spent the night but the more I let myself get lost in those comforting daydreams, the more my stomach started fluttering when he was near. We wouldn’t cuddle, not really, not when we got to sleep. We’d just lay next to each other, two pillows one blanket. We’d just exist around each other and try to not let the weight settle back in just yet. He was so close I could feel the warmth

his body was exuding, could hear him breathing. He was so close and yet the most we’d touch was my legs accidentally brushing his or the other way around.

“ I never wanna live in a house like this ever again, “ I told him then, sheltered by the dark of the night. “ It’s so empty and sad and big and I just — I hate it here.”

He was real quiet for a moment but I knew he would answer soon enough. When he was with me, Billy had a habit of really considering his words. Maybe because I knew I listened to what he had to say, I cared.

“ Yeah me neither. No offence to your parent’s decorating skills or anything. But god, this house sucks. It’s so — “

“ Sad. It’s a sad big house. “

“ Yeah. “

“ What kind of house would you want? “ I asked and I swear in that moment I felt his hand brush mine. Only for a second. But it was there. It was there.

“ One by the beach. Where I can just open the door and walk onto the sand and down to the shore. I’d like a fire pit on my property, those are cool. “

“ They really are. I can see us sitting by the fire pit, eating smores, watching the waves. That sounds nice. “

Shit, did I say that? I did. And I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Right there and then. Lines, (Y/N) !!! Remember the god damn lines you drew yours—

“ I’d like that. “

That moment, the moment he said those words, I wondered for the first time if maybe Billy didn’t see the line between friendship and relationship because to him there was none. Not because he didn’t see me as suitable but because he just didn’t think in those convoluted and ridiculous ways I did. There were no lines because Billy didn’t need them to define anything, he chose to define things himself.

“ I want a house that’s a home. Something that’s more than 4 walls and a roof. “ he said and smiles at me. Billy Hargrove smiles were rare but when he would grant them to you, they were magnificent.

I fell asleep with lines smudged and everything I knew shaken up. I also fell asleep with my hand in his.

The next morning, I woke up cuddled into his chest. I closed my eyes again to hold onto the moment just a little longer.

Things didn't drastically change after that, my world didn’t suddenly shift. Billy and I were still best friends and if I am being completely honest, they seemed rather stagnant after that night. Like either of us was afraid of making a wrong move.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I was a fucking dumbass back then because instead of trying to have a grown-up conversation with him about it, I decided to look for romance elsewhere.

Kyle Davis was a nice guy. He was part of the school newspaper, drove a red BMW and worked part-time at Sam Goody inside Starcourt mall. Kyle Davis was also the son of one of Hawkins most respectable lawyers and was sure to follow in his father’s footsteps one of these days.

And Kyle Davis, for some reason I don’t understand to this day, was interested in me. Followed me around like a lovesick puppy. I had no real interest in him but as I said, he was nice and I wanted to see what it felt like, having someone who wants you too and who isn’t afraid to tell you that.

So when he asked me to the summer formal, I said yes. Something that Billy did not like. Not one bit.

“ Kyle Davis ? “ he all but yelled as he slumped down on the bleachers next to me. The sun was shining down on us with warm, golden rays. I was trying to focus on some stupid math problem, papers and books spread on the bench next to me.

“ What about him ? “

“ You’re going to the dance with him ? “

“ Yup. Is that a problem ? “

“ I mean — “ he said then huffed “ I mean yeah. It’s Kyle Davis. Kyle. “

“ He’s nice. “

“ Sure he is. A nice guy with a stable future. Someone’s already warming his chair at dad’s cosy office where he gets everything handed to him. Let’s see how this is gonna play out, huh ? “

“ Billy don’t.”

“ Nah, let me have this one. So Kyle takes you to the dance, you smooch a little, maybe he gets to cop a feel. Obviously he wants to keep you around because you’re pretty great. So you date and at some point you gotta talk about the future because graduation isn’t all that far off. And Kyle is the kind of guy that expects you to stay with him, follow him wherever he goes. Let’s pretend you would. Soon enough he’d get you knocked up with little Kyle Junior. He’d be out at work all day letting you turn bitter and resentful and hate the life you have, all alone in a big empty house with a kid you can’t love properly because you don’t love their dad or the life he made you live. And soon enough you’d end up in a shitty pub trying to chase something that wasn’t there in the first place. I don’t wanna watch you end up like Hillary at the pub. “

“ God, Billy. Don’t be so dramatic, I’m just going to the dance with him. What’s wrong with you, are you jealous or something ? “

I was expecting him to deny it, to blow me off with some stupid yet charming one-liner. He didn’t though, he stayed quiet. And that made my eyes shoot up to look at him.

There was a sincerity in his eyes that I wasn’t used to. An indescribable confidence and yet he looked more nervous that I had ever seen him before.

“ Have I not made that obvious? Of course I’m jealous! ”

“ I — what ? “

Everything I ever thought I knew, was pure and utter bullshit.

“ Jesus, (Y/N). I have been in love with you since the first time we hung out. I asked you to tutor me because I wanted to be around you, I was really fucking good at English class if I’m being honest here. I didn’t need your help but I needed to know you. I wanted to know you. You just don’t fucking realize how — incredible you are. In everything you do. Your grilled cheese sandwiches are so good, you manage to remember the lines to every song instantly, you don’t know how to pronounce melancholy and I think that’s so adorable. I feel incredibly lost and angry and disillusioned with life. I hate so much about myself but you, you understand it and you feel it with me and — you're everything I love about the things I hate in me. So please, if there’s even a teeny tiny chance for me, don’t go out with him.”

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know what to say at all. And then a second passed and I knew this was the moment.

This was that moment where I got to decide how my life was gonna go. Where I got to chose the person I wanted to walk alongside. And it was Billy. It always had been.

I’m not sure who kissed who first then but one moment he was pouring his heart out to me and the next our lips were touching. That’s when my summer truly began. His red-hot took over my dull gray and turned it into something bright and wonderful and exciting.

“ Do you actually wanna go to the dance ? “ he asked as we pulled away, “ cause if you do I’ll take you. I just — don’t own a suit., so … “

“ How about we ditch that stupid dance and take and just get away from it all. I just wanna be with you, Billy. You are my home. “

It was the summer of 1985 when I learned what love really was. It doesn’t come with rules or regulations. There’s no rhyme or reason to it sometimes. That’s a scary fact to realize and even scarier to accept. You can’t trick it, manipulate it. It’s no game to be won or lost. It’s — I believe it’s bigger than any human can fully comprehend.

So all that we can do, it let it move us, allow ourselves to feel it and accept the love when it comes our way. No lines needed.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove fanfics #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

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mcrrisons · 3 years

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wooo hi friends!! s here FINALLY dropping this intro, you’ll now know that i’m late to everything O:) i have insane muse for this type of character so i’m sooo excited to be here! any questions lmk but now ........... *rubs hands together like a fly* let’s get to plotting

@mapleviewstarters

『 travis fimmel. fourty-six. cismale. he/him. 』 oh heavens, is that WELLS MORRISON from CHESTNUT DRIVE i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -BELLIGERENT & -CONTRITE. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool at COLLECTING UNEMPLOYMENT and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +CAPTIVATING & +OPEN-MINDED. i hope i see them around again!

TW: ALCOHOLISM, DEATH, ABUSE

GETTING TO KNOW WELLS

full name: wells irving morrison

age / birthdate / sign: 45 / november 18, 1974 / scorpio

gender / pronouns: cismale / he/him

orientation: hetero

height: 6′2″

hair color: dirty blond, some gray growing in

tattoos: a lot of drunken tats over the years, either cheap ones or ones that his buddies did for him for free. most of the actual WANTED ones covered up some scars he chose to ignore

drinks / smokes / drugs: big yes to all, no one left behind - but alcohol and cigarettes daily as those are more acceptable and easier to get

occupation: although collecting unemployment from the government, he often has plenty of odd jobs to make money under the books.

residence: mapleview, born and raised. still lives in the same plot of houses his great great bought / built years ago.

alignment: chaotic evil (but he tries his best............ ok)

parents: hank (deceased) & caroline morrison

siblings: 2 brothers (jeremiah & tucker) and 1 sister (addison) that he KNOWS of

children: lane morrison (intro here), and probably a few others but that’s for future plots!!

WHAT’S HIS STORY ?

wells’ blood runs thick through this town to a long line of morrisons, and they sure as hell make SURE everyone knows it. rumors have flown around about the morrison family for generations, eyes roll when they enter a space (at least in wells’ experience) & they own a reputation of chaos. scaring away newcomers just by being themselves. and of course, like it was in his dna, wells’ actions would align with those that preceded him.

he grew up on a plot of land bought many moons ago by his great great ... grandfather / uncle / (the story changes every time he hears it) w/ a few trailer-like one story homes with broken screen doors & random “antiques” in the yard aka things that people in fair lane were throwing out that everyone THOUGHT would be needed one day. (still lives here btw!!!)

growing up around family was FINE but it reminded him of his destination - what he was going to end up like anyway, DESPITE being kinda smart in school & having larger dreams. the family was scrappy, deceitful; wells learned at an early age how to manipulate people to get what he wanted. he was taught how to STEAL, lie, charm, and how to get by with what they had.

wells spent most of his childhood at his uncle’s home, just a few minute walk away on the plot bc his own home wasn’t ideal. he looked up to the guy A LOT, but hasn’t spoken since he left mapleview for bigger and better things when wells was just 15.

his father, a returned drafted vietnam vet, took out the anger of what he witnessed / how he was treated / how life was UNFAIR out on his family, and often times physically. he wasn’t involved in wells’ life all too much, only when he needed something or wanted to let off some steam.

his mother was a caring & loving woman, also mapleview grown (the two had been high school sweethearts), but loyal to a FAULT, always choosing her husband to back.

screams, crashes, fights, fires - you name it. needless to say, that plot of morrison homes never had it quiet, easy. cops knew everyone by first and last name and could drive the route from the station to the morrison’s home with their eyes closed.

wells’ father DIED when he was 19 (although wells hadn’t considered him alive for a while) & no one knew HOW so there was never any closure for him, his mother, his fam... all his death provided was another source for the rumor mill surrounding the morrisons. was it a bad bar fight ? did he have a bad fall ? wrong pills ? some say his mother was a killer but he knew better than that.

wells’ mother is still live & somewhat well, living with his brother in a house about 20 minutes away. at her old age, it’s hard for her to do things on her own and it was decided that wells - the youngest of his generation - wouldn’t be able to care after her, let alone care for himself. she’s been there for about 10 years now and still complains every minute.

ok back to our boy. somehow wells managed to destroy every good thing that ever came his way. self-destructive due to self-hatred and REGRET which never got better as he got older and continued to well, destroy things. a slippery slope, for sure.

alongside his uncle, always dreaming of getting out of this small town, wells was good ENOUGH at school and that was his way. but of course it didn’t happen: 1. he fell into fulfilling prophecy of his predecessors, 2. he had not a PENNY to his name to leave (i.e. gambling addiction), 3. he had a child in his early twenties, 4. he tried to fight the admissions counselor at the nearby community college

having some sort of love in his life. didn’t happen: 1. he pushed/pushes everyone that dare get too close (mostly selfishly), 2. couldn’t change his addictive personality (i.e. alcoholism), 3. began to resemble his father, 4. has 0 emotional intelligence and cannot touch feelings/emotions

to get a job and be a normal person in society. didn’t happen bc: 1. has a narcissist complex, 2. would steal from the cash register, 3. would hit on customers, 4. doesn’t understand paying “taxes”

more to add here

BASICALLY, he’s lived a life. he acts as though his life is already over, there’s nothing to lose, nothing to gain and this is just how it will be for the rest of his time on earth. he’s despondent and lives far too much in the PAST, blaming himself for everything that came his way (but ok he’s not too far off tbh).

although MANY a regret linger in his mind before sleep, his largest regret is losing his family - the love of his life who LEFT the two high and dry just after about a year together and his son who moved out at just 16. the mother of his child was the only person he remembers that saw him for more than rumors, his facade and became a good influence to him - but OF COURSE he fucked that one up and she left. he blames himself big time, but would never show that. only hatred her way aloud.

his son, lane, left while still a boy just like himself, and it HURT to think that the apple hardly fell from the tree above, not able to be a good father. never TAUGHT how to be one. manipulative to a fault, wells would always say the younger was never appreciative, never UNDERSTOOD... and he’d convince himself that his son hated him as much as he hates himself. he’ll also say he’s the only reason he’s still alive. LOVE / HATE seems to blur so often for the old man here. always did.

the only constant throughout his life has been alcohol. the morrison’s start off early of course, and wells was drinking/etc on his own by the time he was 12. UNLESS you count the bourbon his father would feed him to sleep as a baby. what started off as social and partying as he grew older, became something much more ugly. his body didn’t just crave it, it NEEDED it to function by the time he was in his early twenties. it was easier to hide it then, all young and into a good time but it wouldn’t just last for weekends. he’d need a drink to get by mentally, and physically and became fully dependent. a depressant to match his mental illness.

WHO IS HE ?

he has a DEEP southern accent with a hard RASP that sounds as though he smokes a pack a day (because he does).

despite graduating high school (i KNOW, believe it), he doesn’t have a vocabulary too wide and will use larger words incorrectly all the time.

can have a bit of an old grumpy man aesthetic, easily belligerent, even though he’s only in his 40s and can be charming as hell too (that smile!!!! ok!!! knows how to manipulate.)

he doesn’t trust the government at ALL and is a bit of a conspiracy theorist, despite collecting money from the government each week for unemployment. he refuses to pay taxes so only does jobs under the books. will go on a tangent about how the government is creating diseases, hiding aliens; eat the rich, etc... he also doesn’t trust cops at all, despite being picked up and taken home by them at least once a week.

grew up on rock and roll! had a band in the 80s where he could’ve SWORN they’d be rich and famous. long hair, tight pants, acting out - wannabe motley crue.

drives (ILLEGALLY) an old ford from the 70′s that somehow still works, after losing his license years ago from too many DWIs.

i assume all of the town knows him as the town DRUNK. maybe it used to be funny back in the day, but now it’s just really SAD. he’s a nuisance.

WHO DOES HE KNOW ?

y/c HIRED him for some odd jobs, must be under the table.

HIGH SCHOOL BUDDIES who also stayed around mapleview. they can be friendly, enemies now, distanced, a lot to do here.

a BROTHER / step (which i might submit to the main :))

a ONE-NIGHT stand

a GOOD INFLUENCE who tries their best to get him working towards something better. fair warning, this would 9.99/10 times not work.

where wells is the BAD INFLUENCE to y/c, convincing them to drink a ton, giving horrible advice when they’re in their most vulnerable state.

a STORE OWNER that has banned wells from entering their establishment due to a prior mishap.

a DEALER of all things wells shouldn’t, but does.

THE HILLS by the weeknd - a plot where these two are hooking up or together but only in secret. whether that’s because they’re in different socioeconomic classes, have a bad history, the other is cheating... they have to hide.

WHITE KNUCKLES - they’ve previously had a bar fight, are known enemies. could’ve been something said about his family, his past.

#°。°。°。𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜. °。°。°。#tw alcoholism #tw abuse #tw death #ugh yes his icon rn is a dumpster but i'll change it as soon as i open up photoshop and make a new pretty dash icon #but for now #it just Makes Sense :)

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years

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Is It Really THAT Bad?

The DC films have been a mixed bag, to put it lightly. As of 2020, for every fun and enjoyable superhero film like Wonder Woman, Shazam, Aquaman, and Birds of Prey, there has been a film that was reviled or polarizing. Dawn of Justice and Justice League are both common punching bags, but there is one movie that stands out as the single most despised film in the DC cinematic universe so far:

Suicide Squad.

A lot of this comes from just how unashamedly blatant the film is at being a rushed cash in on the type of quirky superhero movie that Guardians of the Galaxy helped popularize: a bunch of wild and wacky antiheroes team up, fight a big problem, make one liners, and become a family, all while an awesome soundtrack blares in the background. It seems like the easiest thing in the world to rip off, but there’s a lot of heart and charm in Guardians that it’s not easy to replicate. And if you ask most critics… this movie did not.

Opinions on the film tend to range from lukewarm to outright hating, with IHE and the [REDACTED] Critic all throwing in their two cents. Perhaps the most damning review of all came from Mick LaSalle, who wrote:

“If you know someone you really can’t stand — not someone you dislike, not someone who rubs you the wrong way, but someone you really loathe and detest — send that person a ticket for “Suicide Squad.” It’s the kind of torment you can wish on your worst enemy without feeling too guilty: not something to inflict permanent damage, just two hours of soul-sickening confusion and sensory torment.”

There’s not much love for this, is what should be abundantly clear. And it’s really a shame, because there is stuff this film has going for it, but it wasn’t really enough to stop DC from basically hitting the soft reboot button and snagging the actual James Gunn to make a sequel while also doing their best to downplay that the events of this film actually happened. But now with a few years of hindsight, I have to go back and wonder like the heathen I am…

Is Suicide Squad REALLY that bad?

THE GOOD

Yes, amazingly, there is some good stuff here, mostly to do with the casting. At least half the cast is just pitch perfect for their roles. Famous rapper and YouTube Rewind star Will Smith as Deadshot is, of course, one of the standout examples; he brings a lot of charm and charisma to his role of an assassin who really loves his daughter, but then again, this is Will Smith. It’s hard not to love the guy in anything he does. Viola Davis as Amanda Waller is another inspired bit of casting, and she truly owns the role, and Jai Courtney is perhaps the most consistently enjoyable member of the Squad, Captain Boomerang, the exact sort of stupid D-list villain who SHOULD be getting screentime in a movie like this.

Of course, the very best bit of casting is Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn, in Harley’s big screen debut. Robbie has such an enthusiasm for the role that shines through even with the clunky script, and while she would definitely improve her craft for her outing in Birds of Prey, her performance here still has that spark of zany fun that Harley needs, cementing Robbie as the perfect star for the role. Frankly, that’s the feeling that can be gathered from a lot of these really good performances; they’re good, but they lack proper refinement, and so are stuck spouting the stupidest, corniest, clunkiest lines imaginable. But yes, really the worst thing you can say about Harley in this film is that her outfit is absolutely atrocious and demeaning.

While we’re on the subject of Harley Quinn, tough… while the whole situation with the Joker is something I’ll get to shortly, I think their relationship in this film is actually done well in many aspects. I’ve always preferred the original idea of “Mad Love” over the glorified domestic abuse that Joker x Harley has often devolved into, and while there is a bit of the latter, the fact that Joker literally goes out of his way to save Harley at every opportunity to the point he’s a definition satellite love interest is really good. Of course, this was thrown out for Birds of Prey, but I do think it worked in the context of this film.

Of course, we all know that the greatest aspect of this film is REALLY Slipknot, the single most powerful member of the Squad. I’ve already written an entire Psycho Analysis on why he’s the greatest villain in the history of cinema, so just read that for the rundown on how our man Slipknot climbs his way into your heart and mind.

THE BAD

So there is just a lot to go over here.

First, there’s the soundtrack’s implementation. As a blatant Guardians ripoff, everything the characters do needs to be punctuated by some sort of awesome music to tie the scene together. The difference is that where in the Guardian movies the soundtrack is used as a storytelling tool to help subtly emphasize points that the narrative doesn’t want to spell out for you, Suicide Squad just has these songs because they’re cool and because Guardians did it. Why is “Black Skinhead” playing while Deadshot tests his weapon skills? Why is “House of the Rising Sun” playing during Waller talking about the Squad? What exactly do these songs add besides background music? The opening montage of everyone in the Squad is particularly bad because the songs are just switching up really quickly as the montage goes along, which echoes a complaint I had about Little Nicky, of all films: “One of the more noticeable problems is the usage of music; in the course of one single scene, they play four different songs, and all of this is in a span of about one or two minutes. Just pick a song and stick to it for fuck’s sake!” About the only song that is really properly utilized is “Heathens,” which plays over the (admittedly cool) credit sequence.

Now let’s get into the characters, because for every awesome character in this film, there’s two that just absolutely suck or are so underutilized it’s laughable. Probably the worst case of this is Killer Croc, who despite being a stunning practical effect and probably the reason this film scored an Oscar, does pretty much nothing for the entire film, save for a short bit in the ending where he swims. You’d be entirely forgiven for forgetting he’s in the film, which is not something you should be saying about a Batman villain of this caliber.

Katana and Diablo are both characters who should be awesome, but the story givers them nothing to do and rushes their character arcs, respectively. Katana is yet another character you’d probably forget is there, even though she has a lot of fascinating elements to her character (some of which are detailed in her infamous introduction, which don’t worry, I’m working towards it), but nothing is really done with her. Diablo is actually one of the best and most fleshed-out characters in the film, but the narrative just completely fails to justify him or his ultimate heroic sacrifice; by the end, he claims the Squad is like family, but they’ve never really done anything to earn this. Like, think to the ending of Guardians of the Galaxy, where we have moments like Drax standing up for Gamora and Groot sacrificing himself. These moments only work because the characters had their relationships built up over the course of the movie so that there is a punch when these things happen. Suicide Squad really just throws it in just to have it.

Then we come to our villain. Enchantress is yet another villain I once detailed on Psycho Analysis, and my opinion on her remains unchanged. While she most certainly has a cool design, she is absolutely not the sort of world-ending supernatural threat a team of snarky jackasses should be fighting on their first mission together. The Squad should have had a mission more grounded in reality, and that can’t happen when you have an ancient interdimensional witch causing a Luddite zombie apocalypse through the power of interpretive dance. There’s also the fact that there’s never really any reason given to care about the character of June Moon, the host of the Enchantress, so the desperation of Rick Flag (a character so boring and pointless I didn’t even waste time mentioning him before) to save her comes off as hollow as most of the movie’s other emotional moments. Overall, Enchantress is just a boring generic doomsday villain who feels wildly out of place in the story and just doesn’t do anything to make herself stand out.

Then we have Joker.

I’m not really going to get into Jared Leto’s obnoxious behind-the-scenes antics, because that has little bearing on his performance, kind of like how his performance has little bearing on the film. As I mentioned before, this Joker is nothing more than a satellite for Harley. This is probably a good thing, because despite being called Joker he’s pretty divorced from most other interpretations; while he plays up the thuggish, brutish elements the Joker does typically have, everything else about him is just so jarringly non-Joker as to be laughable, from his ridiculous grill to the absolutely cringeworthy “Damaged” tattoo on his forehead. I wouldn’t go quite so far as to say he’s the worst villain in a superhero movie ever as some have, mostly because he’s not even in the film long enough to leave much of an impact. I will, however, say that so far he is the absolute worst onscreen depiction of Joker in film. Once again, if you’d like to hear more of my in-depth thoughts on Leto’s portrayal, I did make a Psycho Analysis on him a while back.

But all that aside, the worst aspect of this film is the writing. The writing is just utterly abysmal throughout, and while there are a few good lines sprinkled here and there, a lot of the dialogue is cringeworthy and the story itself is a convoluted mess. The story takes so many nonsensical turns from the get-go, starting with how Amanda Waller thinks a bunch of non-superpowered criminals could take down a metahuman threat; what the hell is Killer Croc, whose only power is “being an ugly cannibal,” going to do against Superman? That’s like if you put Leatherface up against a Predator, who would be stupid en-

...Oh. Right. Well, if nothing else, Amanda Waller has a very bright future as a designer for Mortal Kombat games. Beyond that, as mentioned above, a lot of the characters simply exist and serve little purpose in the narrative, and the ones that do serve a purpose are underplayed unless they’re Deadshot or Harley. You’d think Diablo’s tragic backstory and desire to have a family or Flag’s desire to save June from her curse would be more major elements, but nah. We don’t get much, if any, development on these fronts. And for the dialogue… well, I think this one speaks for itself:

youtube

Is It Really THAT Bad?

So I’ve been pretty hard on this film overall, I think, but here’s the shocking twist: I don’t think this is the worst DC movie. Frankly, I find the claims that this is the bottom of the barrel in terms of superhero films a gross overexaggeration. F4ntastic and The Amazing Spider-Man 2 are far and away worse films with little to no redeeming qualities whatsoever in them. At the very least, Suicide Squad is a fun kind of stupid, whereas those movies are bleak, miserable slogs that fail to even try and engage the viewer on any level.

And then, even within the DC movie lineup, I would not say this is worse than Dawn of Justice. Dawn of Justice has a more coherent story, and it in a general sense has better writing, dialogue, and so on… but it isn’t fun, it’s overly long, it’s incredibly pretentious, and it absolutely squanders the coolest concept for a crossover fight that there ever could be, all while giving us a Lex Luthor who is an obnoxious, whiny, sniveling brat who is utterly unbelievable as a threat. Suicide Squad almost seems within the ballpark of being self aware that it’s stupid schlock, and I find that infinitely more respectable than a film that, regardless of its artistic merit, thinks it’s deep and meaningful when it is anything but.

Suicide Squad is firmly on the side of “So bad it’s good,” and even within that category it’s somewhat underrated. I don’t necessarily think this film needs more respect per se, but I feel like it falls into the same category as movies like The Emoji Movie, where it isn’t good by any means but people will rant and rave about how it’s destroying cinema by being apocaliptically bad instead of just saying it’s crappy and moving on with their lives. Like this isn’t a great movie, but at least there’s a couple of enjoyable things, and superhero movies have been through far worse. Its current score of 6 on IMDB is honestly pretty fair. Is it spectacular? No. Could you be watching something way better. Definitely. But is it a trashy, idiotic romp with some good actors and some fun performances in a story so mind-bogglingly dumb that it needs to be seen to be believed? Hell yes.

#Is it really that bad?#IIRTB #movie #movie review #Suicide Squad #DC #DCEU #DC movie #superhero movie #so bad it's good

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rockislandadultreads · 4 years

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Adult Fantasy Fiction: 2020 releases

Prosper's Demon by K.J. Parker

In the pitch dark, witty fantasy novella Prosper's Demon, K. J. Parker deftly creates a world with vivid, unbending rules, seething with demons, broken faith, and worse men. In a botched demonic extraction, they say the demon feels it ten times worse than the man. But they don’t die, and we do. Equilibrium. The unnamed and morally questionable narrator is an exorcist with great follow-through and few doubts. His methods aren’t delicate but they’re undeniably effective: he’ll get the demon out—he just doesn’t particularly care what happens to the person. Prosper of Schanz is a man of science, determined to raise the world’s first philosopher-king, reared according to the purest principles. Too bad he’s demonically possessed.

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

A magical island. A dangerous task. A burning secret. Linus Baker leads a quiet, solitary life. At forty, he lives in a tiny house with a devious cat and his old records. As a Case Worker at the Department in Charge Of Magical Youth, he spends his days overseeing the well-being of children in government-sanctioned orphanages. When Linus is unexpectedly summoned by Extremely Upper Management he's given a curious and highly classified assignment: travel to Marsyas Island Orphanage, where six dangerous children reside: a gnome, a sprite, a wyvern, an unidentifiable green blob, a were-Pomeranian, and the Antichrist. Linus must set aside his fears and determine whether or not they’re likely to bring about the end of days. But the children aren’t the only secret the island keeps. Their caretaker is the charming and enigmatic Arthur Parnassus, who will do anything to keep his wards safe. As Arthur and Linus grow closer, long-held secrets are exposed, and Linus must make a choice: destroy a home or watch the world burn.

The Unspoken Name by A.K. Larkwood

What if you knew how and when you will die?

Csorwe does — she will climb the mountain, enter the Shrine of the Unspoken, and gain the most honored title: sacrifice.

But on the day of her foretold death, a powerful mage offers her a new fate. Leave with him, and live. Turn away from her destiny and her god to become a thief, a spy, an assassin—the wizard's loyal sword. Topple an empire, and help him reclaim his seat of power.

But Csorwe will soon learn – gods remember, and if you live long enough, all debts come due.

Things in Jars by Jess Kidd

Bridie Devine, female detective extraordinaire, is confronted with the most baffling puzzle yet: the kidnapping of Christabel Berwick, secret daughter of Sir Edmund Athelstan Berwick, and a peculiar child whose reputed supernatural powers have captured the unwanted attention of collectors trading curiosities in this age of discovery. Winding her way through the labyrinthine, sooty streets of Victorian London, Bridie won’t rest until she finds the young girl, even if it means unearthing a past that she’d rather keep buried. Luckily, her search is aided by an enchanting cast of characters, including a seven-foot tall housemaid; a melancholic, tattoo-covered ghost; and an avuncular apothecary. But secrets abound in this foggy underworld where spectacle is king and nothing is quite what it seems. Blending darkness and light, history and folklore, Things in Jars is a spellbinding Gothic mystery that collapses the boundary between fact and fairy tale to stunning effect and explores what it means to be human in inhumane times.

Sucker Punch by Laurell K. Hamilton

A brutal murder, a suspect in jail, and an execution planned, but what if the wrong person is about to be killed?⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ When a fellow U.S. Marshal asks Anita Blake to fly to a tiny community in Michigan's Upper Peninsula on an emergency consult, she knows time is running short. When she arrives, there is plenty of proof that a young wereleopard killed his uncle in the most gruesome and bloody way possible. As the mounting evidence points to him, a warrant of execution is already under way.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ But something seems off about the murder, and Anita has been asked for her expert opinion on the crime scene. Despite the escalating pressure from local cops and the family’s cries for justice for their dead patriarch, Anita quickly realizes that the evidence doesn't quite add up.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Time is against Anita, as the tight-knit community is up in arms and fear against supernaturals is growing. She races to uncover the truth and determine whether the Marshals have caught the killer or are about to execute an innocent man—all in the name of justice.

Latitudes of Longing by Shubhangi Swarup

A sweeping, lyrical debut about the love and longing between humanity and the earth itself, by a major new literary talent from India A spellbinding work of literature, Latitudes of Longing follows the interconnected lives of characters searching for true intimacy. The novel sweeps across India, from an island, to a valley, a city, and a snow desert to tell a love story of epic proportions. We follow a scientist who studies trees and a clairvoyant who speaks to them; a geologist working to end futile wars over a glacier; octogenarian lovers; a mother struggling to free her revolutionary son; a yeti who seeks human companionship; a turtle who transforms first into a boat and then a woman; and the ghost of an evaporated ocean as restless as the continents. Binding them all together is a vision of life as vast as the universe itself. A young writer awarded one of the most prestigious prizes in India for this novel, Shubhangi Swarup is a storyteller of extraordinary talent and insight. Richly imaginative and wryly perceptive, Latitudes of Longing offers a soaring view of humanity: our beauty and ugliness, our capacity to harm and love each other, and our mysterious and sacred relationship with nature.

#fiction #fantasy #new books #reading recs #book recs #reading recommendations #Book Recommendations #reading list #recommended reading #booklr #booklist #currently reading #tbr

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rosezure · 3 years

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Songbird 2 - New Beginnings

Songbird - Chapter 2

A/N: This chapter focuses more on certain BNHA characters, but there's still some Asa thrown in there.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the BNHA/MHA universe, nor its characters. This work is intended for entertainment purposes only. My own characters are, however, of my creation.

Content warning: mentions of jumping from planes, talk about character deaths, !spoilers for the manga!, some AU stuff cause what is cannon if not a suggestion, tattoos, talk about physiotherapy and injuries, swearing/language. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can correct/add it!

Summary | Chapter 1

If Keigo knew anything, it was that he hated the Hero Commission more than he hated Endeavor. And that was saying something, considering his longtime idol was a child abuser. He hated that they made him into a monster. They took an innocent child and distorted his reality.

Keigo decidedly hated a lot of things.

But he couldn't hate Aizawa. Not after everything that's happened. Not ever, actually. The man was every bit the hero Keigo once thought Endeavor was. Yet, he couldn't help but feel like the teacher had ulterior motives. The two sat across from each other on a small wooden table in a secluded pub. It was just on the outskirts of Musutafu, which made it the perfect place for this kind of encounter.

"I want you to teach at the UA."

There it was. The ulterior motive the hero Hawks was trained to identify. Keigo cursed in his mind. He really didn't want to find a reason to be suspicious of Aizawa of all people.

The man had literally sacrificed an eye and a leg for others, for fuck's sake!

"Shota... I don't think I can. What could I possibly teach? I'm a monster... These kids need an actual role model. Not some bastard murderer with a hero title." Keigo's voice was small and quiet. He was miles from the great Hawks he was supposed to be.

"We've all done things we're not proud of, no matter how big or small. You did what you thought you had to do. In the heat of the moment, it was your only option." The older hero sighed.

Aizawa looked at the young man in front of him. He looked so broken and fragile. But he understood. Killing Twice, someone so vulnerable yet dangerous, weighed more than Keigo let on. The Winged Hero Hawks died then and there in Keigo's mind. And Aizawa knew it was taking a long time to heal from that loss.

"Look," Keigo looked up from the table, "Killing Twice-" He visibly flinched, but Aizawa pressed on, "That wasn't the best thing you could do. The man could've been helped. Maybe he could've become a great hero or teacher even."

Keigo was about ready to stand up and leave at that. He wasn't going to sit and listen to yet another person throw his wrongdoings in his face. He didn't need it. His mind was cruel enough.

"You're right in feeling like shit. But I'd be more worried if you weren't. You're still a hero, Keigo. You saved lives that day, even if you took a drastic measure. Even if your decision was a horrible one." Aizawa took a deep breath. "You know it was wrong. You know it was cruel. But you had good intentions-"

"Hell is full of good intentions, Aizawa." Keigo gritted, hitting a fist on the table and standing up.

Aizawa stood up as well. "Then teach those kids to not make that mistake. Teach them about good intentions and good actions combined."

With that, the older male went to the cashier to pay for their drinks. Neither of them had taken one stingy sip, but Shota still thought ordering drinks was the polite thing to do.

The two left together. Being grounded was new to Keigo. Sure he walked every once in a while, but he'd be flying to his penthouse by now. He'd be soaring through the skies. The thought of the wind blowing through his feathers made Keigo look up to the sky. He longed for the day his wings grew back, then he'd flee and never return.

"I know that look," Aizawa's voice snapped him back to reality.

"The day I have my wings back..." The blonde whispered, "I'm leaving and never coming back, Shota. I'll be free."

"Will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Will you actually be able to leave?"

Keigo stopped in his tracks, making Aizawa pause as well. Would he really be able to run away? Would he be able to just take flight and never look back? Keigo wondered if he'd have the guts to do that.

"I don't know," He admitted with a sigh before starting to walk again.

"But I'd sure love to have the chance to find out."

On the other side of the world, Asa was packing her bags. She had very little time to prepare, and she wondered why the Queen and Santos hadn't informed her of this mission weeks ago. From Asa gather through the reports and files she read, the confrontation between heroes and villains in Japan was months ago. So why was she only being sent now?

She'd have to go through the other files Santos gave her. Maybe then Asa would know what was really going on.

"Asa!" Caique's voice rang from behind her door. Asa smiled softly.

"Come in, punk!" She shot back.

"Can you believe it? I'm Commander! I went from Captain to Commander!" He looked like a puppy that's just been given a new toy.

"Oh, shut up!" Asa laughed at his happiness.

"So, my subordinate," Caique sauntered over to Asa, putting an arm on her shoulder, "My first order is that you let me kick your ass once." He grinned cheekily.

Asa rolled her eyes and pushed his arm off her. "No way in hell, babe. I've got a rep to keep, you know?" She winked over her shoulder as she walked to her closet to gather more items.

"Hey!" Caique pouted. Asa giggled at his face, shaking her head.

"Don't pout," She scolded playfully, "It makes you look five."

"Right, and you hate children," He added teasingly.

"I do not!" Asa shot back laughing, "It's them that hate little ol' me." She shrugged.

"That's not true," Caique huffed and took a seat on her king-sized bed. "By the way, I never really understood why I got the position and not one of the generals."

"Cause I've been preparing you for the position for three years now. I was gonna retire right before the summer festivities."

"Retire?! Girl, you're like 23! The fuck you mean retire?"

"I've been at this for almost 16 years, Caique. And I'm unhappy."

Her words silenced Caique. He knew very little about his Commander. Asa was strong, intelligent, agile, cunning, and charming (if she wanted to be). She was 23 years old, soon turning 24, and she was quite attractive. But that's all he knew about her.

"You never really told me how a 7-year-old became a soldier."

"And I don't think I can ever tell you. I can't remember it myself without having a breakdown!" Asa tried to play it off as a joke, but they both knew this was a sensitive topic.

"So, are you done packing?" Caique quickly changed the subject. It was her last day here, and he didn't want Asa to be tackled by ugly memories.

"Almost. Most of my things are already on the plane." Asa gave him a small smile. "I slept a total of zero hours last night. Santos was adamant that everything needed to be loaded onto the plane before sunrise. And I mean everything!"

"That man is wound up way too tight," Caique shivered. "Is there a way I don't have to deal with him directly?"

"Sorry, but that stick in the mud is your issue now." Asa bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at Caique's disdainful expression.

"Thanks, that's really encouraging," His sarcasm made her lose her composure and laugh, "What's the mission anyway?" He looked at her attentively.

"You know I can't tell you that..." Asa trailed off, unsure how to keep her promise to the Queen without shutting Caique out.

"Ah, you're right. If the Queen asked you to keep it a secret, then you must," Caique offered Asa a small smile.

Ever since they met six years ago, Caique and Asa were joined at the hip. Neither went into battle without the other. It was common knowledge among the guards and soldiers that one should never mess with either of them. Now they were being separated, and it already felt like they were miles apart.

A few more minutes pass as the two make jokes and chat. Asa began to think about how she could remember her last moments in Pindorama forever. She needed something to look at or touch every day. Asa never dealt well with homesickness. As Caique helped her fold some clothes, an idea hit her. She grabbed his hands, inspecting the many drawings inked into his skin.

"What's up? Why are you suddenly so interested in my tattoos?" Caique chuckled as he let Asa twist and twist and turn his arms around.

"Let's get a tattoo together."

"What?! Now?!"

"Yes, right now. Call the artist!"

Keigo couldn't believe this was happening. He took Aizawa's offer and applied to a position in the UA High School. However, he didn't think they'd actually accept him. And he was even more surprised to learn the Commission authorized it. Had everyone gone insane?

The world really did turn upside down...

But here he was: sitting in Nezu's office and listening to him drone on about the rules, the teaching plans, and other things Keigo wasn't paying attention to. Shit, he actually got in. Now what?

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask Aizawa. I've put him in charge of your training. Please be prepared to start in April next year." Nezu smiled at Keigo, standing up to shake the blonde's hand.

After that, Keigo left the headmaster's office in a daze. The last six months were hell: grieving the loss of fellow heroes, dealing with his demons, going back and forth from the hospital and his residence... Keigo couldn't remember a time in which he felt carefree and at ease. And now he's shaking whatever peace he still had.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

"Probably your greatest challenge yet." Aizawa lazily lifted the corners of his mouth as he limped towards Keigo.

"Oh, I don't doubt it..." He muttered to himself.

"Follow me. I'll give you a short tour, then we can head out for some coffee." Shota offered as he pointed his chin to the hall he came from.

"A tour would be nice, I guess..." Keigo shrugged his shoulders and followed the older man.

Aizawa could be surprisingly chatty, it seemed. He showed him as many classes as he could. He took Keigo to see the event arenas and other facilities. Last but not least, he took him to the teachers' room.

"We prepare our classes here," The hero explained, "Over there, we have the cabinets with students' tests and reports. Next to that, we have the teachers' lockers. You can keep some personal items in there."

Keigo walked over to the lockers, tracing the names of the heroes that taught at the UA. He recognized some of them. These lockers had belonged to some of the fallen heroes. Keigo's back ached with phantom pain. Seeing those names triggered the torturous memories from six months ago.

"They haven't had the heart to remove the names," Aizawa explained.

"They shouldn't." Keigo placed his fingers over Midnight's name tag, "She'd want us to remember her."

"Other teachers survived and will be returning."

"They won't be the same."

"No one's the same."

"Nothing's the same. Everything and everyone is different," Keigo sighed, "And different is bad."

"Different allows growth."

"So it seems." Keigo scoffed at his own words.

Was he even still capable of that? Growth was such a foreign concept for someone who was fabricated. Oh, the irony. He was built from scratch, molded to the Commission's wishes. He "grew" under their supervision. Would he have grown at all if they hadn't taken him in?

"How about that coffee?"

"I think I'll pass. I want to start working on the material I'm gonna present in class."

"I suggest a more hands-on approach. Depending on which class you're assigned to, theory won't get you anywhere. I speak from experience." Aizawa thought of the many setbacks a specific class had due to the students' tempers.

"Right. Still, I'd like to-"

"Form a strategy? Make a plan? You're not patrolling, and you're definitely not in an undercover mission. This is teaching," Aizawa paused, trying to think of the right words, "You need a base, but you're gonna have to improvise from time to time. And these are teenagers, not villains. The most they can do is piss you off." He smirked teasingly.

"Got it," Keigo answered simply, already flipping through a book on teaching methods he found lying about.

Aizawa rubbed his face, watching the ex-hero with something akin to pity. The boy had never been a real teenager. How was he supposed to deal with so many of them at once? He'd need a lot of support, that's for sure.

The two sat at the table near the pantry. Keigo was reading aloud some parts of the book he found, asking Aizawa for his input. Whenever the older hero gave a tip, Keigo immediately recorded it on his phone's note app. Halfway through the fourth chapter, Principal Nezu walked in.

"Aizawa, I just received great news from Tokyo!" His ears twitched in excitement.

"What news?" Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

"The Prime Minister has successfully contacted Pindorama. They're sending the hero we discussed last week. She'll be arriving next week!" Nezu informed with a smile.

"You mean the one with the practically extinct quirk?"

"Yes, exactly."

"I heard she was trouble."

"Oh, I doubt she'll be a burden to us."

"Sorry to interrupt," Keigo lifted his head from the book, now curious about the person they were talking about, "Who are you talking about?"

"Oh! Hawks!" Keigo stiffened at the use of his hero name, "I forgot to mention it to you earlier, but you won't be the only newbie. A special guest is coming from another country to help with things around here. She has a very rare quirk, which will greatly help us as a country bounce back from the events of March." Nezu beamed, folding his paws in front of his chest.

"What kind of quirk?" Keigo squinted his eyes.

"It's of a healing nature, but no one is sure of how it works," Aizawa explained, "There's not much written about this quirk. The only group of people that knew everything about it are all gone." He slumped in his seat, feeling sleepy already.

"So, there are no records on it? How can we trust this stranger?" Keigo frowned.

"That's a reasonable question," Nezu lifted himself onto one of the vacant chairs and looked at Keigo, "But there's no need to worry. She's a show of the alliance between the two countries. If anything goes wrong, it'll be a war declaration."

"That just makes her even more dangerous. I don't think we should let someone so-" Aizawa interrupted Keigo by clearing his throat.

"Rest assured, Keigo, that she won't be a problem to any of us," Nezu added. He smiled widely once more before hopping off the chair and bidding the two heroes goodbye.

A few minutes passed as Keigo continued to read the book and ask Aizawa questions. Meanwhile, the raven-haired man was fighting to stay awake and help the young man understand the methods and concepts. But he had drained himself during his physiotherapy session that morning. He needed a nap, or he'd pass out right there.

Sensing the older man's tiredness, Keigo decided to excuse himself. He told Aizawa he'd continue reading at home and that he'd take notes of any doubts that might surface. After packing his things, Keigo bid the teacher goodbye and left.

The next time the two men met, Keigo was at the school to look for more teaching supplies. They greeted each other at the gates with a quiet nod each. Aizawa seemed better, stronger, Keigo noted. Maybe his physiotherapy sessions had been paying off. Eri's contribution probably helped too.

Aizawa had once told him that Eri wanted to heal him and give him his wings back. But Keigo had refused. He didn't want them back, not like this. Hawks died, and if Keigo had any say in it, he'd stay dead. So, if his wings grew back, he wanted to earn them and start anew.

For days, he and Aizawa would sit together near the pantry in the teacher's room. Keigo would read excerpts from teaching books or bring teaching plans and ask for Aizawa's input. Day in and day out, the older man would reassure the blonde that the material was suitable. And day in and day out, Keigo would create different versions on the same plan. He swore they were only backups in case he forgot to prepare for a class or something. But Shota Aizawa knew very well that the young man was scared of messing up.

After what happened in March, Class 1-A was going to need a lot of support. So Aizawa often found himself praying to a whatever higher energy that they'd be okay. That every student and teacher would find solace in being a hero and saving lives. He prayed for everyone to find a way to cope.

These prayers always startled Shota. He wasn't religious at all! He never cared about gods or spirits or ancestors. But he sure as fuck hoped that something was watching over them and that things would be fixed. He knew better than anyone how naive thinking like this was. But he also knew it was better than wallowing in self-pity.

Yet, Aizawa felt like Keigo would be the one getting support from the students.

Aizawa just wished Keigo would accept any form of support.

"Ready when you are, Siren!" The pilot yelled over the radio system of the plane, "We are one minute away from the drop-off point!"

"Roger that, Captain!" Asa shot back, preparing her equipment and adjusting her suit.

Her first mission was to infiltrate the HPSC building and bug the president's office. If she had time, Asa was going to try and bug any other high-ranked offices too. She had to be precise and fast. One slipup and the whole mission could be compromised.

Once they reached the drop-off point, Asa removed her protective headset and put on her goggles. She waited for the crew to open the plane's doors while she made sure everything was ready. The plane's doors opened, and Asa saluted the soldiers behind her before throwing herself out of the plane.

Asa had missed the exhilaration of jumping into the night. She forgot how thrilling it was and how powerful she felt. The dropping point had been 14000 feet (around 4267 meters) high, so Asa had about a minute of free-falling before she could open her wings. Having done this many times before, Asa successfully landed on top of a building south of the HPSC headquarters.

She retracted her wings, thankful for her suit being backless, and prepared to jump onto the next building. They dropped her off a little away from the premises to not alert any busybodies.

Asa wasted no time getting to work. In just under 10 minutes, she had made it onto one of the windows on the 14th floor of the HPSC's building's south side. And in less than 20 minutes, Asa had located the president's office.

Asa managed to open one of the smaller windows and slithered in. She placed a bug on one of the far corners of the giant window behind the desk. She also placed another under the desk table and one behind a few books. Asa put the fourth and last bug under the clock that hung over the entrance door. After that, as quickly as she got in, Asa was out. She checked her watch. Asa had some time left before a helicopter picked her up at the designated rendezvous point. So, she decided to find the vice-president's office, or maybe a lab of some sort.

Flying around the building, Asa used her enhanced vision goggles to see if she could locate any useful information. On the west side, she found a lab with the words "authorized personnel only" printed on the door. Squinting, Asa flew closer and found a way in. Smirking at her findings, she bugged the lab as thoroughly as she could.

Once she was outside again, Asa dropped onto a nearby building and sprinted to the rendezvous point.

"This is Siren speaking," Asa's voice was barely above a whisper, "Heading to the pick-up point."

Asa dropped down from a building, disappearing into the night.

Chapter 3

#bnha #mha #hawks x oc #keigo takami x oc #hawks #keigo takami #bnha au #bnha oc #hawks fanfic #bnha fanfic #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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laureviewer · 4 years

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Dragons Quest XI: Echoes of an Elusive Age—A Review

WARNING: (not full) spoilers below.

‘We did it darliiiings!’

That’s what I cried, a-la the Great Sylvando, once I finished this game. 112 hours in, and all the way through it showed no signs of slowing. Which, for a shameless JRPG-lover like myself, is exactly what I want in a game. Hours and hours of combat, exploration through stunning scenery, empathetic and deep characters and, most importantly, a completely immersive and entertaining story that I can’t wait to see the climax—but, crucially, I can.

The Chosen One

The story begins in Erdrea, where monsters have invaded the fantastical world—why, we’re not quite sure. All we know, as the infant protagonist, is that we are found washed up on the riverbank by a kindly old man named Chalky, who takes us to his village and gives us to our adoptive mother, Amber.

And, guess what? He’s the Chosen One—the Luminary. You’d have thought our hero would have realised something was different about him with the presence of a very specific birthmark tattooed on the back of his hand, but he and his childhood friend Gemma do come from a sheltered town with very little knowledge of the outside world, after all. True to form for a lot of adventure games, he’s the only one who can save the world. After finding this out in a coming-of-age ceremony a few years later, Amber tells him to go to King Carnelian of Heliodor, who is sure to help him understand what all this means. Right?

If our silent protagonist could talk, this is where he would be screaming, ‘I’m not the Darkspawn!’ as King Carnelian throws him in the dungeon. But thank Yggdrasil he did, or we wouldn’t meet our first companion in our band of loveable misfits.

The Power of Friendship

I’m still unsure why, after so many hours of gameplay, why Erik endears himself the most to me, but he does. Sure, he’s the first one you meet, and you team up to escape the dungeon (running from a giant dragon along the way!), but he’s also a dishonest thief. Throughout the game, you never quite know if he’s in it for himself or to help you save the world. I’ve concluded that he’s actually doing it for you, and your budding bromance…or, at least, that’s my own head cannon. He’s misunderstood. His cutting sarcasm is welcome in a story of overly keen optimists (see: Sylvando). And he’s who the hero seems to look at whenever there’s a sweet, sentimental moment in the story, cementing their true friendship.

Or, maybe it’s because Akira Toriyama drew these characters, and his colourful hair and spunky attitude remind me of my childhood DBZ crush, Trunks. Either way, I’m Team Erik, with his knife-wielding, quick-thinking style of fighting, all the way. My only gripe is that his damage wasn’t that great for me until endgame, unfortunately.

Even though we don’t meet Sylvando until later, it seems that my mind demands he be the next to discuss—much like Sylvando demands much of the attention within the game. We first meet him at the circus, where he is a beloved performer. His quest is to make the people of the world smile—a noble endeavour in a world where the Dark One is coming to rid the world of happiness for good. He is the absolute epitome of flamboyance: he calls your band of companions ‘darlings’; he has a half-naked ship captain with bulging muscles and a pink face mask called Dave, of all things; and he even leads a peacock-feathered parade at a certain point in the game, which the hero must cheerily join in, feathers and sassy sway absolutely necessary.

And yet, he doesn’t simply function as comic relief. He is brave, charming, sympathetic, and quite often the heart of the group. He is always the one to ask if a character is okay, or if they need help, and has conviction that only Henrik, our resident knight in shining armour, would rival. Plus, he’s fantastic with a whip (because of course he is) and has some fabulous healing moves that have saved me more than once in a tough fight. The group would be nothing without Sylvando—and he absolutely knows it!

Veronica & Serena serve as our other characters who are bound by destiny. They are Keepers, born to protect aid the Luminary on his quest. As twins, you’d expect them to look the same…but, after an encounter with monsters, Veronica was turned into a child, and is stuck that way. As an offensive mage who hates being treated like a child, she serves as the brash one of the group, quick to anger, much like her fiery spells.

Serena, on the other hand, serves as the yin to Veronica’s yang. She is temperate and always willing to help, if somewhat hapless. The primary healer of the group, she excels in restorative and defensive magic, and has a harp to while away the less hopeful days. As a pair, these two are steadfast, loyal, and…to be honest, aren’t much more interesting than that, unless Veronica is being goaded into an argument.

Until the later game, anyway. I won’t spoil that here, but will just say I underestimated both their spell casting abilities and their importance in the story.

You know how the hero is the Chosen One, the Luminary and the absolute saviour of the world? Well, he also happens to be a Prince of Dundrasil. Had the fates been kinder, he might have been brought up in a huge castle, with loving royal family around to raise and guide him.

Rab, a fierce, playful and wise old man (with a banging Scottish accent) is ready to heal, attack with offensive magic, and guide our hero around the expansive world. And, as we find out after defeating him and his sexy companion in a battle competition in Octagonia (see: Jade), he is also grandfather to our hero, and thus a Lord of Dundrasil himself. He may seem old, but not only does he have royal blood, but he is a capable spell-caster and martial artist, making it apparent that he is one of the most capable companions in the game. If I were to ask anyone for advice, knowing that he would neither mince his words nor omit anything important, I would go to Rab.

You know what any game directed at kids needs? That’s right, a sexy warrior princess that you can stick in a bunny costume for most of the game. Even if you choose not to do that, her combat outfit doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Thankfully, Jade isn’t just eye-candy. She has far more going for her. She’s a Princess of Heliodor, the hero’s childhood companion who lost him as a baby. She just wants to find him, her younger brother figure (sadly), and help him fulfil his destiny. Plus, as a battle and spear fighter, she has some of the strongest moves in the game—albeit mostly from her sexy, love-based moves such as ‘Hip Thrust’ and ‘Sexy Beam’, only comparable with Sylvando’s equally as sexy and flamboyant ‘Lashings of Love’ and ‘That’s Amore’ moves. She’s a badass bitch who takes no crap from lovestruck men or monsters.

Though, she has her very own Princess Leia moment, where she is captured by a horrific, giant, evil and ugly monster and made to wear a sexy outfit (hey, there’s that bunny girl outfit again). It is heavily implied she has been under his mind control, and that he’s been having his ‘wicked way’ with her. Good thing she comes out of it with sexy vampire powers, isn’t it?

HEAVY SPOILERS NOW. I warn you, don’t go any further if you care about that kind of thing.

Our final companion is one who doesn’t show up until late game. Sir Henrik, a Knight of Heliodor, is the hero we all need. He defends his ruler to the last (which, spoiler alert, nearly ended up being his fatal flaw), is willing to sacrifice himself for the good of all, and defends the weak: a true knight, with chivalry, bravery, and total care for all others. It’s a shame he hated the hero for the first half of the game, really.

But do I care about that? No, I care that his greatsword abilities make him an absolute tank. On a one-on-one fight, I needed him front and centre of every battle just for his incredible damage output. Against multiple enemies, he is less useful, but with his supplementary healing and defence skills, he isn’t just an attacker, but a true defender of the people to the last.

Calm it with the Combat

My god, this game has a lot of battles. While that’s expected for a turn-based JRPG, and there were a lot, unlike others such as Pokémon, you can choose which battles to avoid as the figures traverse the overworld. This is useful in such a slow-burning game, and also helps you find the monsters you want—again, a definite improvement on the way Pokémon works, as it saves you having to fight hundreds of creatures you don’t want to find the ones with the best EXP.

A notable exception to this is when you have to find and defeat a rare monster for a quest, which don’t traverse the overworld. This means you have to fight potentially hundreds of more common monsters to find the one you want, which can be frustrating, especially as it is all done on chance and not on how many you have defeated. While you can increase your chances with various items or equipment, it still adds a frustrating amount of time to an already long game.

Another vague annoyance is how much harder the game gets post-game. I actually did not have an issue with this, as a friend told me how to farm the elusive and high-EXP metal slimes using a particular Hero-Erik-Jade Pep Power and so I could use this ability throughout post-game. However, for those not in the know, the potentially grinding at the end of the game may put some people off finishing an already saturated game.

What I loved about the combat was how it kept getting harder and harder. I never worried about over-levelling (as said above, I was more worried about being under levelled) and that meant I could do what I do best: do all side-quests before the end of the main story. In other JRPGs, the completionist in me has always made me want to do all side-quests, but this has meant the final boss has been underwhelming and easier than it should be.

The variation of powers and attacks was also really interesting. You can spec into different forms of fighting for each character—I went for Swords with the hero, Whips for Sylvando, Boomerangs with Erik (after using Daggers for most of the game), Heavy Wands for Rab and Veronica, Wands for Serena, Spears for Jade, and Greatswords for Henrik—and this makes all the combinations of them in the party very cool. I normally just controlled the hero during the fights and let the others fight wisely, unless there was a specific quest to fulfil or a particularly hard boss. Not only did this speed up combat, but it also helped me to learn which of their moves were the most effective against which monsters automatically and quickly, which was easier than picking moves and trying them out myself. It’s easy, with enough gold, to respec if you like, and this I’m sure could make the game fee different every time if you wanted to play with different specs.

Pep powers were also a lot of fun. While it was sometimes annoying waiting for some or all of the characters to pep up and therefore use these moves that combine different characters’ moves for ‘Ultimate’ attacks, they provided fun cutscenes and made the battles more interesting. Plus, they reminded me a lot of DBZ moves, especially the epic ones with the hero and Rab!

Top tip: you can swap out characters and they will keep their pepped-up status. I wish I’d known about that a lot earlier!

The monster designs are great, as per usual Akira Toriyama style. There are lots of different kinds, from slimes, to mechs, to really weird ones like the kissy lip monster and the Bongo Drongos. The bosses are also amazing. Just all the character designs, from human to monster, to anything else. I see a lot of DBZ in all of them, which is fantastic.

You know what? Here’s some pictures. You’re welcome.

Mini Games & Challenges: Hey, I actually want to do these!

I often have issues with mini games, as sometimes they are so different from the main game that I just don’t want to spend time playing them. Gwent in another of my favourite games, The Witcher 3 is a good example: I never really learnt the rules, which I’m sure would have helped, but it was so detached from the main game I just didn’t care. Plus, it had no effect on the story or game at large, so what was the point?

In DQ11, sure, you don’t need to rack up 500,000 casino tokens in poker or the slots to buy better gear. You don’t have to finish first in all five Gallopolis horse races. Forging items isn’t totally needed to advance the game. It’s not necessary to win all five rounds of the Wheel of Harma in a certain number of moves (though this is much more like the rest of the game than the other mini games). But I did all of these, and it was great fun. It’s what’s helped make the game such a time suck (especially the casino) but I never felt like they were a chore.

Apart from the crossbow bullseyes. I did none of them as apparently I only noticed about three out of however many there are. They can suck my Sword of Light.

What’s a good JRPG without me questioning the point of life after it’s over?

JRPGs do it best—fight me.

The story of DQ11 is immersive, interesting, intricate and, at times, incredibly heart-breaking. Following the hero and his friends for over 100 hours really means you get to dive into their adventure, and more so, their relationships. You truly believe why they have chosen to follow each other into danger, to protect each other as well as the world. Sure, he’s the Luminary, so Serena & Veronica, the Luminary’s guides, at least have a reason to follow him to the end. The fact he’s the Luminary at may mean the characters have more faith in him than they would anyone else without lightning powers. But, even without that, you get the impression that they trust him for his innocent and yet resolute determination to do the right thing, whatever the cost.

The NPCs in the game also provide variety and are a lot of fun. There’s a lovesick mermaid, a brilliantly incompetent prince, two brothers in Laguna di Gondolia who are trying to sell the same things to you for different prices, and Silvando’s Smile Brigade, to name just a few. Their backstories, personalities and current stories all bring life to a game already chock full of it, and makes even simple fetch quests interesting and well worth doing, if you value a good story like I do. These little touches explain why the game clocks in at well over 100+ hours, but at the same time gives true justification to why that is. It’s the difference between a boring game, and one I loved to turn on and just relax of an evening. I might not have done all that much in three hours, but I still enjoyed every minute.

With everything considered, I will remember DQ11 fondly as one of my favourite JRPGs to date. The storyline, characters, combat and score are all fantastic and makes me wish I played the older games. Thank you, Dragon Quest, for giving me 112 hours of fun.

#game review #dragon quest 11 #dragon quest xi #dq11 #dqxi #games #gaming #review

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twopoppies · 5 years

Note

Heyy, i love your fic recs!! I found some many fics I haven’t read before. Do you know any time travel fics? I looked in you blog before making this ask, but I couldn’t find any.

Hi love. I’m so happy you found some new ones to read! That’s awesome. And ooooh…..I love time travel fics. Sorry you couldn’t find any on my Tumblr. Honestly, my tagging system blows. LOL! But I’m glad you asked because now I get to make a fic rec!

every universe but ours by @28finelines (E, 50K) this fic so touching and funny and sexy and I read it all in one go! Please go read it because it’s like reading multiple Larry fics in one, each one with that “I would find you in any lifetime” vibe.

like a boomerang by youwill (M, 48K) Very loosely based on the movie Groundhog’s Day (essentially just the concept of re-living a day over and over), this fic is delightful and charming and really worth a read. Link is to a download.

Jaerie’s Kinktober: Self-cest by @jaerie Oh, I loved this fic, there was a beautiful subtlety to it. The hints of how Harry would grow into his body and his gender, the hints towards monogamy, and the hint towards the pain involved with closeting was all wrapped up in the subtlety of how different Harry at 27 is from how he is at 19. It’s only 2K, but it felt like so much more.

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach (E, 160K) Probably my absolute favorite time travel fic. I’ve read it more times than I’d like to admit, and every time I love it more. One of the things I like most is how organically the author weaves in canon events…every little moment is an easter egg without it being so obvious that it pulls you out of the fic. Anyway, this one is so moving and so absorbing, I hope you like it if you give it a try! There’s an 18K companion piece to it as well, but you’ll see the link at the appropriate time when you’re reading the main fic (and when you read the scene that breaks your heart –– in the best possible way –– come and scream at me. You’ll know which one I mean).

Temporary Tattoos, Hotel Hearts, Horizon Homes by Teumessian (E, 18K) This is just 18K of love for Louis Tomlinson. It soft and gentle and so worth a read.

a’int had none like you in a while by istajmaal (E, 12K) Ok, so first of all, read the tags. Don’t read this one if you have an issue with age difference in fics. If that’s not a squick for you, you get to read Harry and Louis traveling back in time to teach younger versions of themselves…a lot. This is one of my favorite authors when it comes to smut and this one has it in spades. There’s an 18K second part to it as well: once i figured it out (baby it was easy).

I won’t let you forget by graceling_in_a_suit / @graceling-in-a-suit (T, 7K) I love the writing in this one. It’s one of those fics that has that kind of melancholic, dreamy feel to it that I really enjoy. Plus, it has a “no matter what, I would find you in any lifetime” vibe. So good.

The Second Hand Unwinds by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie) / @kingsofeverything (E, 52K) Also known as “the NASA fic”. This one has such a unique and well thought-out storyline. Add in time travel, exes to lovers, ot5, and excellent pacing….you’ve got yourself a great fic!

One More Time Again by @rougeandtonic (E, 232K) Canon compliant fix-it fic. If you ever wanted to go back in time and have karma catch up to Simon and have the boys realize how much they’re worth right from the start….this is your fic. Link is to a download.

your quietest voice by flimsy (E, 8K) Beautiful writing (like, just savor the sentences…they’re so pretty) and a really unique concept for time travel.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics (GA, 102K) Not exactly a time travel fic, but I think it fits. And it’s one of my favorite fics over all. The story is so unique and so beautifully plotted and I cried ugly tears reading it. It’s just a must read.

So much stays unknown till the time comes by becka (E, 5K) Another old one by another author I really like. A short time travel fic that is both sad and sexy. It’s got a bit of an open ending, but you still get the sense everything is going to work out. It’s just a touching little fic (read tags, there’s some internalized homophobia in this one).

for neither never nor ever by fairytalelights / @lookslikefairytale (E, 29K) This is based on a TV show I’ve never seen, but it is such a unique and layered time travel story. I was captivated by the twists and turns. Yes, it’s ultimate a love story, but it’s so much more as well.

Woke Up With A Boy (Who Looks Just Like You) by glitteredcurls / @kissyboystyles (GA, 26K) This one is actually still on my to read list, but @cuethetommo (whose taste I trust) recommended it, so I’m adding it here!

I hope I’ve got some here you haven’t read yet. Enjoy!

#Anonymous #my fic rec #larry fic rec #time travel fics

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corpse-dancer · 4 years

Text

Combat Mode - Azgüikharaal

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ — strength

★★★★★★★★★☆ — offence

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ — defense

★★★★★★★★★★ — speed

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ — durability

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ — accuracy

★★★★★★★★★★ — agility

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ — stamina

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ — teamwork

★★★★★★★★☆☆ — stealth

★★★★★★★★☆☆ — close combat

★★★★★★★★★★ — bladed weapons

★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ — blunt weapons

★★★★★★★★★★ — ranged weapons

★★★★★★★★☆☆ — magic

★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ — traps/setups

★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ — medic

–Overview–

Az is the type of fighter to move in hard, fast and with little room for retaliation. What she lacks in strength and endurance, she makes up for in speed and agility, using her natural momentum to add that extra oomph to her attacks and keep her opponents either on their toes or off balance. That being said, the Arulaq can only take a few good hits before it begins to take a toll on her, not so much in the way that she’s unable to fight, but more so that she becomes increasingly unhinged.

–Any Lasting Combat Injuries?–

Though not from an actual battle, not one that anyone would consider a battle anyway, her palms and the backs of her hands are covered in thick, ugly burn scars. The tribal tattoos that once swirled across the tanned skin lie warped and twisted in the angry mess of damaged flesh, though few have ever seen them.

–Fighting Style–

–Traits–

╳ flaws

♔ strengths

Tagged by: @koikoikisses

Tagging: @thorcatte, @thorstyrh, @miqojak, @drachenlance, @thetitor, @glorified-thieves, @yshai-tia, @under-the-blood-moonlight, @kyrie-silverwings, @lavender-hemlock, @journeybetweenworlds, @vysaldhe, @lace-and-steelxiv, @wildname, @a-knight-in-savage-lands, @hingashi-fox, @halcyonic-aether, @palaceofthedeadmemes and eeeeverybody else

#muse things

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mikkock · 5 years

Note

HELLO I ADORE YOUR OCS SO MUCH WILL YOU TELL ME ABOUT KAI HE LOOKS LIKE A TOTAL "YOUR DAUGHTER CALLS ME DADDY TOO" DOUCHEBAG AND I FUCKING LOVE HIM AND WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT HIM

LBLMVBGK THANK U OMG love it when ppl like my kids, im a proud dad rn

ALSO wrow congrats on ur on point analysis, cause, that’s the Essence Of His Being (fun fact since i got two characters who go by the name of kai -cause fuck that basic writing tip that says ‘dont have two characters named the same thing- i usually refer to him as The Bad Kai cuz he a bad bitch)

so lets unwrap that dude shall we uwu

SO this dude was created when i realised my story didnt have antagonists so i made a bunch of Bad People and then they all became good people after i started giving them more personnality somehow eXCEPt him for some reason, the only survivor of the “everyone will be baby” plague, the only rude bitch in this house, the only guy who’s still on the dark grey side of morally grey...but tbh im in love with him cause he’s an asshole and im an idiot so like.

His base concept was basically something along the lines of “fuckboy but make it Couture”, like douchebag indeed But Gotta Be Fancy at being one, gotta add a pinch of Sneaky Bitch in the pot. His aesthetic is Chillin, gettin in ur pants, then moving on for some more chillin and more pants. So if you’re into some funky sexy time with no pressure and no ties, ya gon get along, your goals meet, time to have fun.

All that is supported by his charisma, cause unless ya got some nasty history, he’ll just look like that charming bad-boy “oho hot dude with a dangerous but not agressive” vibed person, and he’s quite a sweet-talker. He’s probs not only the ‘your daughter calls me daddy’ kind but also ‘and so will YOU, i’m scoring with the whole family and you wont stop me (and you wont WANT to stop me)’

He got that handsome ppl priviledge ya feel

but also, he wouldnt be a rude guy if he was just the ‘i enjoy chill frick-fracking and im just so sexy that no one can say no to that booty’ guy

Dude got quiiite some spite-fueled ego and Does Not Take losing well, and will not, in fact, let himself lose on any objective he has, and when that objective is A Person, he gets ugly. Being good at sweet talking also means being good at small stuff like “not saying exactly the truth always when it would be more beneficial not to”, “deliberately using euphemistic, ambiguous or obscure language so to mask wrong doings and technically saying the truth but in such a way that it becomes completely masked by a thick fog of bullshit”, and “use words and behaviour in general to influence others unscrupulously so to get something in return”. Even a little “playing with their perception in order to make them doubt in their thoughts and selves”. In short dude got no qualms about using all the tools of manipulation available if it means that he comes on top (or on bottom if the goal was getting an assful eeeeeey we’re masters of comedy here) It tends to be all for short term results tho, so not much your ‘boyfriend who convinces you you’re nothing without him” and more of a “you thought you were dating but only you were thinking that as he always kept it just vague enough to have you not official yet convinced of his and now you’re blaming yourself for believing you were together”

master of getting ass, also master of Ugly Ass Breakups, and master of suddenly dissapearing from your life so hard that you wonder if it was just your imagination all along (he got ugly past with a bunch of other ocs especially he’s ex boyfriend with two that are now together cause i dig that sort of drama the sAME dUDe gave u the trust issues that held u from going full lovey dovey ? i fucking lIVE off that kinda shit wait until he pops back like ‘oho hello fancy seeing YOU TWO here my two fave exes together incredible what a small world”)

Though I have to rework on all that cause that backstory is oLD AS SHIT (like prolly i built it in what, 2016? ew ugly) I had that stem from some sort of neglect-fueled inferiority complex. I had given him a kinda cold family with a bunch of siblings who got Way More Nurtured due to their respective talents and achievements, having him left behind and feeling like he got nothing. SO that’s basically the explanation as of today but i dont like iiiiit anymooooore so I’ll have to work on it to make it something i dig, cause idk, bitch feels flat so far.

BUT i do intend on keeping the whole concept of ~Loneliness~, and of him working alone and quite hard for anything he gets. And the general need of proving himself that had come from the WIP backstory. I don’t exactly see him as an overachiever at all, but definitly as an obstinate and persevering hardworking guy, because “Look YALL I WAS aBLE TO DO THIS YALL THOUGHT I COULDNT HUH YALL LOOK DOWN ON ME well fuck u cause idc im better than u now also ur mum’s into bondage i kno from experience bye”. So tbh pair up with him for group projects, you’ll be sure his share of the work will be done (but also if you dont do yours then he’s probably going to be a bITCh about it, no remorse in leaving blank slides in the middle of the powerpoint and then loudly proclaiming ‘OH RIGHT This was supposed to be Kevin’s part but I suppose he never sent it to me, despite the numerous reminders i sent him, no big deal, no hard feelings, its ok sweetie we all sometimes feel too lazy i forgive u :)” )

Also he’d be Chill to hang out with for like, parties, nights out at the bar, that kinda shit. He definetly has some beans to spill about quite some people, he gathers the goss as he gathers lovers (i was gonna end that in “as he spreads legs” but it sounded too PG-18 for this good Well Behaved family friendly blog) and Will Not stay tight lipped, and Will be a bitch when trashtalking people, and It Will Be Entertaining as it always is when you’re hearing about crazy exes and you’ve had some beers.

Now trivia that idk where else to write cause idk i stupid or more like disorganised :

- he digs red ale beer like if ya wanna win him over with the appropriate alcohol offer there u go

- he’s a fake blonde (cause my hobby is painting regrowth roots on hair)

- his design is a mixture of those 3dgy denim boys u see on pinterest and the specific brand of fuckboys that are french-L-section-chic-grunge-hipster-fuckboys (L section is like a branch of highschool)(that word combo is a so specific kinda guy)(its kinda like a softboi but more arrogant but in a lowkey way)(also they rich)(but he’s not rich so guess that should make him Less Arrogant)

-im constantly dead afraid of giving him more characteristics and story or whatveer cause he’s the only meanie i got left and i do Not want him to stop being an asshole but everytime i develop a character they end up nice or redeemed or whatever and i wanna keep him a bitch so i neglect him (just like his parents in his 2016 version wow)

he smokes (prolly started quite early to Be Kool and now relies on it for stress relief)

he’s outspoken and extraverted and prolly the guy who had a lot to say when you were doing debates in class (there’s always that person who has a Lot to argument about)(its him) but outside of a Set and Defined debate structure he probably doesnt give his mind voraciously

he’s a law student and despite saying he’s the one bad guy left he probably wont be a corrupt lawyer or judge or whatever like come on he will do his job properly he worked hARD FOR THIS justice may be served

he’s not the kind to openly hate or even dislike anyone cause what’s the point of wasting your energy on that? its much funnier to him to be obnoxiously Neutral with someone and basically ignore them but still strike them with some Spikes of passive-agressive comments, let them be Mad at your calmness

he’s 177cm tall (that’s like 5.8 according to google)

honestly if you’re bros with him he’s fun to be with the being a jerk is completly coincidental

he probably ranks high in the list of “those criminals who steal big lighters from their friends”

i think at a point his design had tattoos but i forgot the designs of those so now he doesnt anymore

a dog person

i think ive run out of facts (or my brain dead) so im leavin with a shirtless pic cause my hobby is drawing tits

in short, charming asshole who can get ugly, secretly feels lonely and small, works hard for himself, better have him as a friend than as a foe though probably not the most frontally agressive enemy, and also, your booty, hand it over.

#people probably excuse his naughty behaviour bc of his looks and that's the fact

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rnainframe · 5 years

Note

every! single! one!

can you tell my mood dropped hard like halfway through

angel; do you have a nickname?at the moment lars is pretty much just a nickname because my mom won’t let me get a name change

awe; how old are you?19!

baby; favorite color?red!

bloop; spirit animal?that’s not a very good term iirc but i guess wolf?

blossom; favorite book/movie/song?book: wolves of the beyond is very near and dear to memovie: the world’s end, the thing 1982, the incredibles, deadpoolsong: i have... so many

blush; what was your stuffed animal as a child?

her name is baby, she’s dressed up, and i still sleep with her to this day,

breeze; most precious childhood memory?sitting behind my dad and watching as he plays games on the psx and gamegear, i mainly remember ristar and sonic on the gamegear and silent hill on the psx

bright; mermaids or fairies?both!!!

bubbles; do you have a best friend?@aceiou @gruvu

buttercup; showers or baths?showers, submerging my body freaks me out

butterfly; dream destination?a road trip to visit all my frands

buttons; are you religious or spiritual?spiritual, mainly superstitious

calm; favorite scent?a kind of cologne my dad used to wear

candlelight; what did you dream about last night?my brain reminding me of my deep-seated desire to reconnect with an asshole i used to crush on despite me wanting to bury it for good

charming; have you ever been in love?yes

cozy; eye/hair color?i think the name of my hair color is light ash brown? people confuse me for ginger and blond though somehow

cuddly; what’s your favorite time period?80s/90s, also the aesthetics of the 20s~50s

cupcake; favorite flower/plant?succulents, roses, lilies

cute; what did you get on your last birthday?clothes, something useless from my sister, a panic attack

cutie pie; most precious item you own?baby, my phone, my sketchbook, a paw print from sadie the people that put her to sleep sent us

cutsie; what makes you happy?i’m too numb rn to really know

daisies; describe a moment when you felt free.i think the last time i got to go anywhere with friends and without my mom involved was last summer

daydream; how do you want to be remembered?like my dad, where people try to remember him fondly while ignoring the glaring bad shit about him, hhhH

daylight; favorite album of all time?smoke + mirrors from imagine dragons, in silico from pendulum, no culture from mother mother

dear; zodiac sign?sagittarius on the traditional zodiac, ophiuchus on the updated zodiac, my animal is the rabbit

delightful; concerts or museums?museums, concerts get me overloaded unless it’s a band i really like

dimples; have you ever written a letter?yeah

dobby; dream job?i don’t know anymore

doll; how do you like to dress?comfortably, ideally masculine

dovey; any paranormal/magical experiences?my dad haunts my house

dreams; do you want or have any tattoos?i wanna get either an eye coming out of my shoulder of a shamrock in memory of my dad, something simple and space (and/or wolf) related in white ink, uhhhhmaybe the pokemon league symbol somewhere

drizzle; do you believe in aliens?they’re out there

euphoric; talk about someone you love.ace is adorable!!!! i love them so much, their voice, their face, their fashion, their art, their writing!!!!!!

fairy; do you have a pet?ginger morkie named rusty, i wanna get another lab sometime

fluffy; ocean or mountain?mountain

forever; where do you feel time stop?sitting outside at night when it’s snowy, it’s so quiet and magical feeling

froglet; are you a good plant owner?unfortunately no

garden; how many languages do you know?one, trying to learn german or danish or irish

gem; who are your favorite tumblrs?aceiou, gruvu, bunjywunjy, bogleech, weirdmarioenemies, uuhhhh

giggles; what is your aesthetic of choice?either space or red+black glitch stuff

glittery; do you like anons? why/why not?when they’re nice

glow; list the top 5 things you like about yourselftoo numb for that rn

heart; silk or lace?silk feels nice to touch but i wouldn’t wear either

honey; coffee or tea? how do you take it?coffee, cappuccino mixed w/ hot chocolate and a lot of creamertea, raspberry or peach iced tea

hugsy; do you enjoy people watching or bird watching more? why?birds don’t judge you

hunnybunch; what sounds help you sleep?white noise - the sound of a fan, the sound of rain, etc

jewel; what’s your favorite kind of weather?rain, especially stormy

jiggly; what do you usually like to do on weekends?every day is a weekend. i have no life. i am rotting

joy; do you laugh loudly or giggle more?i wheeze or silently laugh. i used to have an ugly loud laugh

kinky; do you blush easily?i blush when embarrassed or crying

kisses; what romantic cliché do you wish for most?spending every moment loving on the person i’m with, every day being like the first day we met

kitty; what’s your favorite time of the day?sunset to night

ladybug; what’s your favorite artist to listen to when you’re sad?mother mother

love; what is your favorite season and why?autumn. it’s not as depressing as summer

lovey; what is your favorite flavor of macaron and ice cream?i’ve never had macarons, but i love bunny tracks and peanut butter cup and bear creek caramel and

magic; what are five flaws you have?you think i can narrow it down to just five

moonlight; do you prefer soft pastels, warm neutrals, or cool darks?warm pastels, warm neutrals, warm and cool darks

munchkin; what do you look for in your significant other?idk but i got it

paddywack; how would you describe a perfect date?wandering around mainstreet and old town st charles, eating at rt weilers, getting ice cream at riverside sweets, then having sodas from the old soda shoppe, ideally in autumn

pebbles; how do you spend free time by yourself?sleeping, wasting away on the internet, the likes

precious; what is something valuable that you learned in your life?don’t get attached, everything will go bad someday

pretty; do you like to cook or bake more?baking is easier but i feel more in control when cooking

prince; how would you describe your handwriting?horrible, illegible

princess; do you play any instruments? if not, are there any you wish you could play?i used to play the recorder, then the flutei want to learn the guitar but i’m so bad at it that when trying to tune a very expensive guitar i got as a gift when i still had passion for it i broke a string

prinky; how do you relieve stress?i don’t

pumpkin; what is your favourite kind of fruit/vegetable?strawberries, raspberries, bananas, pomegranates, pickles, broccoli, tomatoes, pumpkins

rainbow; what was the last line of the last book you read?i can’t focus on reading anymore

roses; what is the most significant event in your life so far?my dad’s death.

smile; what is one thing that has greatly affected you?my dad’s death.

shine; art or music?i’m not good enough at art to deserve picking it, and i’m an audiophile (not! a! fetish!), so

shimmer; do animals tend to like you?i get too rough without realizing it. rusty probably doesn’t like me. he just licks me and sleeps by me whenever he doesn’t have my mom to love on.

smitten; do you collect anything?bottle caps, can tabs, pokemon merch, empty pill bottles

smoochies; how many pillows do you sleep with?four at the head of my bed (two go unused), one plain blue body pillow to hold, like five other pillows to add pressure to my legs

snuggle; what is your favourite candy?peppermint kisses

snuggly; do you have a camera? if so, what kind?phone

sparkle; do you wear jewelry?i used to wear necklaces all the time. they all break because of how i stim with them. my mom doesn’t trust anything around my neck anymore

spooky; sunrise or sunset?sunset

sprinkles; do you like to listen to music with headphones or no headphones?headphones

starlight; what was your favourite show as a child?crashbox, digimon, power rangers, pokemon, total drama

soft; describe your favourite spot in your house.my room.

soothe; digital or vinyl?digital

squeezed; who do you miss right now?read over some of the questions and ask me again

sugary; what traits do you value most in friends?can i trust you

sunshine; do you prefer for things to be practical or aesthetically pleasing?both

sweet; do you find it easy to open up?too easy

sweetie; do you like kids? if so, do you ever want to have any?they are sensory nightmares

thimble; is there somebody you look up to? who are they?edd gould is dead

toot; what is something you find unique about yourself?my ability to get completely numb over the dumbest bullshit

tootsie; what kind of friend are you?a bad one

treasure; what was something that made you smile today?nothing so far

velvet; are you an early bird or a night owl?night owl

whiffle; if you could have a magical power, what would it be?shapeshifting or invisibility or mind reading

whimsical; do you prefer doing stuff at home or going out?ideally i wanna go out but only if i trust whoever i’m with to understand that i burn out fast anymore

whiskers; do you usually wear makeup?no

wiggly; are you a messy or tidy person?i obsessively organize things but am very messy

wispy; do you like the place where you grew up? do you think you will live there when you get older?i have no choice, i legally own the house i’m in now. i can’t go anywhere without dragging my mom along. i’m trapped

wobbly; have you ever wished upon a star?i wish to have good birthdays. they never come true

#anon #answered

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mydarlingfilm · 3 years

Text

TIME DOESN’T HEAL

This is going to be a very long post and I would love to read it over and over again. It was painful and timeless at the same time. This conversation is hold between an Rolling stone and Pk.

In her first-ever in-depth interview, Michael Jackson's daughter discusses her father's pain and finding peace after addiction and heartache

Paris-Michael Katherine Jackson is staring at a famous corpse. "That's Marilyn Monroe," she whispers, facing a wall covered with gruesome autopsy photos. "And that's JFK. You can't even find these online." On a Thursday afternoon in late November, Paris is making her way through the Museum of Death, a cramped maze of formaldehyde-scented horrors on Hollywood Boulevard. It's not uncommon for visitors, confronted with decapitation photos, snuff films and serial-killer memorabilia, to faint, vomit or both. But Paris, not far removed from the emo and goth phases of her earlier teens, seems to find it all somehow soothing. This is her ninth visit. "It's awesome," she had said on the way over. "They have a real electric chair and a real head!"

Paris Jackson turned 18 last April, and moment by moment, can come across as much older or much younger, having lived a life that's veered between sheltered and agonizingly exposed. She is a pure child of the 21st century, with her mashed-up hippie-punk fashion sense (today she's wearing a tie-dye button-down, jeggings and Converse high-tops) and boundary-free musical tastes (she's decorated her sneakers with lyrics by Mötley Crüe and Arctic Monkeys; is obsessed with Alice Cooper – she calls him "bae" – and the singer-songwriter Butch Walker; loves Nirvana and Justin Bieber too). But she is, even more so, her father's child. "Basically, as a person, she is who my dad is," says her older brother, Prince Michael Jackson. "The only thing that's different would be her age and her gender." Paris is similar to Michael, he adds, "in all of her strengths, and almost all of her weaknesses as well. She's very passionate. She is very emotional to the point where she can let emotion cloud her judgment."

Paris has, with impressive speed, acquired more than 50 tattoos, sneaking in the first few while underage. Nine of them are devoted to Michael Jackson, who died when she was 11 years old, sending her, Prince and their youngest brother, Blanket, spiraling out of what had been – as they perceived it – a cloistered, near-idyllic little world. "They always say, 'Time heals,'" she says. "But it really doesn't. You just get used to it. I live life with the mentality of 'OK, I lost the only thing that has ever been important to me.' So going forward, anything bad that happens can't be nearly as bad as what happened before. So I can handle it." Michael still visits her in her dreams, she says: "I feel him with me all the time."

Michael, who saw himself as Peter Pan, liked to call his only daughter Tinker Bell. She has FAITH, TRUST AND PIXIE DUST inked near her clavicle. She has an image from the cover of Dangerous on her forearm, the Bad logo on her hand, and the words QUEEN OF MY HEART – in her dad's handwriting, from a letter he wrote her – on her inner left wrist. "He's brought me nothing but joy," she says. "So why not have constant reminders of joy?"

She fixes her huge blue-green eyes on each of the museum's attractions without flinching, until she comes to a section of taxidermied pets. "I don't really like this room," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I draw the line with animals. I can't do it. This breaks my heart." She recently rescued a hyperactive pit-bull-mix puppy, Koa, who has an uneasy coexistence with Kenya, a snuggly Labrador her dad brought home a decade ago.

Paris describes herself as "desensitized" to even the most graphic reminders of human mortality. In June 2013, drowning in depression and a drug addiction, she tried to kill herself at age 15, slashing her wrist and downing 20 Motrin pills. "It was just self-hatred," she says, "low self-esteem, thinking that I couldn't do anything right, not thinking I was worthy of living anymore." She had been self-harming, cutting herself, managing to conceal it from her family. Some of her tattoos now cover the scars, as well as what she says are track marks from drug use. Before that, she had already attempted suicide "multiple times," she says, with an incongruous laugh. "It was just once that it became public." The hospital had a "three-strike rule," she recalls, and, after that last attempt, insisted she attend a residential therapy program.

Home-schooled before her father's death, Paris had agreed to attend a private school starting in seventh grade. She didn't fit in – at all – and started hanging out with the only kids who accepted her, "a lot of older people doing a lot of crazy things," she says. "I was doing a lot of things that 13-, 14-, 15-year-olds shouldn't do. I tried to grow up too fast, and I wasn't really that nice of a person." She also faced cyberbullying, and still struggles with cruel online comments. "The whole freedom-of-speech thing is great," she says. "But I don't think that our Founding Fathers predicted social media when they created all of these amendments and stuff."

There was another trauma that she's never mentioned in public. When she was 14, a much older "complete stranger" sexually assaulted her, she says. "I don't wanna give too many details. But it was not a good experience at all, and it was really hard for me, and, at the time, I didn't tell anybody."

After her last suicide attempt, she spent sophomore year and half of junior year at a therapeutic school in Utah. "It was great for me," she says. "I'm a completely different person." Before, she says with a small smile, "I was crazy. I was actually crazy. I was going through a lot of, like, teen angst. And I was also dealing with my depression and my anxiety without any help." Her father, she says, also struggled with depression, and she was prescribed the same antidepressants he once took, though she's no longer on any psych meds.

Now sober and happier than she's ever been, with menthol cigarettes her main remaining vice, Paris moved out of her grandma Katherine's house shortly after her 18th birthday, heading to the old Jackson family estate. She spends nearly every minute of each day with her boyfriend, Michael Snoddy, a 26-year-old drummer – he plays with the percussion ensemble Street Drum Corps – and Virginia native whose dyed mohawk, tattoos and perpetually sagging pants don't obscure boy-band looks and a puppy-dog sweetness. "I never met anyone before who made me feel the way music makes me feel," says Paris. When they met, he had an ill-considered, now-covered Confederate flag tattoo that raised understandable doubts among the Jacksons. "But the more I actually got to know him," says Prince, "he's a really cool guy."

Paris took a quick stab at community college after graduating high school – a year early – in 2015, but wasn't feeling it. She is an heir to a mammoth fortune – the Michael Jackson Family Trust is likely worth more than $1 billion, with disbursements to the kids in stages. But she wants to earn her own money, and now that she's a legal adult, to embrace her other inheritance: celebrity.

And in the end, as the charismatic, beautiful daughter of one of the most famous men who ever lived, what choice did she have? She is, for now, a model, an actress, a work in progress. She can, when she feels like it, exhibit a regal poise that's almost intimidating, while remaining chill enough to become pals with her giant-goateed tattoo artist. She has impeccable manners – you might guess that she was raised well. She so charmed producer-director Lee Daniels in a recent meeting that he's begun talking to her manager about a role for her on his Fox show, Star . She plays a few instruments, writes and sings songs (she performs a couple for me on acoustic guitar, and they show promise, though they're more Laura Marling than MJ), but isn't sure if she'll ever pursue a recording contract.

Modeling, in particular, comes naturally, and she finds it therapeutic. "I've had self-esteem issues for a really, really long time," says Paris, who understands her dad's plastic-surgery choices after watching online trolls dissect her appearance since she was 12. "Plenty of people think I'm ugly, and plenty of people don't. But there's a moment when I'm modeling where I forget about my self-esteem issues and focus on what the photographer's telling me – and I feel pretty. And in that sense, it's selfish."

But mostly, she shares her father's heal-the-world impulses ("I'm really scared for the Great Barrier Reef," she says. "It's, like, dying. This whole planet is. Poor Earth, man"), and sees fame as a means to draw attention to favored causes. "I was born with this platform," she says. "Am I gonna waste it and hide away? Or am I going to make it bigger and use it for more important things?"

Her dad wouldn't have minded. "If you wanna be bigger than me, you can," he'd tell her. "If you don't want to be at all, you can. But I just want you to be happy."

At the moment, Paris lives in the private studio where her dad demoed "Beat It." The Tudor-style main house in the now-empty Jackson family compound in the LA neighborhood of Encino – purchased by Joe Jackson in 1971 with some of the Jackson 5's first Motown royalties, and rebuilt by Michael in the Eighties – is under renovation. But the studio, built by Michael in a brick building across the courtyard, happens to be roughly the size of a decent Manhattan apartment, with its own kitchen and bathroom. Paris has turned it into a vibe-y, cozy dorm room.

Traces of her father are everywhere, most unmistakably in the artwork he commissioned. Outside the studio is a framed picture, done in a Disney-like style, of a cartoon castle on a hilltop with a caricatured Michael in the foreground, a small blond boy embracing him.It's captioned "Of Children, Castles & Kings." Inside is a mural taking up an entire wall, with another cartoon Michael in the corner, holding a green book titled The Secret of Life and looking down from a window at blooming flowers – at the center of each bloom is a cartoon face of a red-cheeked little girl.

Above an adjacent garage is a mini-museum Michael created as a surprise gift for his family, with the walls and even ceilings covered with photos from their history. Michael used to rehearse dance moves in that room; now Paris' boyfriend has his drum kit set up there.

We head out to a nearby sushi restaurant, and Paris starts to describe life in Neverland. She spent her first seven years in her dad's 2,700-acre fantasy world, with its own amusement park, zoo and movie theater. ("Everything I never got to do as a kid," Michael called it.) During that time, she didn't know that her father's name was Michael, let alone have any grasp of his fame. "I just thought his name was Dad, Daddy," she says. "We didn't really know who he was. But he was our world. And we were his world." (Paris declared last year's Captain Fantastic , where Viggo Mortensen plays an eccentric dad who tries to create a utopian hideaway for his kids, her "favorite movie ever.")

We couldn't just go on the rides whenever we wanted to," she recalls, walking on a dark roadside near the Encino compound. She likes to stride along the lane divider, too close to the cars – it drives her boyfriend crazy, and I don't much like it either. "We actually had a pretty normal life. Like, we had school every single day, and we had to be good. And if we were good, every other weekend or so, we could choose whether we were gonna go to the movie theater or see the animals or whatever. But if you were on bad behavior, then you wouldn't get to go do all those things."

In his 2011 memoir, Michael's brother Jermaine called him "an example of what fatherhood should be. He instilled in them the love Mother gave us, and he provided the kind of emotional fathering that our father, through no fault of his own, could not. Michael was father and mother rolled into one."

Michael gave the kids the option of going to regular school. They declined. "When you're at home," says Paris, "your dad, who you love more than anything, will occasionally come in, in the middle of class, and it's like, 'Cool, no more class for the day. We're gonna go hang out with Dad.' We were like, 'We don't need friends. We've got you and Disney Channel!'" She was, she acknowledges, "a really weird kid."

Her dad taught her how to cook, soul food, mostly. "He was a kick-ass cook," she says. "His fried chicken is the best in the world. He taught me how to make sweet potato pie." Paris is baking four pies, plus gumbo, for grandma Katherine's Thanksgiving – which actually takes place the day before the holiday, in deference to Katherine's Jehovah's Witness beliefs.

Michael schooled Paris on every conceivable genre of music. "My dad worked with Van Halen, so I got into Van Halen," she says."He worked with Slash, so I got into Guns N' Roses. He introduced me to Tchaikovsky and Debussy, Earth, Wind and Fire, the Temptations, Tupac, Run-DMC."

"His number-one focus for us," says Paris, "besides loving us, was education. And he wasn't like, 'Oh, yeah, mighty Columbus came to this land!' He was like, 'No. He fucking slaughtered the natives.'" Would he really phrase it that way? "He did have kind of a potty mouth. He cussed like a sailor." But he was also "very shy."

Paris and Prince are quite aware of public doubts about their parentage (the youngest brother, Blanket, with his darker skin, is the subject of less speculation). Paris' mom is Debbie Rowe, a nurse Michael met while she was working for his dermatologist, the late Arnold Klein. They had what sounds like an unconventional three-year marriage, during which, Rowe once testified, they never shared a home. Michael said that Rowe wanted to have his children "as a present" to him. (Rowe said that Paris got her name from the location of her conception.) Klein, her employer, was one of several men – including the actor Mark Lester, who played the title role in the 1968 movie Oliver! – who suggested that they could be Paris' actual biological father.

Over popcorn shrimp and a Clean Mean Salmon Roll, Paris agrees to address this issue for what she says will be the only time. She could opt for an easy, logical answer, could point out that it doesn't matter, that either way, Michael Jackson was her father. That's what her brother – who describes himself as "more objective" than Paris – seems to suggest. "Every time someone asks me that," Prince says, "I ask, 'What's the point? What difference does it make?' Specifically to someone who's not involved in my life. How does that affect your life? It doesn't change mine."

But Paris is certain that Michael Jackson was her biological dad. She believes it with a fervency that is both touching and, in the moment, utterly convincing. "He is my father," she says, making fierce eye contact. "He will always be my father. He never wasn't, and he never will not be. People that knew him really well say they see him in me, that it's almost scary.

"I consider myself black," she says, adding later that her dad "would look me in the eyes and he'd point his finger at me and he'd be like, 'You're black. Be proud of your roots.' And I'd be like, 'OK, he's my dad, why would he lie to me?' So I just believe what he told me. 'Cause, to my knowledge, he's never lied to me.

"Most people that don't know me call me white," Paris concedes. "I've got light skin and, especially since I've had my hair blond, I look like I was born in Finland or something." She points out that it's far from unheard of for mixed-race kids to look like her – accurately noting that her complexion and eye color are similar to the TV actor Wentworth Miller's, who has a black dad and a white mom.

At first, she had no relationship with Rowe. "When I was really, really young, my mom didn't exist," Paris recalls. Eventually, she realized "a man can't birth a child" – and when she was 10 or so, she asked Prince, "We gotta have a mom, right?" So she asked her dad. "And he's like, 'Yeah.' And I was like, 'What's her name?' And he's just like, 'Debbie.' And I was like, 'OK, well, I know the name.'" After her father's death, she started researching her mom online, and they got together when Paris was 13.

In the wake of her treatment in Utah, Paris decided to reach out again to Rowe. "She needed a mother figure," says Prince, who declines to comment on his own relationship, or lack thereof, with Rowe. (Paris' manager declined to make Rowe available for an interview, and Rowe did not respond to our request for comment.) "I've had a lot of mother figures," Paris counters, citing her grandmother and nannies, among others, "but by the time my mom came into my life, it wasn't a 'mommy' thing. It's more of an adult relationship." Paris sees herself in Rowe, who just completed a course of chemo in a fight against breast cancer: "We're both very stubborn."

Paris Jackson was around nine years old when she realized that much of the world didn't see her father the way she did. "My dad would cry to me at night," she says, sitting at the counter of a New York coffee shop in mid-December, cradling a tiny spoon in her hand. She starts to cry too. "Picture your parent crying to you about the world hating him for something he didn't do. And for me, he was the only thing that mattered. To see my entire world in pain, I started to hate the world because of what they were doing to him. I'm like, 'How can people be so mean?'" She pauses. "Sorry, I'm getting emotional."

Paris and Prince have no doubts that their father was innocent of the multiple child-molestation allegations against him, that the man they knew was the real Michael. Again, they are persuasive – if they could go door-to-door talking about it, they could sway the world."Nobody but my brothers and I experienced him reading A Light in the Attic to us at night before we went to bed," says Paris."Nobody experienced him being a father to them. And if they did, the entire perception of him would be completely and forever changed." I gently suggest that what Michael said to her on those nights was a lot to put on a nine-year-old. "He did not bullshit us," she replies. "You try to give kids the best childhood possible. But you also have to prepare them for the shitty world."

Michael's 2005 molestation trial ended in an acquittal, but it shattered his reputation and altered the course of his family's lives. He decided to leave Neverland for good. They spent the next four years traveling the world, spending long stretches of time in the Irish countryside, in Bahrain, in Las Vegas. Paris didn't mind – it was exciting, and home was where her dad was.

By 2009, Michael was preparing for an ambitious slate of comeback performances at London's O2 Arena. "He kind of hyped it up to us," recalls Paris. "He was like, 'Yeah, we're gonna live in London for a year.' We were super-excited – we already had a house out there we were gonna live in." But Paris remembers his "exhaustion" as rehearsals began. "I'd tell him, 'Let's take a nap,'" she says."Because he looked tired. We'd be in school, meaning downstairs in the living room, and we'd see dust falling from the ceiling and hear stomping sounds because he was rehearsing upstairs."

Paris has a lingering distaste for AEG Live, the promoters behind the planned This Is It tour – her family lost a wrongful-death suit against them, with the jury accepting AEG's argument that Michael was responsible for his own death. "AEG Live does not treat their performers right," she alleges. "They drain them dry and work them to death." (A rep for AEG declined comment.) She describes seeing Justin Bieber on a recent tour and being "scared" for him. "He was tired, going through the motions. I looked at my ticket, saw AEG Live, and I thought back to how my dad was exhausted all the time but couldn't sleep."

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