#and i cant have any of those things right now which is FINE ultimately today was just an unusually shitty day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ringmyheart · 3 years

Note

Can I request Vin Jin boyfriend headcanons and some fluff? (You don't have to force yourself)

(This and the other vin jin rq were merged!)

Honestly the way I see it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a very calm person or outgoing person. No matter what this relationship is gonna end up being considerably chaotic

He ropes you into everything he does. Doesn’t matter if u r a design student or an architecture student or if ur on the opposite side of the school from him, u r practically in his class. Dating him is like signing a contract sealing away ur own life bc he makes it a point to be ALWAYS w u

In class he doesn’t gaf if the teacher has ur seat on the other end of class, he is somehow finding a way to sit next to u against ur will or not. And when the teacher moves u two away from eachother INTENTIONALLY bc of this, he is threatening whoever happened to sit next to u to trade seats w him. He will go as far as to dress up as them to make it look like they’re them to be next to u and he’s so dramatic ab it.... being away from u felt like u were star crossed lovers whom the world was fiercely against

And if UR against this cuz ur tired of getting in trouble in class, or if you reject any of his advances, he’s gonna be really, really, really offended. He will at first sputter and be kinda shy and embarrassed about it, before he goes “fine! Have fun on your own without me, the greatest thing in your fucking life!”

He move seats back and will glare at you periodically every five minutes to pavlov dog you so that every five minutes every day, even when he’s not there, you feel the burning stare of vin jin

If you’re his s/o, he’ll buy you a matching pair of sunglasses so ur the freshest looking couple around Seoul (they’re hideous and thick but he thinks u look fly)

The glasses don’t have nearly as many layers as his does for himself so u can see, and u wonder how he managed to make them just as bulky and if he did it on purpose to sabotage u. Like “did u make my glasses purposefully ugly so no one else will want me?”

U have to dodge a punch after saying anything like that ab his fashion decisions LMAOAO

He’s rlly proud of u two matching. With the glasses and anything in general. He’ll make you wear a jacket matching his, or the same shoes and he will stop people in the hall and be like “wait. Notice anything cool ab us today?? Cooler than normal??”

And when they don’t respond he boasts “that’s right!! Me and my other half r matching. Look at us and weep, losers.” He thinks u two look so good....... if ur enthusiastic ab wearing matching things too he is elated u have to pray that tomorrow he won’t show up w another “if lost return to Vin Jin” “I’m Vin Jin” pair of jackets or anything of the like bc it happens SO OFTEN

And on the topic of sharing when it’s cold he likes to share jackets and blankets w u. Ur desks r moved by eachother by vin jin himself and u two share one blanket over u and shiver bc he just likes it, sharing w u plus he’s slightly warmer. And yes if you guys had indivizual blankets you would be warmer, but u guys have to struggle together he doesn’t care what anyone says (yes even ur protests ur sharing that one blanket wether he has to wrap it around u himself and tear up the one u brought on ur own or what”

He is so blind in love that he cannot tell when u guys suck at stuff. Like if ur in the wrong he doesnt care ur RIGHT and he’s taking that to the grave. He can belittle u and call u out but if someone else says ur in the wrong it’s on sight

Will die protecting ur name even when ur the one who was genuinely wrong

He forces u to make a beat for him to rap to. He loves rapping and wants to enjoy it w u, so ur forcefed YouTube videos of how to beatbox so u can be his bgm and eventually u probably just start to enjoy it to

And u always start a beat and he starts busting out rhymes and it’s SO BAD. It doesn’t matter if ur good at beatboxing if vin Jin is on the track w u it’s gonna sound terrible he brings the quality down immensely but u two just cannot tell

Like after a two session ur like “omg... that was so good. We should go pro?” “Fuck yea we should we’re better than those posers” “we could rlly make it in the industry fr” no u absolutely could not

During the school festival, u sang with him and it was SO bad. Half the crowd is gonna have 2 be hospitalized but u two had FUN up on the stage

Like I said, he has absolute faith in u. All u do is right. If ur driving a car for the first time, he is going to be ur little hype man doesn’t matter if u suck. U hit a curb and he went “YES babe!! Ur killing it cant wait till u hit the road bby” Ur not allowed to touch a car for the next two years now bc he kept cheering u on when u we’re doing CLEARLY wrong things

On a plane u r looking for the bathroom like pensively and u see a handle and look back and r like “is this it???” And vin jin thinking u r all righteous will go “yea babe go for it” and u open it and u depressurizate the cabin immediately

Now both on like 5 no fly lists

He loves to do things with u, like I mentioned earlier, and things he wouldn’t do alone he’ll do w u. Like drawing alone?? Boring. Drawing w Y/N??!!! Who knows what could happen..... so much fun could ensue. Maybe he will draw u cutely. Maybe he will draw u so ugly u will be forced to engage in a fight.

He likes to play just dance w u and compete for the “greats/all star!” Little titles above, and it becomes like a Friday night ritual for u two to turn just dance on and just go at it. But sometimes he’ll get too intense and suddenly he’s actually fighting for the chance to beat u. Will trip u so u lose on purpose

He makes u listen to him sing and rap to u. And u try to leave and he hugs tightly and is like LISTEN IFS FOR U, DONT BE UNGRATEFUL and now u have to listen

He makes u a mixtape of songs he made himself and they are all considerably worse than “remember the times we had”. It’s uploaded on SoundCloud and all the comments r hate and u listen to it a lot bc u know he loves u sm he made u a mixtape ya ur gonna play that but everyone else hates it w a passion

Like the comments r like:

Daniel: well.... it’s definitely a song 😅 I’m glad you love (y/n) so much!

Duke: he’s not making it out the hood 😐

Zach: never let this man in a studio AGAIN

Mary: this should’ve stayed in the CD

(Y/N): love it! 😍

Zoe: kill your producer 💀

Mira: ...

He’s overprotective too

If someone looks at u for more than a second he’ll go “what?? U think she is hot, huh? I’ll kick ur ass fucking perv.... cmon babe let’s go”

Will throw his arm around u and streer u the opposite way of any potentially good looking ppl to keep ur eyes on him

Oh Daniel is coming?? What a coincidence u and vin Jin suddenly have to turn the corner to the other way of ur classroom for some reason

Eli is near?!!! Oh no u just got milk spilt in ur eye!! Oh no now he has to wipe ur eyes and u two have to leave the cafeteria whatever will he do

It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in u, he doesn’t have faith in other men. Like he thinks they r all competition, and doesn’t doubt ur loyalty rather doubts how good he can b for u

WILL beat someone up for u. If someone smokes while ur around suddenly his fists r swinging at them cuz even if u smoke or vape urself no one else can get that stuff in ur lungs but YOU or HIM!!

If ur crossing the street and a car almost hits u, it’s the cars fault and he’s kicking the license plate and cursing it out for almost touching u “stupid fucking piece of metal”

Is the type of boyfriend to call u when he knows ur in an Uber and be like “babe u got ur gun w u right?? Oh don’t forget ur BOMB and ur MACHETE!! Yeah just left the house I killed some ppl nbd haha anyways HRU what’s ur Uber driver like” so the driver of ur car won’t even think ab kidnapping u. He has got ur back even when u do not want it

He doesn’t want u to see his eyes, so he’ll tell you to look away so he can take his glasses off and look at u in full color in all ur glory but he never tells u WHY he’s telling u to look away u think it’s a weird thing of his, or he’s insecure ab his face which is partially true but really he’s taking his glasses off and just looking at u. Adoringly.....

He hates PDA. He loves PDA. Do u see his dilemma

Like he loves PDA but doesn’t want anyone seeing him vulnerable even u.... so he’ll hold ur hand and be like “EWWW WHAT R U DOING GET YR HAND OFF MINE”

If u take the lead THATS best bc he can blame it on u and it’s ur fault he HAS to lock fingers w u cuz u did it to him first and he has an excuse to touch u and v like u started this im just sending u ur own energy back 😤

The type to be just like blind, overwhelmed in love. Always thinks ab u, always wants to be w u, worries ab u a lot and frets over u without showing it.... he hates it and loves it to death. Despises it but wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world

Eats lunch w u in the cafeteria and if u sit w someone else u r the ultimate traitor and he will trash talk u to hide his hurt to Mary the entire lunchtime. Kinda possessive.... wants u to also only think about him

WOULDNT EVER fight u for real. Play fights occur VERY often, like pillow fights, tripping ur foot when u say a joke insulting him, grabbing ur collar but he would sooner die than lay a finger on u

Verbal fights happen a lot and if he ever like LOSES it he may lash out and almost hit u and follow thru. I don’t think he’d be able to catch himself that quickly, and if he ever did he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Literally until the day dies he will take it to his grave

He may not sputter out apologieswill just look at u incredulously and then at his hands because what had he done? What did he just do? To you???????? (Y/n))))?????? His (y/n)??? Light of his life?

Will apologize probably over text or through a note or call, and if u don’t respond he is consumed by regret and tries to find u instantly like runs back to ur place

If u forgive him he feels bad still, because does he deserve it? And he might just isolate himself for a bit bc he can’t face u and if it left a scar he is dead inside. It kills him, literally

I could go on w this but I’ll probably save it for another separate pair of hcs later 😭

If u guys ever break up he will fight for u again and won’t stop till ur back together like flowers in ur locker every day, chocolate give during lunch, etc. He wont ever give up hope that he can win u over again and be w u again. He would keep trying, when he wakes up his first thought is ur name in a cold panic bc he can’t rest easy till ur his again and he will try and show off and poorly serenade u and trash his price and be corny and cheesy to get u back

Will set up a performance w the school to let him rap w a mic during lunch for u and he’s saying bars like “(read in bad rapping voice w inconsistent beat) (y/n), love of my life, uh, without you I’d die, uh. Please won’t you take me back? Yuh, without you ima have a heart attack. (Wha!). (Y/n), love of my life, yeah, without you I’m in strife, yup! Please be mine again, (babe), I can never rest till then.”

If the embarrassment doesn’t make u take him back so he’ll pls stop, and when he stands up on the lunch tables to do a little performance doesn’t do it either, then the odd sincerity of his voice and pain in his look (even tho while rapping he sticks out his lower lip in a weird pout) definitely, hopefully will

U make everything worth it !! Truly the light of his life

I hope these were what u wanted, I just had fun w them and wrote stuff that came off the top of my head when I thought of VJ!! ❤️

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

(don’t go) making something out of nothing, Part 2

Prologue | i. the first woman he ever loved

Yet another piece of @infinitelystrangemachinex‘s run away birthday fic; many thanks to @bubblesthemonsterartist and @claudeng80 for beta’ing this chapter!

ii. the first to make his heart race

When all his mistakes are immortalized for posterity by one of those nosy little court historians, Zakura would like the record to show: the pharmacist isn’t his type.

She’s too tall for one; in her boots she stares him straight in the mouth. Her own quirks with that smug smile of hers, like it’s funny how unimpressive he isn’t. Too old too; at least five years on him, and the kind of person to lord it over a man all his days. Her hair frizzes, blonde kinks that he finds in his mouth, despite keeping his distance, and her face, nice as it is, tends more towards handsome than pretty. Strong; that’s what Her Majesty would say, if she were here.

And she’s got opinions to match.

“You’re heading up to Wirant, Highness?” she asks, glancing over her notes. His Prickishness is buttoning up his shirt, the pale porcelain of his doll-face uncharacteristically pink.

His stomach is clenched too, trying to make ridges where there’s only smooth boy-belly. By the cant of this woman’s mouth, she knows it.

“Yes. To visit my mother.” His Highness doesn’t grimace, but boy, does it look like he wishes he could. “For solstice. It’s an...event up there.”

“Oh, I know.” This time her big mouth spreads into a grin. Friendly, but not friendly. “I trained up there.”

The prince’s eyebrows raise, but only a seemly amount.The little bastard already knows. Clever. “At Lilias?”

Gazeld settles back into her hips, arms folding right under her chest. Doesn’t do her any favors, either. “Good guess.”

“It’s the finest institution in the country,” the kid says, with the kind of confidence belong to a much older man much-- one who could actually grow a beard. “With your skills, it would only make sense that you were an alumna of its hallowed halls.”

So this is how the other half flirts. Standards must be lower when the man could buy and sell countries with a blink. “I reckon you have places to be Your Highness. Documents to sign, plots to foil, that sort of thing.”

The prince turns to him, face utterly blank. With a year on the job, he knows it for the scowl it is. “Sir Zakura, I’m sure that--”

“No, no, don’t stay on my account.” Gazeld waves a hand, too amused. “I was only going to ask-- have room in your carriage for one more?”

“Has it been long since you’ve been north?” The prince crosses his legs, and gods, it’s like sharing a cab with a spider with how much of it he manages to take up. The kid’s barely seventeen.

“Who, me?” Zakura presses a hand to his jacket, buttons scraping at his palm. “Why, I’ve hardly even left--”

“I meant--” His Highness’s mouth sets thin as a blade beneath his nose-- “Mistress Gazeld.”

She darts a glance at him, like they’re somehow in on this joke together. “A handful of years, give or take. I keep up with a few friends.”

“I see.”

His Highness has an array of masks, each one with the proper expression for an empty-headed prince to wear in every circumstance, but now-- now his face twitches, as if he’s not quite sure which one he means to make. Zakura smothers a grin. Watching this jackass struggle to be human is a rare pleasure in this shithole of an assignment.

He settles, ultimately, on an inquisitive smile. “Is that who you are visiting?”

It doesn’t take a chessmaster to fill in what he won’t ask: for this solstice? And it certainly doesn’t take one to hear the thin thread of jealousy wound ‘round his words like a spindle, as if a woman Gazeld’s age would waste a strings-free kiss on a boy hardly old enough to find his ass with both hands, let alone his prick.

It’s almost enough to make Zakura pity him. Or at least, it would be if the kid wasn’t in the position to force the issue, should the mood strike him.

“Mm.” Gazeld watches him with interest-- not the kind a woman has for a man, but what a scholar has for a book unread. “Them, and your mother as well. Thought I might see if I can’t help with her castle allergy.”

Every inch of His Highness stiffens, and-- and Zakura’s seen all of his thirteen fake smiles, every single one of his twenty-seven princely masks but this, this studiously blank face is new. He doesn’t like it, not one bit.

“I see,” the prince says, like he’s talking around a mouth of glass. “Intriguing.”

It’s only his second solstice, but it’s already head and shoulders better than the first.

Zakura had heard that Wirant put out a good party-- not much else to do up here in the ass end of nowhere but throw an endless parade of soirees when the occasion called for it, really-- but he hasn’t seen it. Not with the country in the throes of mourning, and a queen with no use for laughter.

But this year; oh, this year-- there was no moratorium on merriment.

“You’re late,” grunts one of Arleon’s guards, a gruff little bulldog of a man. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you in.”

Zakura sighs, the guard at his back shifting, uncertain. A new recruit then, if he doesn’t know this old gem. “I’m a knight, Jirou. I arrive fashionably late.”

He wouldn’t have, if the royal prick hadn’t sent him out to do busywork; two weeks here, and today of all days is the one where the posts must be inspected. Not that the prince had deigned to come along, oh no-- he’d been snug here at the castle, primping, while he froze his tits off with the ugly sons of bitches Arleon sent out into the hinterlands.

Jirou grunts, the closest he comes to laugh without a few drinks in him, and the rookie eases. “Nothin’ about you that’s fashionable.”

He smooths a hand over the glittering buttons of his coat. “I’ll have you know, this is the very latest out of Wistal.”

“Hah.” The man leans back, taking him in. “You can put silk on a pig, but it don’t make it a princess. Sir.”

Zakura grins. “With that attitude, you’ll never make it pass Sargent.”

“Fine by me.”

Zakura could believe it; there are some men that are meant to be captains, to be leaders of men, but some-- some are born to sit just to the left of power, wryly reminding them of when they weren’t too big for their britches. Jirou’s one of them.

“Anything I should know going in there?” He rolls his shoulders, trying to get the mantle of knighthood to sit as easily on him as it does to the smug pricks born to it.

Jirou blinks. “Like what, sir?”

“Any trouble? People who have a habit of having a little too much and causing a ruckus?” He lets his mouth stretch into a leer. “Any pretty girls who might need a kiss come midnight?”

The guardsman scowls. “You’ve never had trouble finding any of those.”

Zakura’s not sure he’d be saying that if he knew who had been his partner last year. He grins anyway; he’s got a reputation to keep, after all. “Well, I’m short on time tonight.”

Jirou’s mouth twitches. “Better hurry up, then.”

He casts a worried glance into the hall. “There’s a lot of people.”

“It’s an auspicious year, sir.” Jirou’s grin says he’s enjoying this far too much. “Not one to miss.”

He blinks, brows raising as the man escorts him into the ballroom. “Why’s that?”

The guard tilts his chin toward a window. “Full moon. Happens once every twenty years, or summat. Some say it’s a blessing on the prince’s reign to come.”

Zakura hums. “Is that what you think, Jirou?”

“Hah. Me, sir?” He shrugs in the way men do when they don’t agree but like sleeping in their bed. Rumor had it he’d been married earlier this year. “I don’t know about all that. Work around too many of them scholars, you know? On their word, the heavens run like clockwork, and that’s good enough for me.”

Zakura claps him on the back. “Good man. Glad to see someone can keep their head about them.”

He moves past him, toward the glittering press beyond the archway, but--

“There’s another thing, sir.”

He cranes his chin just over his shoulder, and there it is again, that self-satisfied shine to Jirou’s eyes. “About the moon. They say whoever you kiss on a full solstice moon, you’ll kiss every one after.”

A grimace tugs at his mouth, stretching it thin. “I’ll keep my lips to myself then.”

Zakura means to keep that promise, he really does-- he may not put any stock in the sort of folktales they spread up here, closed in by the cold and the mountains, but the last thing he needs is to kiss a girl that does. He’s no prize catch in a court that boasts marquis and dukes among them, but here, where lords scrabble to hold onto counties and baronies, any man with a title is good enough. And if there is one thing he’s not looking for, it’s a wife. Especially a northern one.

He makes it two steps.

“Sir Zakura.” A clutch of pretty young debutantes crowd him, fluttering fans and eyelashes. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Now there’s a question for the scholars: what if he’s kissing more than one girl at midnight? He’s got only a few minutes, after all, and if this whole thing is as fatefully binding as Jirou warned him, well, it’d be prudent to hedge his bets--

“Oh!” One of them turns, gaze slipping over his shoulder. “Is that the prince?”

The whole flock of them twists around to look, fans flapping faster. Zakura grits his teeth, and yeah, there the little prick is, strolling into this humble fete without a care in the world, Arleon’s youngest trailing behind him. He should have known; stories might talk of oysters or ambrosia, but there was no more potent aphrodisiac than a title. And oh, here was this pretty boy with the most arousing one.

Forgotten now that there is better quarry, Zakura slips back into the shadows. He’s used to this, watching that slippery bastard of a prince have everything handed to him on a platter, only to say he doesn’t like the taste. Even now his eyes are roving over the room, never resting, for all the world seeming like he’s searching--

Until he stops, short enough that the lords trailing in his wake nearly trip over him, his gaze fixed to the other end of the room. Zakura follows it, right down into the warren of drunken cardsharps play games with rules far too arcane for a simple man like him, and--

Ah, there she is. The pharmacist. He should have known.

She’s the only lady here tonight that’s not dressed to the nines, hoping to catch a convenient kiss. Instead, she’s wrapped up in Lilias blues & whites, the only formal wear most of those scholars own. His gaze drops further, and by every god, old and new, she’s wearing trousers beneath her tunic and cloak.

He’s got to bite his cheek looking at her, else he’ll laugh himself sick. This His Prickishness could have all the prettiest, glittering cunts in the world, but this is the one he wants to sink himself in.

Or at least, that’s what any normal, red-blooded man would be after. This boy, though-- he stands there, jaw the tiniest bit soft and hands clenched at his side, and stills.

Ah, his father should have trained him better. A soldier never hesitates.

Zakura pushes off the wall he’s decorating, rolling toward her in a loose-hipped swagger. “Mistress Gazeld.”

Her eyes dart to him, then over his shoulder, and when they return it’s with a smile on her lips. “Of course. Sir Zakura. To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”

There’s a thousand pretty nothings that sprout from his mouth, but this woman isn’t a girl in her first season, ready to be wooed by pretty words. So he settles for the truth. “I didn’t think I’d see you here. Weren’t you supposed to be with those scholars you like so much?”

She hums, amused. It’s...an intriguing sound. Or at least it would be, if she couldn’t look him dead in the eye as she made it. “I was. But I had an appointment with Her Majesty. She insisted I stay.”

Zakura huffs out a laugh, leaning on the mantle beside her. “You don’t strike me as the sort who takes commands.”

“I don’t. She asked nicely.” Teeth flash behind her lips. “And I heard they imported scallops for some of the hors d’oeuvres.”

“How mercenary of you.” He lets his mouth widen into a grin. “I approve.”

“Oh,” she coos, mouth twitching at the corners. “Just what I’ve always wanted: a man’s approval.”

Ah, perhaps that was not his best thrust. He leans back the barest bit, and gathers himself for the next engagement. “I trust Her Majesty is well?”

“As well as she looks.” Gazeld’s eyes soften as she speaks. Zakura smothers a smile-- the best way into a healer’s good graces is always through her patients.

“And her...unique ailment?” It’s been years, but Castle allergy is still too ridiculous to say in an adult conversation where he plans on kissing at the end of it. “Anything to be done about that?”

Something in her expression changes-- closes, really; like a village toward a stranger after dark. “I’ve done what I can about the physical symptoms,” she says after a long moment, voice pitched low. “But I can’t do anything about...”

Her lips, thinner than he’s used to-- hell, she’s older than he’s used to too-- press together, a scar across her face as obvious as his own. Her eyes dart up to his, searching, and gods above, he doesn’t know what she finds there to make her say, “There’s nothing I can do for guilt.”

Zakura blinks. Guilt? What could--?

“That didn’t heal well,” she says suddenly, and he hardly knows what she means until she reaches out, brushing out over his nose. “I told you to take care of it.”

He stares down at her-- or across, really, but no one’s keeping count-- right into those strange eyes of her, nearly Wisteria blue in some lights and an intense violet in others--

And remembers thinking the same thing as he laid on his back, delirious with pain and not a little alcohol, as the pharmacist painstakingly stitched his skin back together.

“Fuck.” It’s all a little much-- the guilt, the suspicion, the memories-- and, when she opens her mouth to give him another dose--

The bells ring midnight.

Well, he had come here for a reason.

It should have been a joke. The “ha-ha” kind, where he lays one on her long enough for her to push away. Maybe even slap him if she needs to save face; scholars don’t kiss soldiers, after all. But no harm done; just a solstice kiss between two people who don’t belong here.

Instead, her fingers curl into the velvet of his cloak, hooking like talons around the brass of its pins. She tugs, sending him stumbling forward, hands hovering around her waist with the sort of wariness he shows mutts frothing at the mouth.

An odd thing to think, with hers covering his like this, tongue prying his lips open, and--

And, fuck him if this isn’t the kiss he meant to give. Not that he’s complaining.

Cheers kick up behind him, voices raised to meet the new day, and Zakura takes that as his cue to step back, to breathe.

He catches his hand only a moment before it touches his lips, sending it to lean along the mantle.

“Fair Solstice,” he manages, grin not quite fitting on his lips.

“Fair Solstice,” she agrees, mouth curling. “I have to admit, you did an admirable job, considering.”

Considering? Zakura frowns. Her gaze darts pointedly over his shoulder, and ah yes, there is His Highness, glowering at his back.

“But next time--” she leans in, mischief sparking in the mystery of her eyes-- “leave me out of your children’s games.”

“Ch-children?” Heat flares up the back of his neck. “I’ll have you know, I’m twenty--”

“Of course, of course.” She waves him off with a laugh. “But I’m sure you two can find a more obliging girl to squabble over.”

He doesn’t like the way the queen smiles at him over the rim of her cup, the dawn breaking behind her. “Dare I ask what you’ve done with my son?”

“He’s in his rooms,” Zakura replies, stilted. “Didn’t want to come down.”

Don’t ask why, he doesn’t say. There’s no point when Her Majesty’s already got that look in her eye; the one that says she might not have been there, but all the right people were.

“I see,” she hums, letting her cup settle back on its saucer. “Haki is quite a demanding dance partner, I hear.”

“Seemed a little young to be there tonight.” He scratches at his scar, nose aching in the morning chill. “She can’t be more than what? Thirteen?”

“Fourteen. Not out until next year, of course, but Arleon thought he might make an exception, since her dearest friend would be there tonight.” Her Majesty raises a brow. “Are you really going to hope I don’t know exactly what happened?”

“Ah--”

“Should I congratulate you on such a fine catch?” she asks, arch. “I know there were quite a few young men at Lilias hoping they’d catch such a magical moment with Mistress Garak tonight. After all--”

“It didn’t mean anything.” His hands fly up to ward off her well-wishes. “Just a bit of fun.”

“Oh, I knew exactly what it is, sir.” He chin tilts just so, the thin light of morning washing over her face. “I wish you wouldn’t make enemies of each other, when you would do so much better as allies.”

Zakura barks out a laugh; his scar pulls just enough to sting. “What does a prince get from a man like me? There’s any number of your sort who could do the job.”

“And all of them would stick a knife in his back for a handhold to the top.” Those eyes fall on him, deep and fathomless as the night sky fading above. “You two are more similar than you’d like to admit.”

“Is that so, Your Majesty?” Each word leaves his mouth on a whip’s crack. “A boy loses his father, and now we’re supposed to be--?”

“No.” Her mouth twitches; it’s the only warning he has before she replies, so mild, “Because you’re both stubborn fools.”

Well, there’s not much to say to that one, now is there.

“My son has been left a...complex legacy.” Her fingers smooth across the table’s linen. “There is no other man I would trust more to help him navigate it.”

Zakura’s never been a man to swallow down his words, not for thieves and not for kings, but when he opens his mouth to laugh, to scoff at what complex legacy the world’s richest boy could inherit--

He does. He takes one quick glance at Her Majesty’s face, and what’s there, what’s left behind from these two long years--

I’ve done what I can about the physical symptoms, but there’s nothing I can do for guilt--

Some deaths leave their own legacy on every one they leave behind.

“Well,” he coughs, squinting into the dawn, “how can I say no when the kissing’s so good.”

Her Majesty’s laugh bubbles from her, a force of nature, like water rushing through a stream. “I was under the impression that your kissing days are behind you. At least, the ones that don’t belong to Garak Gazeld.”

He snorts, turning toward the door as a footman enters, preparing to announce His Highness. “We’ll see about that.”

#zakura/garrack #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #(don't go) making something out of nothing #my fic #ans #listen nothing hurts me more than using the official spelling for Garak's name #especially since it's been Garrack Garack and now Garak #and if i HAD to choose my favorite #it'd be garack #but here we are i'm trying to live with it...as best i can...

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turquoise-stones · 4 years

Text

Edge of Insanity Ch. 4: Hate

yandere!Todoroki x fem!reader

Previous Chapter

A/N: Next chapter will have fluff, I promise there won't be sadness much longer!

. . .

Maybe you had just been too tired that morning to notice, but people's eyes definitely lingered on yours in the hallways. You put your head down, trying to hide away your red eyes. You wanted to go up to them and scream the truth into their face, but of course it wouldn't do any good. It was almost comical how fast your happiness was whisked away. You had work so so hard, until your body ached and your head pounded with quirk overuse, to escape into Class 1-A. But it was clear to you in that moment that she would never stop targeting you.

You wandered into the cafeteria, trying not to notice the eyes that followed you when you walked by. You kept your head down, hoping they wouldn't notice your burning flush of shame. Looking around, you were slightly panicked when you saw your usual spot empty. The friends that would normally wave cheerfully at you were gone. Panic and dread washed over you in waves as you looked around wildly. They probably heard about the rumor, and they probably left to avoid associating with you. Damnit, you didn't find them fast enough, and you didn't explain everything in time… you never told them about Inomata and she had cut them all from your life in one fell swoop. You had finally found a community, a family where you felt safe and happy, and in one day, completely out of your control, it was all gone.

Everything was spiraling away. Your integrity was destroyed and your friends were gone. The past couple weeks of happiness were slipping away, all with one evil, evil post. You caught her looking at you. When you met those steely gray eyes, she merely gave you a sweet smile and turned away. You wanted to kill her.

Turning from the cafeteria, you rushed out. Deafening buzzing to resonate in your ears. You desperately turned the corner, feeling the stares of everyone behind you.

Finally out of prying eyes, you leaned against the wall with a shaky gasp. You shut your eyes and clamped a hand over your mouth to suppress the sobs. If the school thought you were a faker, fine, so be it, they were all strangers anyways. But the thought of your friends hating you was too painful to bear.

. . .

...don't know anything about her. So don't you dare gossip about her behind her back."

You perked your head up and slowed to a stop as a familiar croaky voice from around the corner pulled you from your numb thoughts.

"Now excuse me, I need to go find her. And the next time you see (y/n), you'd better apologize for not believing in her!"

In the whole month that you had known her, you had never heard Tsuya raise her voice, ever. What was she saying? You couldn't quite comprehend...

"(Y/n)! Oh my- Ochako there she is!" A voice from behind you called. Spinning around, you saw Midoriya and Uraraka speed walking towards you, waving frantically. Eyes widening, you tried to escape by turning the corner only to bump straight into Tsuya, whose face was still flushed with anger. And suddenly you were surrounded.

"(Y/n)! We've been looking everywhere!" Tsuya cried, before doing a double take. "You look so sad…"

You flinched away from them, their wide eyes becoming too intense to look at. Your heart was starting to beat faster and the tears you had just managed to stop were coming back. You really did not want to face them so soon. You didn't ever want to face them.

Urakara stopped you with a hand on your forearm. You squirmed away from her but she held you firm, brushing aside your messy hair and gently poked the wetness on your cheek with a concerned look.

"Oh (y/n)... please don't cry, we're not going to get angry."

"I don't want to talk to you guys right now." You said, voice cracking. "Let me go."

Uraraka shook her head firmly. "We heard the rumors and when you didn't come to lunch we were worried about you."

Midoriya nodded in agreement. He looked probably just as distressed as you did. "I cant believe the people here would do such a… a… cruel thing!"

"W-what?"

"You'd think people had better things to do with their time." Tsuya croaked. Midoriya nodded seriously at her.

"Do you know who did it?" Uraraka piped up.

"Huh?" You stopped squirming in Uraraka's hold and finally looked closely at them. And it hit you that they didn't look angry or disappointed… if anything they looked worried.

"Who spread the rumor?"

"You guys… don't believe it?"

The three of them blinked at you before an outpour of 'of course nots' and 'we would nevers' rushed at you.

"Did you think we'd believe some stupid rumor?" Midoriya asked, looking almost hurt at your lack of belief in them. You gaped at them. They were serious… the feeling of relief that washed over you was indescribable. You were so grateful. So grateful that you had friends that believed in you.

"N-no! I just… earlier today, Shinsou…"

"What did Shinsou do to you?" Uraraka asked angrily, eyes narrowing as she remembered the times when Shinsou would not so subtly poke fun at you.

"N-nothing…"

Urakara let out a sigh before raising her arms pulling you close into a big hug. You stiffened in surprise for a moment before returning the embrace. Her warm hands patted you soothingly on the back, and you felt heat prick at the back of your eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had held you like that.

You peeked from around her so see Tsuya and Midoriya looking at you with soft gazes. Even if the whole school thought you were scum, it warmed your heart that your friends would stand at your side.

"You… you guys are the best." You said, getting choked up. Uraraka gave you a tight squeeze. "Thank you… for not doubting me."

. . .

The rest of the day was nothing but stressful. After lunch, you explained the situation to your classmates of 1-A, and you hoped that they took your word over any rumors. Thankfully, they confirmed that seeing you work so hard in class was more than proof that the lies were nothing more than lies.

While your classmates were understanding, everyone else was not. When you were called to the principal's office, you were certain that you were going to be expelled. You were practically shaking with anxiety and fear when you stumbled out an explanation, but Principle Mezo ultimately cleared you because he couldn't find any trace of bribery in the treasury files.

However, even if some people could civilly deal with facts and numbers and accept the truth, others turned their nose up at you. In such a prestigious school such as U.A, where everyone worked impossibly hard to get in, students were more averse to foul play than normal. Someone even went as far as to call you out in the hallway. After that, your friends followed you made sure to follow you from class to class as bodyguards, which made you more thankful than you could ever say.

But your friends couldn't always be with you.

You flushed the toilet, pulling your heavy backpack onto your shoulder before shouldering your way out of the bathroom stall. Hearing the sound of running water, you glanced up and froze, ice running down your spine. There she was, with her long black hair steely gray eyes, washing her hands in the sink. She glanced at herself in the mirror, before spotting your stare behind her reflection. You watched as her eyebrows perked up and a slight smirk wound its way onto her face.

Seeing her, Inomata, the source of all your pain and stress, after the incident she pulled today filled you with such burning rage that you were practically shaking. And that expression… it was apparent that she held no shame or pity. You couldn't understand how someone could be so one dimensionally evil in her actions.

She slowly turned around, cast you a leisurely smile, before reaching for the paper towels.

You stared her down with an unpleasant scowl on your face. She wiped and tossed the towel before starting to walk out. No. You were not going to let her leave like that, without acknowledging your rage, without being punished. You weren't one for confrontation, but your body acted before you could stop yourself.

In a split second you were at the door, hand holding the handle shut and body blocking her exit.

"Get out of my way." She said quietly, lips pulling up in displeasure.

"Don't ignore me." You hissed back. She rolled her eyes.

"I'll ignore whoever I damn so please. Now get out of my fucking way." Her biting tone was barely concealed under her even voice. You didn't budge.

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you, dear classmate of mine. I simply want you to move."

"I never did anything to you." You hissed, eyes narrowing. She let out a sigh, anything but thrilled to be cornered here.

"Don't be so dense. You're quirk is too damn similar to mine. In this world, you're either the goddamn best or you're a fucking nobody."

You were taken aback. Somehow you never noticed, but her quirk, even her fighting style matched yours. The general studies teacher had always paired the two of you together and now it was making more and more sense why...

"Is that it? Is that why you're such a… a… bitch towards me?" You said angrily. "The world needs every hero it can get, this isn't some… some competition!"

"Get over yourself (y/n). Fine. Do you know why I hate you? It's because you think you're so cute and pure."

"W- I'm not-"

"SHUT UP. Stop acting like you're on some sort of moral high ground. This isn't some fairy tale where we all hold hands and skip to the finish line. I hate the break you bubble but whoever is stronger will end up on top."

"That's n-"

"And that little post I made? I never mentioned anyone's name. Everyone just seems to think it's you. Maybe cause they just assume someone as weak and useless as you couldn't possibly be in 1-A".

You flinched at her words. You didn't want to believe it.

Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled up as she watched your expression twitch.

"I hope you got what you wanted here." She said, scathingly sarcastic.

You were frozen as she shoved you aside, knocking your hand off the doorknob and pushing the door open. She paused for a second as the two of you stood side by side.

"You may be in a different class, now but don't you think for a goddamn second that you're stronger than me. I swear to God (y/n)... I will be on top. Even if I die trying."

With that she was gone. The door swung back and hit your back with a quiet thump.

Next Chapter

#todoroki shōto #todoroki shouto #mha shouto #shouto x reader #bnha todoroki #yandere #yandere todoroki #yandere todoroki shouto x reader #yandere shoto todoroki #bnha x reader #bnha #mha x reader #mha #reader insert

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venusparker · 5 years

Text

a staring problem ✿ p.p (part one)

prompt: peter parker is not exactly a subtle person, especially not with the way he’s been looking at you lately. and of course, it doesn’t particularly help much that he went ahead and kissed you.

• requested by anon ↴

one where peter and reader r bffs n they're in a scenario and he kisses her and she says she has to go or something/someone interrupts them/snaps them out of it and then she leaves and hes confused why he kissed his bff. They forget about it go back to being bffs but than like a month or so later they’re in the same scenario or position n it reminds him of the kiss and he cant stop thinking bout it and how he wants to kiss her again. and him or reader says 'this seems familiar' and fluff pursues)

warnings: nothing but fluff and cursing fuckers get ready

•••

Peter Parker finds it all too easy to become distracted.

He knows he shouldn’t, that junior year is the year that really truly matters the most out of all four years of high school, that the furthest thing from his mind should be everything but school and his work and his college applications. He knows that he should think things through and not let his mind wander too far, or too close to home, how studying will ultimately take his mind off all of the things he’s been wanting to forget — Tony is a name he’s thought less and less about, but somehow that makes everything hurt all the more — but he can’t.

Peter also finds that you happen to be the perfect distraction.

He doesn’t know when he started feeling this way, with all the cheesiness and the butterflies, and the wanting to impress you — he’s felt all those things before but not with you, not with his best friend, someone’s whose already seen every gross and ugly side of him, and someone who knows that sometimes he reuses day old socks — c’mon [Y/N], what’s a day gon’ do? — when he forgets to do his laundry during the weekend. He’s felt nervous and sweaty when talking to pretty girls in the past, but that never included you; you being the one who usually pushed girls in his direction, trying to help him flirt and get out more, you being someone who knew how hard it was for him to balance Spider-Man and all the horrors of a teenage dating life, so you labeled yourself his wingwoman, since Ned was already his Guy in the Chair.

He’s definitely not supposed to feel this way about you, but he has. He does. He can’t specifically pinpoint when, or how, or why now — but it’s there and his emotions seem more uncontrollable than ever. And you’re very, very distracting.

You’re bouncing your knee as you do your AP Chemistry homework, wanting to rip up the packet of worksheets in frustration as you sit in the Parkers’ new apartment (all courtesy of the Blip), still not used to sitting in this oak desk instead of the old mahogany one, of Peter’s room being so much smaller than you were originally used to. Peter’s staring. You’re not blind, and you’re certainly not dumb enough to not take note of the fact that he’s been completely zoned out when he was the one who was supposed to be helping you understand the newest lesson. And you know Peter. Which meant he wasn’t exactly subtle — so his stare seems to burn right into you.

“Listen, dork, are you going to help me or am I going to have to fake sick tomorrow so I can have an extra day to do this shit?” You ask him, spinning around in your chair, facing him as he loses his composure.

Peter breathes out, annoyed, but also embarrassed. He’s trying not to blush as he rolls his eyes, rolling up the sleeves of his plaid shirt as he walks towards you and stands over you, hovering slightly, gazing at the problem. He knew he should’ve looked away, he was staring way too long, God, you probably thought he was a creep — this sucked. He didn’t even know what he really felt, or even if he did feel anything, or if he was just that desperate for a distraction.

“What’s up with you?”

He coughs a reply; a mumble of sorts as the rasp creeps up. “Nothing. I. . .just. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, I need help because my mom is coming in like less than ten minutes and I know the minute I get home, I’m gonna take a nap and try to finish this in home room instead.”

“Ok,” Peter said, but then he shut his mouth. Wrong answer — but in his defense, he was still. . .gathering himself. He wanted to seem normal. Which, he was. He was just confused? No, that’s not what he was looking for — pensive? He had to tear his eyes away from you to focus on his calloused hands.

He did sneak a tiny glance — quick, almost like a simple blink in your direction before he turned away.

Damn. He really liked that top on you.

“Are you okay?” You put down your pencil — really, any excuse to stop doing work that was due was taken as quick as possible — and looked up at him from the chair.

He backed away and nodded, gulping nervously, which made you severely doubt his previous nod of affirmation. No one gulps nervously if they’re okay.

You got up and walked towards him, staring at him curiously. “Is it a Spider-Man thing? Or is May getting on your case because you’ve been leaving your socks and lotion out again—”

He cringes, then blushes, then cringes harder. That certainly shattered his daze. “Jesus, why do you have to say things like that?”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Cause it’s funny. Cause it’s you.” You poke his shoulder. “Come on, what’s up? Fair warning, if it’s depressing, I might cry.”

He rolls his eyes this time and sits down on the bed, leaning back on his arms. You follow and on the floor by his bed, propping yourself up on his leg, arching a brow. He can’t help but notice that you looked really pretty from that angle.

“How do you know that you like someone?” Peter asks. The words are rushed and quick and very high pitched, exactly how he talks when he’s nervous. He clears his throat directly after, like he wishes he swallowed his words instead.

A part of you deflates.

Peter likes someone?

You wondered who. It could’ve been anyone, really. He had a habit of liking people suddenly and randomly, no matter how long he had known them. It was endearing, in a way, how his crushes would appear and stick for months at a time before he got over them (the moping was horrible, though, and you and May were postigive that he breaks his own heart), but a lot of the time, it was a chore to keep up with. Ned was amazing for somehow managing Peter’s love interests — and dealing with Peter when he claimed that no one paid attention to him.

You wondered if it was MJ.

It was probably MJ.

They were cute together, and they got along really well, and Peter had a thing for her a couple months ago that he swore he had gotten over. Maybe he hadn’t gotten over after all — even though he specifically said the words I swear, that’s done with, I really liked her, but maybe things just don’t work out so I’m over it, I’m over it.

Still, you liked giving him advice. He was sort of an idiot, dense if you will, when it came to these kinds of things. Academically he soared, but with relationships it was like he needed help taking his first steps. And who was always around to assist him?

You’d like to give yourself a pat on the back.

“Well,” you start, trying to think of a possible answer that made sense. You hoisted yourself up on the bed so you were across from him, your knees touching his. “I mean. When I like someone, I think about them a lot. Even when I don’t want to. Or, I want to see them as much as possible, even if it means taking a longer way to class just in case I bump into them. I might just be desperate, but yeah.”

“But what if you know them already? And you don’t have to do all that stuff?” He pesters, and he wishes Ned wasn’t grounded. Ned would be great at this—er, sort of. “What if they just distract you? That doesn’t necessarily mean you like them.”

You furrow your brows. You made a mental note to later force Ned to tell you who Peter liked if you didn’t find out on your own while you were here. You were sure that you could make Peter say who he had in mind himself, but your mother was coming and you wanted to find out today. Part of it was generally curiosity and a willingness to help. The other half — the bigger one — was just because you were nosy.

“That’s true. Just cause they’re a distraction doesn’t mean you like them, they could just be a distraction and that’s that. But I think it depends. Like how they distract you, when, why. Like if you’re bored and they’re doing something entertaining or they’re just nice to look at, then you could just be distracted. But —”

You cut yourself off. You’re not sure why, but suddenly you feel shy, embarrassed, even though you don’t really feel shy around Peter. Your face feels hot because you know Peter is looking at you like you’re crazy, upset and patience running thin when you stopped yourself. You were warming up, ears probably red underneath your strands of hair, and you glanced down and away, hoping that he wouldn’t notice.

Was it a crime to be afraid to reveal too much?

Peter wanted an answer. “But what? Come on.”

He wants to know what you have to say, especially because you always do this; you constantly give him love advice while never finishing when something hits too close to home. He hated it because it made him feel like he was being left out of something he thought he should’ve known by now, and it wasn’t fair that you always knew his latest infatuations while barely sparing a word about any of yours.

Come to think of it, the last time Peter heard you talk about someone you liked was freshman year, and ever since, you had stopped mentioning names.

His heart jumped.

“Fine, shut up. Can you let me breathe? Damn.” You give him a look, sticking out your tongue and he returns it, giving you an annoyed expression.

You want to shove him, but maybe not in the face. Peter had a nice face, so you couldn’t harm that, lest you rid the world — and your eyes — someone nice to look at when you should’ve been doing homework. Still, a shove would have rightfully knocked him down a few pegs. You sigh, continuing, sheepishly.

“I was going to say that, well, if you just happen to look at them, then they’re just something to keep your mind off of something else. But, if, let’s say, you’re in calculus, right? And you really, really need to know the lesson and problem on the board to understand future problems or problems on the test, but you can’t help but keep glancing over, or staring, or somehow you always find yourself looking at them even though you need to focus on something else — you might like them. If you’re trying to focus but you know that they sit behind you or next to you, and suddenly you sneak a peek? You have a problem, my friend.”

You bite your lip, praying it doesn’t seem all too much like this is your own relay of personal experiences. You also hope that he doesn’t think much of you choosing calculus, which is one of the only classes you have together this year.

“A problem?” He repeats, scratching the nape of his neck.

He didn’t necessarily think it was a problem. Well, it was kind of creepy how often his eyes drifted to you when he should’ve been paying attention to Mr. Harrington, or when you left the lunch table to get in line because the cafeteria was selling French toast sticks and he would subconsciously watch you walk away.

Okay, yeah. Maybe he did have a problem.

“Yup. A problem. Now,” you pause for dramatic effect that Peter does not appreciate, “who is it?”

He answers too fast, and he wants to smack himself when he does. “No one! It’s-it’s nothing! I don’t even know if I like them yet. I haven’t, like, kissed them or done anything or even really thought about them that much.”

“Peter, come on! You can tell me.” You move closer to him, readjusting your legs so you can sit comfortably. “You’ll know if you like somebody. Most people have a clue by now.”

“But I don’t know.”

“Yes you do! If you have to ask if you like someone, you probably already know the answer and just don’t want to admit it.”

“I don’t know, okay?! I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Peter’s heart quickens in his chest. He has to refrain from placing his hand over it, as though he’s afraid it might leap out of his chest, like the ending of Alien. That’d be horrific.

“How do you not?” You challenge, getting up in his face, acting smug. It was a best friend’s duty, after all, to be annoying — especially if your best friend was Peter Parker.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” He tells you, but it’s nothing you haven’t heard from his mouth before.

You could definitely be more annoying than you were being right now.

“Tell me! Tell me! Please, Peter? It’s not like I’ll tell anyone and I’ll help you out and—”

You’re moving towards him, trying to up the irritating factor by trying to lay on him, using all your weight and pressing into him so he starts trying to push you off. He groans, clearly unamused, but that’s all the more motivation to keep going.

The pleas keep escaping your lips as you climb him like a child, too caught up in the action to notice much of anything else.

“Um,” Peter says, and you stop. The word leaves his mouth quickly. His eyes are slightly wide, but he’s trying to pretend that they aren’t. Even though you see right through him, most of the time.

You hadn’t noticed how close you two had gotten. Your noses weren’t exactly touching, but a little farther and you could’ve gotten there. You were close enough to notice the flecks of hazel in his eyes, and the rim of gold, something you’d probably take a picture of for your required photography elective (Peter only promised to take it if you took it with him), if you only had a camera. Your eyes trail his face before you stop yourself and lift your head back slightly.

“I’m. . .” You feel like you’re choking on your words. They come out so soft, as a whisper, and they’re trailing, like you can’t finish. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. That’s weird. This is weird.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassures you, but neither of you make any effort to move away from each other, and he doesn’t exactly want to. His breathing is shaky, and he knows you hear it.

“It is?” You don’t move back — just frozen, so close to his face. Did he always have that scar there? And you could’ve sworn he had less freckles. “It’s. . .okay?”

Your own words confuse you, but he shakes his head, swallowing.

“Yeah.” Peter lets out a breathy reply, staring at you.

He moves forward like someone else had pushed him, and he kisses you, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. You feel his lips — they’re soft, but a little chapped on the corners, and they taste like a mixture of that caramel coffee flavor he always likes to drink and the spare lip balm you let him borrow — as they press against yours, a small peck, a light graze, and then Peter pulls away. You kiss him back, you know that much. For that minuscule moment, you kissed Peter Parker back.

You two stare at each other. Silent, motionless, stiff.

Then he kisses you again.

This time it’s longer, but still nervous. It’s awkward and weird, but enjoyable at the same time — enjoyable because it’s you, it’s you, it’s you, and Peter has never thought about kissing you, not really, and now that he has, now that he actually was, he knew he would have trouble even kicking the memory out of his mind. You kiss him back kind of hard because you don’t know how to trek into this new territory, how to walk safely without stubbing toe, but he kisses you, he kisses you — Peter is kissing you.

And then he’s not.

Both of you hear it. The footsteps, May’s footsteps to be specific, and you jump so far apart from one another that you’re off the bed and on your feet. The blush on both of you is enough to give a grounded Ned secondhand embarrassment (Peter may have had Spidey-senses, but Ned’s Best Friend Sixth Sense was probably pinging right now), and you collect your things — that damn AP Chem homework, the bane of your existence — shoving them into your bag.

Did that happen? Did that just happen, for real? Did you kiss Peter Parker on his dumb mouth and enjoy it?

Fuck. Well, technically he kissed you.

By the time May throws open Peter’s bedroom door, an action all were used to by now, you’re packed up and ready to go, not even looking at the boy less than five feet away from you. To be fair, it’s not like he’s exactly looking at you either. Not anymore.

You two are looking at everything, but each other.

“I think your mom is outside, [Y/N]. She buzzed on the wrong apartment because our buttons are all kind of funky. Should be getting fixed by Tuesday, though, so that’s fun! Mechanic guy that my friend Chelsea used to date offered to do it for free,” May rambles endearingly, and it’s almost enough to make you feel less flustered by the past five minutes.

Almost.

“Thanks, May! I’ll get going then.” You walk up to the doorway to give her a hug and turn around. You’re not sure what to do about Peter. “Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, Pete. Bye.”

“Uh, what? Oh, bye.” Peter gives you a casual wave, despite the fact that he’s unable to meet your eyes. May sends him a look, having perhaps an entire conversation with him just via her eyes (she had always been gifted at that), before walking you out of the apartment.

Peter listens intently on his bed as May’s voice rings through the small apartment, how she asked you questions about the usual: homework, school, your family — and you and May had always bonded over a similar taste in stupid reality television. You hated it so much that you became obsessed with it, and May loved catching up with you over episodes of random shows you would happen to stumble upon. He endures several minutes of finding out spoilers to something he didn’t really care about until he heard you say a final goodbye and May shutting the door.

He sighed in relief, but he knew what was coming. May. May — as lovable and amazing as she was — was very, very gossipy. Not that she had many people to gossip with, though she had a large number of friends, but she liked knowing even the most intimate details of Peter’s life. It wasn’t bad, but that just meant he had a hard time lying to her.

She came back in the room, loose pants swinging against her legs as she opened his bedroom door, the strictly Eye Conversation now becoming one that could be said out loud.

“Peter.”

“Yes, May?”

She was expectant, but smiling. It was a knowing smile and Peter hated it — even though he was trying not to blush or smile either.

“Well. What the hell was that?”

•••

i’ll start working on part 2 y’all!!! hope u enjoyed part one tho. and thank u to the anon who sent this request it’s rlly cute

389 notes · View notes

kae-karo · 5 years

Note

[1] hi!! so idk if you've seen dan speaking at the mental health panel or not, but there was one part that hit me really hard and id love to know your thoughts on it! basically he was saying that often content creators, and people in general, are struggling with their mental health the most when it seems like they're thriving (uploading constantly, getting good grades, etc) but everyone thinks they're fine. which is literally my life rn but i can't take a break from overworking myself bc i need

[2] to get into college. do you have any advice abt how to provide for my future while still taking care of myself? also, i just want to thank you for running such a healthy and positive blog bc it has helped me thru some difficult times, and you seem like such a thoughtful and caring person!

hi dear! oh no :( I'm so sorry, that's such a hard position to be in - I havent been in school for a few years, and not in high school since 2012 yikes lmao, so I'm sure things have changed a bit but hopefully I can still give some advice that helps?

I'd say first and foremost, talk to a trusted adult you know in person about how you're feeling - whether that be a parent, older sibling, favorite teacher, advisor, etc. they may have advice more specific to your situation that might take into account details I dont know. and while this is my first piece of advice, it can also be the hardest? sometimes facing our demons and being honest about them with others who have only seen our "good side" can feel impossible, but it can be a crucial step to help build a support system that you can go to when you feel you're struggling

the next thing I'd say is, on a small scale, start taking time for yourself. I know that's like. the hardest thing to do when you have like 6hr of homework a night, minimum, plus clubs or sports or other activities that take time, but literally even sneaking five minutes between some bits of homework to do something that's calming and centering for you can make a difference - if you can grab five minutes to go sit in a space you feel comfortable, away from your work, to breathe and think about something other than your work, that can be helpful

the next one is sorta like. tangential, but take care of your body as well - you're still a growing and developing human, so this is ESPECIALLY important, but drinking lots of water (and not too many sugary drinks/chemical drinks) and eating veggies and getting enough protein can literally make such a big difference in your brains ability to function at it's best. the other important thing here is sleep - every body is different, so keep in mind what your body does best on and (when you can) aim for that. between hydration, good nutrition, and sufficient sleep, you're laying a foundation that can help your brain be more successful throughout the day

I wish, ultimately, i had a perfect answer for the fucked up school system (esp in America which is what I'm most familiar with), but it honestly sets you up to fail. what (unintentionally) worked well for me was having a blow-off class or two - classes that were easy for me (like sign language, or French 1 after I'd already taken Spanish for several years) and could help boost my GPA without stressing me out as much. if you can find those classes- and definitely look for the ones that are easy for YOU, don't just ask around for the easiest classes - that can be a really nice break in your day and help relieve you of some after-school stress

here's another "honesty is the best policy" situation - if you find yourself struggling to understand a concept, or homework is taking you so much longer than some of your peers (or the teacher says theres only an hour of hw a night and you end up spending far longer on it) talk to the teacher! tell them you're struggling, and ask if you can get some help understanding a topic. be specific about what you dont understand (dont just go "I dont get it") and explain your thought process - this can help teachers understand where you're veering off the path and what you might be missing. and, more importantly, if you're coming in for help, they're more likely to be lenient with you because they know you're trying (yes I'm aware that was more a "school help in general" bit of advice but in case that's something you're struggling with)

now heres....maybe some controversial advice. take calculated risks. example: if a teacher has a policy where they drop your lowest homework grade in a class and you're doing alright in that class, but you have a day where you're saddled with WAY too much work for another class where you're struggling, it's okay to say "okay, today I need to go to sleep by 10pm, I can either finish this difficult homework or complete homework for the class that will drop a grade", sometimes it makes more sense to skip that one homework and get a zero to spend time dedicated to the class you're struggling in and get rest. in a similar vein, there is also a limit to studying - there is a point where you physically cannot absorb more knowledge. it is so much better for your brain - both from a focus and memory standpoint - to get a little extra sleep than to stay up late studying well past the point where you will retain knowledge.

now....again, I havent been applying to colleges in ages so my advice might be a bit stale, but colleges tend to look for good grades but also challenging classes, or improvement over time in classes, etc etc. they want to know you're working hard, and that you have diverse interests. college apps are a bit like resumes honestly, except you cant lie about your GPA. but like. you can fluff everything else. literally EVERYTHING becomes fair game with college apps. you can talk about fanfic or a fandom you're in if you phrase it the right way, like there are barely rules lmao. and you can make yourself sound very appealing

so my advice would be basically this: work hard, but learn your personal limits. figure out how much sleep a night makes you feel awake and focused the next day (again, it varies!) and aim for that as much as you can. try to eat nutritiously when you can, and drink lots of water. dedicate time to your homework and studying, but be sure to take regular breaks and ACTUALLY shift your brain away from your work during those breaks. and it's also good to dedicate time to life activities - like I said, colleges want to know you're a diverse person. spend time in clubs you like or playing sports if that's your thing, or do things unconnected to school. and remember, you can fluff that all up on a college app! but also remember - you have to live with you for the rest of your life, and there are so so many paths to a good job or a college education if that's what you decide you want, be sure to prioritize your health as much as you can. the education system tricks you into this never ending cycle of "if I just push through ___________ I'll get to ___________!" and taking that through your life can be really challenging and exhausting. I need to acknowledge that some of this is easy for me to say - I was a good test taker in high school, I went to college, and I bullshitted my way through (that's a whole other story lmao) but like. I need to acknowledge that, by some privilege and luck, I do have a college education. so when i say this next thing, please take it with a grain of salt, but there is more to life than chasing what society tells us to chase - there is family, there are friends, relationships, hobbies and interests and love and dreams and spending hours playing video games and SLEEP and getting sunburned cause you spent too long out under the sun photosynthesizing and collecting pens or shiny rocks and ANIMALS there is so so so much in life and I hate with such a burning passion that, for the first 22 years of our lives, we are told the ONLY thing in life is getting through college, getting a degree. again, I need to acknowledge that I say that with a background of privilege, and that education can help people get out of bad situations, etc, but there are many paths to education and they dont all require you to put life on hold to get there

let me tell u a story real quick, cause my education looks (from the outside) "easy" (turns out I had depression and eating disorders of all kinds yeehaw !!!!). my sister did NOT have an easy time in school - my parents could afford it, so she had a tutor for some of her challenging subjects, but she also dealt with anxiety and depression the entire time. she didnt get into the college she wanted to, but got put in a sort of program where, if she got good enough grades in some community college courses, she could get into the school. so she worked her ass off, dove even deeper into her mental health issues, but eventually did get in. and then she had challenging classes and didnt have a great support system, and she ended up failing out of many of her classes, to the point where she got put on academic probation. so she took a year off, got a job at a daycare, and I have literally never seen her happier or more well-adjusted. shes going back to school now, for early childhood education, and working part time at the daycare while she takes a light course load at school

another story for you - my aunt graduated high school and went straight into the workforce. she came from a dirt-poor family and couldn't afford it. she bounced around a bit, but eventually found company that she worked well with. they paid for her to go to school, and she finally got a degree many years after what we would consider "traditional". she had a few other jobs, but shes been at her current company now going on 20 years, has been through several promotions, and works directly with a c-suite employee. she is also the only woman in her office, a very traditional trucking company where she works with engineers on a daily basis

there are many paths to education, if that's where you want to go, and it's okay if it ends up looking different from the traditional path were told to follow. do what you can to avoid sacrificing your mental health for an education - if its what you want, you will get there. and remember to ask for help along the way!! I hope that helps a little, dear

#advice

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the-house-of-the-nine · 5 years

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The Damned Never Die: Revelation, Part 1

[To those of you who continue to follow us, share our work and help spread the writings of myself and the fine people who work with me; I thank you! More than you know. “In Depths Below” has officially ended and I’m happy to start sharing the next book in our series of writings which is titled “The Damned Never Die”. Please help by linking and sharing this with people who might be interested; we really appreciate it! And if you’re here to read! Thank you as well, and without an further delay on my part; Please enjoy the first part of this tale! ]

Two Weeks since Lazarius’ return to the Nine. . . .

“ Kun-Lai, I will never forget Kun-Lai. It was the beginning and the end of everything for me. It caused me the life of a dear friend, and gave me the death of a hated enemy. It brought closure, it brought grief, but most importantly it brought questions.

Everything that happened from then until now; and here I sit, stirring within my own mind, poised to take quill to parchment once again. To fill another ledger with my thoughts and words to add it to my collection. To give insight to the future generations of the accounts that took place here. The dozen or so volumes that will be added for the events here will certainly give a sufficient record of what we faced. I am just pleased to have returned.

Kun-Lai to Zandalar to the Marshes, through Arathi and Hillsbrad. . . to Alterac. And finally home again. . . I have never wanted to be home more now than I was in that entire ordeal. . . Home. . .I never wanted any of this to happen. . .“

He peered down at the empty page, and slowly the quill began to quiver and shake as his finger motioned toward it.

I never wanted any of this. Well I write that but is it really the truth? I suppose I should have been a bit more forthcoming in the weeks leading up to everything that had happened. I was a fool, a careless fool to say the least. And put stock in myself thinking I could do something without any help as usual.

Marseille warned me. “Don’t you think this is a matter for the council?” but rather than go right to them, I decided to do what I wanted. Again.

I had every bit of knowledge I needed when I found out that the Magisters led by Dawnseeker were planning their coup. I didn’t have any idea that he was going to spring into action with the End Game being first. I was a fool. He bested me in my own battle.

Here I had hoped to get the upper hand by striking first. Marseille was going to eliminate them one after another. We had everything in order and then Kun-Lai happened.

How was I supposed to expect them? Zoei and I hadn’t seen one another since she went on assignment behind enemy lines. And here I am writing about her now.

I never really get a chance any more to just sit and theorize. I am always filling this ridiculous book with all sorts of nonsense. Why cant I just have a bit of time to write poetry or draw little sketches.

“You’re doing it again. . .” he said softly to himself as he began to scribble out the last line in his journal.

Zoei is gone. Not one week after being back from all of the kodo shit and she is gone. She had told me, this wasn’t the life she had expected. That everything we’d gone through was enough to leave her wondering if she actually wanted it anymore. I think the massacre at the Masquerade was partially responsible. Perhaps part of me always knew that she was not cut out for this life; any yet in my naivety I pushed her, and forced her into it. I pushed her in deeper into the darkness, and inevitably slipped right out of my hands.

It is a pity. Despite all that has happened over the years, the last remaining of my apprentices is still Sennaris. I suppose she will always be my crowning achievement of success. At least there is that. A poor girl, lost and alone; trained to become a powerful empath and Compellor of The Nine. I couldn’t be more proud.

So, yes. I had to wipe Zoei’s mind. Took the knowledge of the void, the memories we shared, everything we’d been through. She’ll never even recognize me if she saw me today. Just another face in the crowd as she walks past. And here I am, me. . .forced to endure and remember. I am always left remembering....

“Always fucking remembering. . .” he hissed as his hand raised the chalice to his right which was filled with a crimson liquid.

His Cindervine Red, his favorite. His one true comfort in troubling times. The wrapped fingers that were coiled around the stem of the chalice were a mixture of void energy and a woven nylon material the parasite managed to synthesize.

His hands were completely obliterated when he and Jursol had to destroy the metallic shackles Dawnseekers hunters encased them in. His flesh and bone were missing on most of his fingers, and the parts of him that did survive the ordeal was blackened and charred and would be forever damaged.

If it hadn’t been for the entity within his genetics; there would have been no happy ending for his upper appendages. Amputation would have been the only plausible answer. The only saving grace was that it had stopped the infection immediately, and worked to preserve whatever tissue it could.

Because the host was damaged, it would allow him the use of a wire like framework of nerve endings that it had created in replacement for his missing fingers. The spiderweb of nerves were purple and string like; almost like a wire frame from a sculpture. After creating the illusion of fingers and parts of his missing hand, the bindings of void energy and nylon would be wrapped around the frame like a mummified corpse; thus appearing to be whole.

CLACK - CLACK

It was the only way he could retain the use of digits and feeling. But sadly; he would have to live like this for the rest of his existence. A deformed and hideous version of his former self.

“Back to the point. . .” his voice softly murmured as he tried to refocus himself on the open ledger. The strange sound heard as he was pausing, that odd sound which was bugging him lately. Where was it coming from?

My time away from the order gave me a period in which to think about what exactly was going on. What we were really striving for. How we were structured. And ultimately what the future was going to hold for all of us.

It is a careful thought. Curious even, now nearly ten years passing since everything had been completely changed and restructured. The loss of not only Raelyinda, but Mo’rynth. Then Zalinath returning and destroying us. The rebirth and and rebuild; everything since those early days. Days when it was just myself, my sister and Poeta.

Now, we’re a city. A populace of like mined individuals striving to survive and flourish in a future that seems almost inevitable. N’Zoth is rising from the sea, and with it will usher in the return of the Black Empire. The turning point for Azeroth will be if the planet lives. Because even then, the true masters of the void will surely be invited to set their eyes on this little ball of earth and water.

While on Zandalar, getting to know Jursol, and trying to figure out where this leaves us as a collective; something dawned on me. We have survived. Not because of our blind faith in depths below, or because of our masters will. It was because we as a collective are strong. We are our own strength and we give ourselves the power to change our future. And change we have. We’ve broken away from the ties that bind us, choosing to keep what we want, and banish the chains that hold us back.

And that is my revelation. That is my discovery. We are the Nine and we control our future. The entire council and collective order we have formed here, our home, our prosperity. We’ve achieved a great and many things, and will continue to push forward.

It was galvanized in my mind the very moment I returned. When I had seen what the people here are capable of even without my wisdom and guidance. The loss of one; stirs the wrath of many. Like shaking a hornets nest. And it would be no different for any other who may have been lost to our cause. They achieved something that was neigh impossible; by combining their prowess and working toward the future that they controlled. And in the end, they have only fueled my vitality toward achieving more to its maximum.

There came a soft, yet stern knocking on the massive stained door of the Inquisitors chamber. He knew exactly who it belonged to before he even spoke.

“Ser...” came the grizzled voice of the withered old Gilnean.

Lazarius peered up from his inscribing quill and glanced toward the veteran with his venomous black pools.

“Kross. . .” he responded, resting his elbow against the surface of the large writing desk.

“My apologies for disturbing your diligent work...” replied the specter.

“Never a reason to apologize, old friend. I always welcome your presence you know that. . .what is it?” there was not a hint of doubt coming from his voice at this point. Kross was always welcome.

“You requested a progress update earlier this morning. Doctor Whistletorque had asked to speak to you about the forge. Also a missive arrived earlier this week from the Baron; Krazzlowe, something Koltun and Pyravari have already begun tending to. Madam Jursol has also asked about where the limitations are for her raptors to roam, and if it will be disturbing to the students to allow them to wander freely. There was also a. . .”

Lazarius raised his hand toward the white eyed steward. He smiled and nodded slowly as if he already knew all that he was trying to tell him.

“Kross. . . you are suddenly acting as though this place would fall apart without me.”

“Yet you are aware of the redundancy of that statement, considering it is the literal result if you were lost.” the old bearded man would say as he moved in closer to the table.

Lazarius chuckled softly and continued to nod as his body leaned back and pressed against the spine of the chair.

“Well aware. . . “

Kross stood beside the fairly clean table top, noticing nothing was out of place; there were no scattered piles of books and ledgers. The drafting table was completely empty. It roused his suspicions but he remained silent. Usually his charge was avidly scheming. Always toiling a project or plot; a result of the parasite again no doubt causing his brain to toil and turn with every waking moment.

“Kross. . .have you given thought to what our life would be like if we were not bound to this place?” the disturbing question from the Inquisitor bellowed as his eyes closed and he listened to the silence of the room.

“You are wondering if I’ve given thought to my eternal slumber, or...?” he paused. The steward reached his gloved fingers outward and curled them around the length of the bottle neck containing Lazarius’ wine.

“No no, I mean... this life. I don’t know perhaps it is foolish. . .” he responded calmly sighing.

“I have known you for nearly three centuries Ser, hardly anything you suggest is either faulty or foolish.” Kross responded without hesitation as he bent at the elbow and began to refresh the chalice with the burgundy liquor.

“Hardly?” he mused softly as he heard the choice of word.

Kross only smiled lightly, enough to track back again as his master continued on.

“The old ones give; and they take away. But we are not meant to be the true servants are we?” he asked listening to that familiar gulping of the wine as it poured from the bottle.

“You are beginning to wonder your place in the world?”

“No I understand our place, I am questioning our position in it. I know our place will always be here. Doing as we always have. Defending our freedom from persecution for practicing what we do. Protecting our sacred ways our sacred brothers and sisters. . . I will never forsake that which has shaped me, but I. . .” Lazarius stuttered again in his words as his head shook and he peered up with the contrasting black eyes to meet the white of his friend.

“You are beginning to see then. . .” Kross said peering back as he finished refilling the glass.

“See?” the elf asked curiously, his brow lofting in natural response.

“There is more to what we have here than simply chaos, and wanton lusts for madness. True we are creatures of the nefarious. Primed to always be thrust against the natural order of what is righteous and what is good. But that does not define us. We do as we must to ensure ours do not die off, whatever it takes. . ..”

Lazarius continued to listen to the sagely council of his old friend. Choosing to remain silent after he paused and placed the bottle down, allowing the Steward to continue.

“When the servant is no longer needed, the Master will cast him aside. The years of dedicated service and dutiful care taking will never be forgotten, but rarely do those who serve the source of a greater power reach the pinnacle of their Masters success. It is not often the servant stand atop the mountain beside the glory. . .”

The black eyes of the Inquisitor tore suddenly away. He was not certain but he wondered if that was how he was seen. A ruling tyrant, a man who had placed himself above the values of the greater collective.

“And yet here you stand, continuing to serve.” he murmured softly into the room.

“And here I stand, continuing to serve, because you are not that, Ser.” Kross placed his hand upon the robed shoulder of his own Master. “You are nothing like that.”

“...no something. . .far, far worse.. ” he snorted into a chortle as he shook his head. The wrapped fingers of his left hand raising upward and placing upon the gloved edges of the old mans.

“Ser, the day you become a wretched tyrant who places the ones he cares for in danger; choosing to protect yourself over they, is the day you find my resignation letter impaled in the phylactery holding my remains.” Kross stated softly.

Lazarius peered back up at the older man and smiled. He was a father figure, and always had been. But more importantly he was an honest friend, a governing influence and a moral compass to the sometimes verbose and outlandish mind of his own making.

“Still. . . To some I already am. . .you know that yes?” Lazarius said softly.

“Those who have wandered away have lost their nerve. Either by their own lack of dedication or fears that have left them unsure. Some have given up, and others have simply lost their desire. But you have never once put their lives in any danger without putting your own in first.” The old Gilnean said in a gruff voice that allowed for some compassion to linger.

Lazarius only nodded. There were few who came and wandered off, and some who had just all together abandoned them. Some who had sought to manipulate and take; but never give.

“In fact some may say you are the reason for their success. You’ve given away more than you have taken. Especially when it comes to their well being, and safety.”

Kross add softly as his own hand pulled away once Lazarius had released him. He continued.

“A home like The Bastille after losing the estate and all we had built there. Not many would have been so fortunate in the case of having the foresight to move, but also successfully avoid the unnecessary deaths of hundreds. Save for those sixty seven.”

Lazarius indeed knew that the old man was trying to lessen the weight of his mind, but something still burned in the very back.

“While I was away from you all, it had given me time to think. Time to consider. With everything that has happened between now and the beginning of this war; we have been stuck in a position I would say is. . .fair at best.”

Kross listened as he began to tidy the small scraps of paper and items around the massive desk.

“I thought of possibly reaching out to a few connections we still had. . .aid us in getting back on our feet until we could financially support ourselves again.” he continued as his head shook back and forth.

“With so much lost from Quel’thalas, until you finally decide to reinstate Miss Kash’ebahl as the benefactor and head of the families affairs it makes things difficult there.” Kross added as he made his way toward the small waste basket.

“And doing so now would not be advantageous. I can’t exactly march back in and begin asking for hand outs. Though the thought has crossed my mind.” Lazarius concluded as he flattened his palm on the surface of the table.

“There has been no change in the escalating war either. Currently it seems the Horde is balanced on its inevitable collapse as we face another catastrophic dictators iron Horde. . . though the Banshee seems determined to retain her throne of hide and bone.”

Kross would slowly pace back toward his Master. His white eyes studying the stress that built as he thought. Lazarius continued on.

“The bakery is enough to launder money, we are floating well above our means at the moment; all things considered. But if we cannot continue to filter the money from the Io-Cerebellum into Stormwind and Quel’thalas respectively, we could hit a financial brick wall.”

The black eyed Inquisitor curled his wrapped ethereal fingers around the stem of the chalice and sipped from it.

“Of course.” replied the steward.

“There are supplies to keep moving, food and stores to replenish. People here expect a certain amount of sustainability. A certain respective comfort. It would be unfit for me to simply strip that away because we’re strapped in our pockets.” the truth of the matter is he would begin selling off his own personal items before letting those around him suffer.

Kross was simply an observer at this point; a means of bouncing ideas from his lord to a bent ear. A way to perhaps move the ball forward, the wheels turning, suggestive thought just by working it out through his mind and into the air.

“I should have withdrawn that funding the moment this war began to fester. The moment they burned that tree, I . . .”

“You can not blame yourself for not having the hindsight to predict the retaliation. Nobody could have predicted the Alliance storming the beaches of Tirisfal. But you had enough sense to get our greatest asset safely away.”

Kross stood before him and firmly placed a hand on the table, he didn’t stop there.

“You spared hundreds by having the knowledge to act rather than wait. You could have continued your dealings and practicing what you wished. Continued to manipulate the courts and magistrate. But you did not. You abandoned your own selfish requirements and put the people who depend on your first. That is what a true leader does, Ser.”

Lazarius peered toward the Steward and suddenly blurted out.

“W-what did you say. . .”

Kross looked stunned. Lazarius never took his words into account as if they were meant to sting or wound.

“Ser, I did not mean to offend. . .I was j-”

“No no, Kross about the courts. . . The Horde. . . We don’t need to generate money...” he said trailing off and getting a distant look in his eyes.

Kross looked confused as Lazarius began ripping through his entire desk trying to find the correct ledger. Somewhere in there he would be hunting. And the old Gilnean would watch with a great interest as he attacked the drawers like a madman.

“Here we have been looking for a way to produce capital to continue moving forward. We are constantly moving forward, and yet all we need to do is look back at the past. . .where in reality we have been sitting on top of a goldmine this entire time.”

He suddenly ripped a large enchanted ledger from the lower drawer. His hand placed flat against the surface and it opened in a bright flash of purple light. Moments later, page after page, he would flip to somewhere in the middle and point directly at the amount. It was unfathomable to say the least.

“Ser?”

Lazarius grinned and tapped the page again before peering up at Kross.

To be Continued in. . . “The Damned Never Die: Revelation, Part 2″

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void-official · 5 years

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“Micro-identities/’Mogai/ya’ll literally just be making shit up now” OK. i’m sorry im stuck on this and this is the last i’ll talk about it today bc fuck it. I’m gonna be Real for a second. And it’s going to be awkward, and it’s going to be long, and I’m gonna Lose Follower bc defending micro-labels is Cringe. Whatever. I get it. go ahead and unfollow. The rest of you who actually care. and in the spirit of Pride Month, as someone who feels like they’re almost never allowed to express Pride in who I am? Here we go.

I’m bi. Most of you can probably tell, im not exactly subtle about it.

I’m bi. But

my actual interest in dating or having sex with Anyone has been pretty much negligible for my entire life. I just don’t Care. I never have. Dating and sex seem like a hassle to me and I don’t feel like i’m particularly missing out by not taking part in them. It doesn’t negate my enjoyment of peoples bodies necessarily, nor does it mean I never get crushes on people it just means at the end of the day, my desire to go out there and find people to have sex with and/or date has always been like. really really low. Even if the opportunity was there. And i’ve come to terms with this. I accept this about myself.

There is actually a great deal of overlap between bi and ace identity. all those ‘weird little terms’ like ‘demisexual’ you guys hate so much were originally created for people like me, who feel like they are fundamentally not allowed to call themselves something straightforward like ‘bi’ (or straight/gay/lesbian) without people inevitably screaming at them for Doing It Wrong. So they can describe how they feel in a brief word, instead of having to go through the pains of explaining the complex relationship they have with sexual attraction to every fucking person who asks what their sexuality is.

saying ‘well you should just be able to say bi and leave it at that’ doesn’t actually account for the experiences i have when i Just Say i’m Bi. Even me Just Saying ‘im bi’ i’ve always gotta deal with harassment from people whoget weirdly agressive about -why- i’m not out there fucking or dating the people i claim im attracted to. Am I a prude? a Tease? Just an ‘Acey’ lying for brownie points? Am I Actually Just Traumatized? (They ask in a really aggressive condescending way, like thats actually how you should talk to someone you think is potentially traumatized) But by the standards of this discourse, i’m not allowed to call myself ace either, because then people are going to yell at me that if I experience the tiniest smidgen of sexual attraction or romantic inclination sometimes, or post pictures of sexy video game characters, clearly i cant be that either I literally can’t win. there is not a thing I can call myself that won’t earn me the ire of LGBT people on tumblr who think they know me and what i should call myself better than I do. And believe me i hate talking about this More than you do. I’d rather just shut up and let people Assume i’m whatever they want me to be sometimes but then mutuals i thought i trusted will inevitably openly make fun of the people who outwardly call themselves demisexual or whatever microlabel is trendy to shit on currently, and usually i bite my tongue cause at the end of the day its Just Words, right? I don’t even use that word, right? Its just words and some words can be interchangeable and not everyone knows what they mean which can feel alienating and unnecessary to people who don’t understand them. I -get- why people ‘cringe’ when they see like 10 terms they don’t understand in someones bio. why do you think i don’t even list anything about my sexuality in mine other than my pronouns?

but I always remember like. just bc that label isnt For Me, it doesn’t mean there might be someone in a similar position to me who doesnt feel comfortable just calling themeslves bi, and prefers the label ‘demisexual biromantic’ who feels like that phrase puts them in a place of peace and contentment, and I wouldn’t argue with them about it. Bc thats their fucking choice. Them being happy with who they are takes priority over my personal opinions of the language they use. same with gender nonconforming people who dont want call themselves trans or nonbinary. Thats fucking Fine. I’m not telling you to have to use the same words as me if you don’t feel like they’re necessary or accurate. I literally don’t give a rats ass what words you use to identify yourself so long as they’re not being used to hurt other people. I just want to be able to have Words, for myself, that describe how I feel, that don’t result in people treating my entire identity like some shitty discourse Meme. And right now I have none. No matter what I call myself, people choose tell me it’s not accurate, or its too complicated.

As for all these shitty fucking posts about people ‘forcing’ young people to take up labels. This. This doesn’t actually happen? (OK I won’t say it doesn’t happen ever on an individual level? but that its not something enforced or encouraged by any group as a practice, and that distinction is necessary, bc saying it happens on a large scale literally implies predatory intentions from a massive group of people instead of members of the group behaving poorly as individuals)

Demisexual people as a whole have literally never told me i had to call myself demi just bc my sense of how i experience attraction might be similar to theirs. Ace people as a whole don’t usually tell people whose lack of sexual attraction is caused by trauma or who havent developed enough to experience sexual attraction that they -have- to call themselves ace. Most Bi or Pan people are fine with the fact that their labels have a lot of overlap and that the line between these things can be murky, they arent actually constantly ready to tear each others throats out over whose terminology is correct. All of this shit is made up by hateful people, or people taking a few examples of poor behavior out of context as an excuse to shit on everyone else, and well meaning people keep falling for it bc it -seems- helpful to be. reactive. I guess? to people you’re constantly told are hurtful to the causes of marginalized people. but im telling you. its not true. literally nobody forces you to call yourself any of these words, they just Exist out there in case you want them, and if you think thats somehow a threat to other peoples identities or to Minors just like, conceptually, for existing, for being Too Specific, im sorry but what other word is there for your reaction than phobic? If an individual derails a conversation about Y to be like “You didn’t include _X_” or tries to force their views on a minor who hasn’t developed a stable sense of identity yet, that is an Individual behaving in an inappropriate manner, not an invitation for you to throw the whole group under the bus. I hate to tell you but if you’re using examples of individuals on tumblr who say stupid shit, everyone on tumblr says stupid shit and butts in conversationally where they’re not welcome. Universally. It’s how tumblr is formatted. Trust me, I have like 4 viral posts going right now.

i’m just tired of it at this point. im not cool with people who stretch to make fun of micro-labels all the time and think they’re being woke allies or w/e to the ‘real LGBTs’. Even if a lot of the time I personally don’t care for all the labels and wouldn’t choose them for myself, I still feel like If you can’t treat people like individuals and assess their character on a case by case basis, i don’t trust you. I don’t like people who stereotype and LGBT people are not immune to this behavior. Like i don’t say it often but it fucking hurts, and it hurts other people I’m close to who I know have similar complicated identities and struggle coming up w/words to describe themselves that the whole of tumblr LGBT+ will approve of and agree with (clearly an impossibility because there are still people who don’t want bi and trans to even be in there). I might tolerate the constant jokes and not block on principle of knowing not everyone has ingested and thought about this discourse in the same way I have, and im a big tough adult, ultimately i can take it. but inside i know no matter what i call myself, if i were earnest with some of you about how i feel I’d probably be just another ‘special snowflake Delusional mogai creep’ to you, and i can’t deny that fucking hurts to think about. I try not to talk about it openly bc it embarrasses me, bc i dont think my sexuality should have to be battle ground for discourse for people who are supposed to be on my side. But there it is. I think most of this discourse is Trash, and clearly not for the reason most people on here say its trash, not bc theres ‘too many specific words, y’all just be Making Shit Up’ but because so many of you are more caught up in the words than the substance of the arguments or the needs of people whose experiences might have a lot of overlap with yours regardless of what word they’re using to describe it.

Anyway. happy pride to LGBTQA+ people who still dont really feel pride in themselves or their identity. I’d say you’re valid, but you don’t need my validation or anyone elses to understand that you’re a person deserving of respect and compassion. You exist as who you are, and you have to come to terms with who that is, regardless of whether or not you feel like you’re accepted for it. if not pride then, settle for confidence in who you are.

#........./#....../#././#././/./#/././..#long post

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calliecat93 · 5 years

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RvB17 Episode 12 (Season Finale): Theogeny

We did it, everyone! We made it to the finale! Woohoo! It still sucks that it’s only 12 episodes, but hey we made it!

It has been one Hell of a ride, full of highs and full of lows. I loved things like Donut getting character development, and hated things like how confusing the time travel shit is. I’m not going to talk about those here though. All of that will be saved for my Season Review, which should be up later today or tomorrow. So stay tuned for that cause it is looooong! For now though, we need to unpack this finale because Lord knows how they’re going to resolve all of this in just one episode. So without further ado, let’s dive right into the grand finale of Red vs Blue: Singularity.

Overview

We begin with Grif still being pushed through drills, continuously shot at until the coach knocks him over the ledge. Fortunately, before he can meet Lopez’s fate, he’s saved by Donut who kills the Labyrinth's Avatar and frees Grif from his nightmare. Chrovos succeeded in sending Donut and Doc in, and they are unaffected because… ugh… because plot! Okay, maybe it’s because they haven’t seen the Avatar yet, IDK. Anyways, once Grif understands what’s going on, he immediately becomes concerned about where his sister is. He runs off to find her, which Donut thinks that splitting up is good and Doc is left alone. Chrovos encourages him to unleash O’Malley, which he is dead against. Nevertheless, he goes forward.

Doc finds himself in Wash’s nightmare, where O’Malley starts to take over. He’s about to do what O’Malley does, but Doc tries to reign him in. The two argue, O’Malley telling Doc that without him, he is nothing and no one likes him and all that stuff. Doc’s response? That if he sucks, then O’Malley also sucks. He finally takes control, essentially becoming both himself and O’Malley and he rushes forward. Wash his prepping his gun, ready to avenge his dead friends… just in time to see that Doc has already done the job. Yes everyone, Doc got violent willingly AND now has full control over his O’Malley half. Doc has become a badass.

We now cut back to Sister, with her and Grif’s house now set ablaze. Grif runs in, asking why Kai is seeing their home. Sister reveals that it got burnt down. She didn’t start it and their mom is okay (but in a trailer park), but it happened and since Sister didn’t replace a smoke alarm, it couldn’t be saved. Grif… is pretty damn pissed, but Sister counters about how Grif left her and their mom. Grif counters that he had been drafted and starts yelling at her for allowing this to happen… before being knocked out by the real Grif. Yep, that was just The Labryinth, not the real deal. Sister is understandably confused as Grif explains what’s actually going on to her. Still, Sister feels terrible for the house burning down… but Grif isn’t upset at her nor does he blame her.

It is at this point that Grif comes clean about something. So you all know the draft story? The one that was said to be canon for all of these years? As it turns out, Grif had lied about it. He wasn’t drafted, he had enlisted just like he said he did back in the first episode and last season. Why? He had been tired of his life. He was tired of his circus performer mom and the lifestyle due to it, tired of having to take care of a younger sister, and he wanted to have more structure than what all of that and college could give him. In other words, he ran away from his problems and as a result, ran away from his own family. He hadn’t meant to, but he did and he had heard about the fire, but he said nothing because he couldn’t face Sister about it out of guilt. But he’s willing to talk about it now, whenever Sister wants too, if she’ll forgive him. Sister, while tearful, forgives him as Grif shoots his copy, ending the nightmare.

Soon, everyone else is freed. Wash and Doc save Sarge just as he’s being sent out to die. Sister and Grif go to save Simmons, Grif telling Sister that they keep whatever he’s seeing private. Simmons vision… is so terribly done and utter bullcrap that I refuse to talk about it in the overview. But he’s freed. Donut finds Tucker, who… seems fine and snapped out of it himself. That is until Donut sees his discarded sword on the ground and asks him to pick it up. After all, only Tucker can turn it on. The others arrive, Doc shooting the fake Tucker down. The real Tucker soon emerges, having passed out from a panic attack. Everyone regroups, and only Caboose and Carolina are left. They don’t have to search for Caboose though, he’s already freed. Well, it’s been proven that alien AI can't affect him, so alrighty. That leaves only Carolina.

As before, Carolina is still facing her past self who is saying that if her mom and dad were already dead and her efforts worthless, then that means that she is already dead. It’s beating Carolina down… until she sees Wash and the others. This is all that’s needed to make Carolina realize that she’s just speaking to a warped reflection, and she’s not going to let her stay int he way. Thus we get our one and only fight scene in the season... and it is badass. Kinda hard to review fight scenes, but trust me, it is awesome. It ends with Carolina being knocked down… but she still wins. The others surround past!Carolina, aiming their weapons at her as Wash supports the current Carolina. The Carolina who found a new family, found something worth fighting for instead of just herself, and how any one of them can end her past self with just the pull of a trigger.

The illusion dissolves, and the past!Carolina reveals their true form as the Avatar of the Labryinth. He is trying to do his job of not letting Chrovos be set free, so Donut reveals that they’re there to keep her in and if they were, he’d have done it while in the prison room. The Avatar thinks over this, just as Genkins arrives. But the Reds and Blues seem to be gone, but the Avatar has the golf club. Avatar questions Genkins intentions as the only one of his kin around that the golf club would work on is Chrovos. He puts two and two together and starts to pound Genkins, even breaking his holographic form. Worst, the Reds and Blues reappear, all with golf clubs. Genkins is mortified… before finally realizing how there can't be more than one and that he is being affected by The Labyrinth now.

Genkins knocks Avatar into the Black Hole, ending the vision. But he is at his limit. No matter what he’s tried, the Reds and Blues won’t die or stay down. It doens’t help when Dontu says that Lopez died… but Genkins says that cant be because he’d have felt it. It makes Donut realize that Lopez instead was looped back to the beginning of time, just like Huggins. And that’s a major revelation for Genkins, realizing that Huggins was how the Reds and Blues kept finding him. But this also gives him a new idea: to go back to the beginning of time and make it so that he can wipe out the Reds and Blues form existence. He leaps into the Black Hole, Donut stopping the others from intervening.

As it turns out, this was Donut’s plan and the Avatar reappears, complimenting him on it. So what happened? Well, Genkins succeeded in going back to the beginning of time and becoming a God. He became Chrovos… literally. He created the Cosmic Powers, became more corrupt, and he became the true Chrovos. But as a result, his kin turned on him, used the golf club and Hammer on him, and is how we got to where we are now. The present Chrovos is informed of this, and all things considered, she’s unhappy but takes it well overall. As such, Chrovos’ plan ultimately failed, and there is only one paradox remaining: Wash’s injury. Wash accepts it and is ready… but asks for the others to be there, so that he won’t be alone. They all go through the Everwhen as Chrovos watches the final crack disappear, ensuring that she is trapped forever.

We cut to the hospital, where Doc confirms that Wash is stable and will be okay, but he does indeed still have brain damage. The timeline is restored with seemingly everything from S16 having never happened. They can’t see him quite yet, but this time they can properly be there for him for these next few months. Grif suggests that they get pizza, which they get on him about but honestly I’m on his side. Donut opts out though, deciding that he wants to be on his own for a while and do some traveling. The season ends with them realizing that Lopez is gone… but that he had been sent back to the beginning of time, so he’s alive. And indeed, he shows u alive and well and has many things to tell… too bad that they can't understand him~

And thus, this episode along with Season 17, comes to a close.

Review

Fuck man, just…. Fuck. Where do I even begin with this?

So overall, decent finale. It felt a lot less cinematic and dramatic than the finale last year, but it still did all the things that a finale needed to do. It wrapped all the elements of the episode and the season and gave a bit of an abrupt, but fitting conclusion. It also leaves a LOT open for future writers. Wash having to deal with his brain damage, the others adjusting to the change, Donut going off on his own, the Cosmic Powers are still around, and even Chrovos can come back in the future. It ended things, but leaves plenty of room for the future, so that’s good.

There was a lot that I liked here. The best scene was Grif and Sister’s talk. It kinda retcons Grif’s draft story, but honestly… I am perfectly fine with that because this works so well. The two clearly love each other, but they’ve also always kinda felt distant and awkward. This explains it. Sister felt guilty for the fire, Grif felt guilty for leaving, and neither one knew how to address it until The Labryinth forced them to. With how badly I felt they dropped the ball with Grif, getting this moment was very nice and it does work around to his character arc of finally owning up to his problems and dealing with them instead of running from them. It also helps Sister be a more three-dimensional character and completes her shift from a last-second addition there for sex jokes to a true member of the cast. The moment was so well directed, written, and Geoff and Becca’s performances were as perfect as they were heartbreaking. I really loved this moment.

There was ome other good stuff too. Carolina vs Carolina, while not as creative as last year’s finale fight, was super badass and a perfect way to let Carolina bury the past for good… hopefully. Cause the ‘Carolina is guilty’ arcs are getting repetitive at this point. Genkins actually being Chrovos is a confusing mindfuck, but it kinda fits as a Hoist by His Own Petard story and certianly not what I was expecting. Even when he went back to the beginning, he still ultimately failed to defeat the Reds and Blues and sealed his own defeat. I guess that present Chrovos was imprisoned for so long that she forgot about all of that… which makes sense considering how long she was imprisoned. I’m pretty much okay with the twist, even if it was a mindscrew. And I am glad that they didn’t chicken out of keeping Wash brain damaged. It sucks, but it just feels wrong to do away with that because it’s not how it works It’s part of his character now, and now he has to live with it. But he won’t be alone. He’s proven that he can handle a lot of bullshit, and this time he’s ready for it. I’m proud of him.

It wasn't all perfect, mind you. The reveal was still a confusing mindfuck and essentially retconned S16 out fo existence. I guess they all still have their memories, but I just don’t like that… plus it means that Grif never got a sword. Hey guys, fix that next season, please. Oh and Simmons nightmare was complete and utter bullshit and I hated it. At least Grif’s despite being mostly a joke you could kinda fit it for his character and he got his scene with Sister. But how does losing his penis to aliens enhance Simmons character in any way? Yeah no,t hat was terrible and I really, really hope that Simmons is given a better storyline next season. Maybe even let him be the hero next season since he’s never really gotten the chance. Just saying. Also, the ending was kind of abrupt, but they still wrapped up the important bits, so I’m okay with that.

Is it the best finale? No. S13 and 16 were gonna be pretty damn hard to beat though. I’d say it’s average but does its job well enough. And my anger about Simmons aside, I really enjoyed the finale. It also really does a great job at concluding Donut’s arc. There isn’t really a moment of them acknowledging that DOnut did well, which is a tad annoying, but he still proved to the viewers what he was capable of. He saved the universe and in a damn pretty clever way. Him leaving is a bummer, but he deserves it and I’m sure that he’ll come back. Very least, he feels accepted back into the group and I don’t blame him for wanting some space after everything. Overall, I’m super proud of Donut and whoever is in charge of writing is gonna have to keep it up. No more of relegating him to just the innuendo guy people… but a few are okay! DOn’t want to throw it out completely XD

Final Thoughts

As I said, decent enough finale with a few things I didn’t care for, but it overall wrapped things up. I’ll have more details about my thoughts on the season as a whole in my season review… which is currently 11 pages long and not done yet, so I’ll have to half it. But both parts should be up by tonight. But either way, I had so much fun reviewing the season as well as watching it. I will sure as Hell be back to do S18, and of course, I’ll be doing RWBY V7 when that starts. I’m also considering doing dome more RvB Commentary Masterposts since people seemed to like the S16 one (which one for S17 will be done when the DVD is out) and I’ll be writing another masterpost on the RvB panel at RTX. I have to watch it on a stream since I can't go (/SOBS/) but be on the lookout for it.

Well… as a wise pig once said, that’s all folks! thank you for reading, and I’ll see you all for my Season Review! Hope you’ll enjoy~!

#rvb #rvb17 #rvb spoilers #rvb reviews #callie reviews

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cheekymochiiii · 5 years

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100 Year’s Quest Chapter 18-20 Tea Time

*camera pans to me sleeping on loveseat only to be woken up by my producer throwing a mug at my face*

Me: Mother*beep*! damn it Craig you *beep*! throw that at my mother *beep* face again and I’ll cut your *beep* off and shove it up your—

*screen displays message that says: please stand by*

*screen returns and shows me sitting with my cup of tea cool as a cucmber*

Me: *clears throat* Sorry about that. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately and as a result I’ve been *says through gritted teeth while glaring at Craig* very irritable.*relaxes* I realize I haven’t aired any shows since Chapter 17, but if you haven’t read the new chapter of Fairy Tail’s 100 Year Quest then that is your fault and I’m not bothering to put a spoiler warning right now. Despite my doubts to having a guest on today’s tea time, production—I mean I thought it would be best to have one anyway. Today we’ve got someone who is on Team Natsu and has had a front row seat to all the exciting *beep* that’s been happening in chapters 18-20.

Me: *gesutres to side of stage* Please audience give a warm welcome to the little braveheart Wendy Marvell!

Wendy: *walks in waving with her cute smile* Hi everyone it’s good to see you all!

Me: *admiring her adorable innocence and then remembers I have a show to shoot * Thank you so much for coming on the show Wendy it means the world to me.

Wendy: Well I heard from Panther Lily and Carla that you’re really...*hesitates to find right word* passionate.

Me: Awe that is a very accurate word to describe me, especially considering I’m a Pisces but sometimes I’m an Aquarius. It depends which website you read but for the most part I identify myself as a Pisces more than an Aquarius.

Wendy: *confused* you don’t look like two fish to me or like the terrifying Aquarius I know.

Me: *laughs at her innocence* actually Wendy here in my world our zodiac signs are given to us based on the month and day we are born in. Each zodiac is given a season in the year.

Wendy: then what happens?

Me: absolutely nothing. zodiacs are basically there just to make excuses for ourselves and how we act.

Wendy: so it’s like...alcohol?

Me: *considers this and shrugs* I mean you’re not wrong. Anyway we’re getting way off topic. Let’s focus back on what’s been happening in your world or at least in chapters 18-20. Most of these chapters were pretty *beep* short so there’s that but I’ll take whatever dose of Fairy Tail I can get.

*production tells me in my ear piece I need to stop cursing due to Tumblr restrictions and reminds me I could get flagged for being inappropriate again*

Me: *states outloud* that’s what the beeps are for you mother *beeps*

*production slaps forehead*

Me: Sorry for that interruption Wendy. My producers are being a bunch of *beep*

Wendy: *stunned at language*

Me: *continues casually* I’m not going to focus too much on Chapter 18 because I’ve already briefly talked about it in my last show. I want to give a simple summary of it. For starters I want to talk about you Wendy and what a bad *beep* you were for being able to find a spell that allowed the non-dragon slayers of Team Natsu to actually do some harm to the dragons y’all will be fighting. Naturally, I’m curious about how obtained this spell but I’m assuming you nor the creators will be willing to share that information with me.

Wendy: *genuine tone* I’m really sorry but I can’t share that.

Me: Coming from you, I’m okay with it. So Team Natsu is officially in the battle with the Water God Dragon and boy are y’all struggling. He’s just really letting y’all have it with his magic and this is still only the first dragon y’all have to defeat for this quest.

Wendy: This Quest will definitely be the hardest one I’ve ever had to do.

Me: You guys have been through so much you barely got a breather.

Wendy: I like the adventures with my friends though. It makes my life more full.

Me: Awe

Audience: Awe

Readers: Awe

Me: You are so precious Wendy and you need to be protected at all times. I’m getting off topic again. Chapter 18. Team Natsu. Battle with Water God Dragon. *stops short statements* I mean, that’s basically it. *remmebers* oh yeah Touka defeated all of your guild mates back in Magnolia.

Wendy: I know I was worried about them too. I still am since you guys haven’t figured out what happens.

Me: *waves and says nonchalantly* I’m sure by the next chapter we will. *wonders internally have I been spelling Touka’s name wrong this whole time?*

Wendy: What makes your so sure?

Me: We’ve been focused a lot on Team Natsu these last few chapters, so I’m going to assume with the screaming-into-pillow ending the creators gave us. The scenery will most likely change come next chapter. Anyway, now it’s Chapter 19 and we are still worried about the favorite team in the world, Team Natsu. Y’all are putting up a good fight but it’s not doing much good. In fact, Natsu tries very hard with all kinds of new and secret spells he’s been holding back from us to defeat the Water God Dragon. However, it nearly becomes too much for our favorite pink haired weirdo hero and he begins to be sucked up into a deadly looking whirlpool created by the Water God Dragon.

Wendy: *nods at the memory* I remember. We were all worried about what was going to happen to Natsu.

Me: *sideglances* even Lucy?

Wendy: *doesnt get what I’m hinting at* yes of course she’s always worried about Natsu on missions and if he might get hurt. Natsu too. They both want to protect each other.

Me: *grinning* most interesting *sips tea* Natsu nearly gets sucked into the whirlpool when ta-dah! *makes spirit fingers* a scaley hand snatched Natsu from it. I had a strong feeling from that ending that the hand was extremely reminiscent of a certain dragon we all love...loved.

Wendy: *nods solemnly* Natsu’s father Igneel. All of us lost our parents that day too unfortunately but not in the same way Natsu lost his tragically.

Me: *trying not to cry* I hear that *sniffles* so that’s how we are left in Chapter 19 those bastard creators. *pauses* hey why wasn’t that bleeped?

*production informs me that bastard isn’t that bad of a word compared to the ones I had been using and reminds audience that this show is for mature audiences only despite the bleeped out words because beeping everything is a struggle for the editing team*

Me: okay now it’s on to the most recent update, Chapter 20. We find out that scaley hand that rescued Natsu is indeed a dragon! We, being the readers, also notice how incredibly and unmistakingly similar this dragon and Igneel look.

Wendy: We were all honestly terrified when this dragon revealed himself. We didn’t know whether he was there to help or hurt us.

Me: Understandable I mean look at that thing. However we find out he’s mostly there to motivate Natsu to defeat the Water God Dragon and ultimately decides the best way to help Natsu is to set the fish city on fire using its own fire. While this seemed discouraging the dragon wants Natsu to consume the fire so it will help him defeat the Water God Dragon. The dragon also says he wants to fight Natsu at his best himself. So why does this mysterious Igneel-looking dragon want to help Natsu and also fight and defeat Natsu? Well that’s what the big reveal of this chapter was.

Me: *takes dramatic pause*

Wendy: *smiles knowingly*

Audience: *holds breath*

Readers: *yawns*

Me: *SHOUTS* ITS IGNEEL’S MOTHER *BEEP* SON YALL. *STANDS UP CAUSING TEA TO SPILL* HIS “TRUE” SON. AND BOIIIIII I’D BE LYIN IF I SAID THAT BOI AINT FINE BECAUSE HE IS ONE GOOD LOOKIN DUDE. I MEAN DO YALL SEE THOSE TATTOOS?!? ALSO WHAT THE *BEEP* DOES THIS MEAN? HES A FIRE GOD DRAGON! HO-LY HELL

Wendy: *nervously sips her tea and realizes why Panther Lily and Carla called Me intense*

Me: *still raging* I JUST CANT BELIEVE IT! I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING AND IVE GOT A FEELING ITS GONNA BE GOOD *relaxes and sits back down* Just wow Wendy I cant wait for what this Quest has in store for us because we are only 20 chapters in and it’s been ridiculous.

Wendy: *still smiling* I know it’s an exciting quest and adventure that truly tests the feelings, will, and strength of our team.

Me: *tearing up* I can only imagine. I can’t wait to get to the end of this long and winding road but I also want it to last forever because I don’t want Fairy Tail to end.

Wendy: *stunned* what do you mean, end?

Me: *saddened* we originally weren’t going to find out what happened to y’all on the 100 Year’s Quest but then, thanks to this super cool and awesome fandom, we were able to push the creators to continue the manga.

Wendy: Wow we really owe a lot to our fandom then

Me: *nods respectingly* yes yes we do. I know I owe a lot to my followers here on the blog, er, show.

Wendy: Why’s that?

Me: Apparently 500 people like my blog, I mean show, enough to follow me for every time I post something new. *begins meaningful speech* I couldn’t be more happy or thankful for every single one of them. I never imagined I would have this many followers because I started with 0 followers and had no connections or friends on here who already had followers and give shout outs to me, right away of course, but now people seem to like what I post and I literally couldn’t be more thankful for them. I post for them.

Wendy: *tearful* that was a really lovely speech.

Me: thanks Wendy. I suppose I should make an edit dedicated to all of them.

Wendy: that’s a nice gift and very kind of you.

Me: no *shakes head and looks off into the distance* how kind of them.

To be continued...

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gotov-otvechat-blog · 6 years

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So much more than ‘enough’

pairing: Peter x Reader

word count: 2,369

request: Can I request a peter parker x reader where the reader is having some personal weight issues (like being to big In their opinion) and they stop eating. And peter starts to take notice in the readers health? And peter gets upset? Just alot of angst…but I would love it if you’d write this! Thank you beautiful! 💖💘💕 @ nevaehsuga

warnings: this may have triggers, as the reader does not have a good body image. some angst. some bad writing and swearing this may be very cliche and i apologize, however this is for you lovely, :) enjoy

masterlist

It was another regular Monday, but you got a really cute shirt to go with your jeans over the weekend. As you put on your outfit you noticed one thing. Your jeans were too small for you. You were equally perplexed and shocked, as these were relatively new jeans that you got just a few months ago. This caused you to be worried on some extent, however you brushed it off, thinking maybe the jeans had shrunk in the wash or whatever.

Over the weeks you would notice how your things would become too small, and you had to buy new things that were a few sizes larger. You had always been quite slim your entire life so this change created quite an anxiety for you, making you more and more self-conscious by the day.

Just walking down the corridor with your boyfriend, Peter Parker, and you felt so much larger, compared to all the other slim girls in your grade. You are so fat compared to them, you thought, this is probably why Peter was getting busier and rarely comes over to see you. There are so many girls prettier than you, skinnier, smarter.

Your own mind was beating you down; you had to do something.

Your mom usually worked early shifts at the hospital, so it wasn’t hard to skip breakfast. You still ate just a little bit of lunch, so that Peter and Ned didn’t notice what you were doing. You skipped dinners, telling your mom that you already ate earlier before she came home from work. She didn’t at all find that strange, as she occasionally also took the night shift too; extra money couldn’t hurt anyone could it?

You were starving but you were still losing weight, so the thought of becoming the weight you were before outmatched the grumbling of your stomach. Now slowly you were losing a few pounds. At first it was a week, now it was two. At least you could fit back into some of your old clothes. You know it wasn’t good to do this for a long time, but a couple of weeks couldn’t hurt, right? Besides you ate a banana every time you were too tired or hungry, so you still were kind of eating.

One evening May had invited you to dinner, and you couldn’t say no as you were studying with Peter for English, because Peter sucked at it and he also had an test two days later while English was a subject you practically had superpowers in (you were a book nerd). May invited you to your favorite restaurant, as we all know May cant cook, and after not eating for so long you were practically carving something to eat.

“So how are things, Y/N? Peter has been quite busy with the Stark Internship, so guys didn’t have much time to hang out,” May asked you, curious to know about how you’ve been.

“I’m good, quite busy with my Art project actually,” you said, your stomach churning by the second you put food in your stomach. “How have you been May? Peter not too much trouble?” you teased, trying to cover up that you might throw up any moment.

“Well he’s a teenage boy so there goes that, but overall things are great, I had a change in my shift so I don’t have to get up so early in the morning now.”

“-Sorry, would you excuse me for a moment please.” You rushed out to the bathroom. Holding y with one hand and your other hand around your stomach you retched everything that went into your stomach out. You felt even worse than you had before. Your stomach was empty, there was a tear running down your cheek, and a volatile taste of vomit lingered in your mouth. You stood up on shaking legs, fatigue and sweat overwhelming your body. The cool water soothed you a bit as you washed your face. Taking a deep breath you calmed yourself down, put on a bit of makeup that you had before so that nothing would be different. This is for the better, you thought, I’ll be skinnier and prettier, so Peter won’t be ashamed to call me his girlfriend. You gave yourself a weak smile in the mirror, as a few sharp nocks rang out from the door.

“Hey, sweetheart, is everything okay?” Peter’s concerned voice woken you back to reality as you replied back to him.

“Yeah, everything’s okay, don’t worry Peter, I’ll be right out.”

A week later on a Friday afternoon, you, Peter and Ned had a movie marathon night, during which May cooked a dinner that ultimately went to trash, not surprising anyone.

You guys ordered pizza, which you didn’t eat, saying that you had a full lunch. Ned shrugged but still gave you an absurd look, knowing that you probably loved pizza more than life. However Peter gave you a longer, lingering questioning look, which made you squirm just a little. Nevertheless this was soon forgotten after the movie started.

Peter opened his arms, and you crawled into them with a moment of hesitation, a toxic thought of if Peter thought that you were too fat or heavy. You lay in front of him with his arm under your neck playing with your hand and the other was softly brushing through your hair. Peter’s smell overwhelmed you and the soothing movements of your hand were lulling you to sleep.

You snoozed, and when you woke up the next movie was already playing, Ned wasn’t there-presumably went home as he had a curfew. You really needed the bathroom, so you stood up as carefully as you could without bothering Peter. As you started walking you abruptly became dizzy, your head spinning, and your stomach now throbbing fervently. Your legs became weak, and your vision blurred. Your knees gave out and you fell to the ground with a thud, startling Peter into awareness.

“Y/N? No, no no,” Peter called out as he ran over to you, “hey, Y/N look at me, wake up.”

You gave out no response, fear seeping into Peter as he carried you to his bed.

“What happening to you? Why won’t you talk to me?” Peter muttered to you, stroking your hair.

You groaned as you were gaining consciousness. You had fainted before, but never in front of anyone, nor did you hit your head hard enough to crack it before.

“Y/N?”

“Where am I?” you moaned, reaching with your hand to touch your head where you hit it. You were lying down in bed that had an unknown smell to you, but it felt like home. Your head and neck were propped up with two pillows and under you was a soft blanket in red and blue patterns. In front of you was sitting a handsome cute looking guy, who had a very fearful look on his face. His hair was in soft curls, and was sticking up a bit as if he had run his hands through in a few times in agitation. His eyes were a soft honey brown color, kind and warm, the kind that would make your heart melt. Whatever the case was, you did not understand why you were in strange bed, with a boy before you and a throbbing skull.

“Hey, we were having movie night remember? With Ned? May made inconsumable dinner that went to trash so we ordered your favorite pizza, remember? You fell asleep on me,” Peter rambled on, his large soft brown eyes agitatedly searching yours.

You couldn’t remember anything at all. Not the school you went to, not what your best friend looked like, but worst of all you didn’t remember who the beautiful boy fretting about you was. And it made your heart ache, even though you had though no idea why.

Staring at him blankly, you could see his heart break, feeling his pain as a tear strolled down his face. All you wanted was to take his pain away.

“What did you do to yourself?” he muttered to himself, his hand still stroking your cheek. Your mind didn’t remember him, but your heart did, and so it longed to be in his arms, and it kind of scared you.

“Do you remember your name?” he queried gently.

“Yes.”

Your voice was quiet, almost incoherent.

“Do you remember what you like to drink in the mornings, what your favorite song was and why it was your favorite? Or what you loved to do to embarrass me, or what you would do when you thought Ned and I were being stupid?” His voice was on the verge of agony, pain seeping through any movement he made.

However your blank stare seemed to kill him a little bit more, if that were possible

“Do you remember me?” the words came out as a croak, but his voice was beginning to come back to you.

You stared at him for a bit, watching another tear slip down his face at your silence, feeling your heart rupture once again for reasons unknown to you.

“P-Peter?”

He let out a large sigh of relieve, clutching your hand in his as he kissed your knuckles.

“What happened to you? What did you do to yourself?” His voice was desperate for answers, so much that you could still see how much he needed an explanation.

“It was nothing I just slipped and hit my head, so I passed out.” Your voice was so weak that you couldn’t believe yourself.

“Please don’t lie to me. You stopped eating lunch, you just pushed it round your plate. You couldn’t keep your dinner down when we went out to eat, and I thought that maybe you felt sick so then I would have taken you home and stayed with you, but you came out of the bathroom saying you were fine, while your legs were shaking and you were paler than snow. And today we ordered your favorite pizza and you didn’t even have a single slice, when normally you would eat the entire thing by yourself and would fight anyone if they tried to steal some. Now you can’t even stand. Please don’t lie to me sweetheart. Please.” The anguish in his voice now completely destroyed you. It made your heart stop at how much hurt you caused him.

“I stopped eating, because I gained weight and the more I saw those prettier girls in our grade, the more I thought I wasn’t good enough. I thought I was fat and ugly and just too big. You rarely ever spend time with me anymore, and we never go on dates, and it thought it was me and maybe you would prefer someone prettier and skinnier and smarter than me, like Liz and-“ your rambling was cut off by a slightly pissed off Peter.

“I thought you knew but now I know you don’t. Listen to me. There is no one else that I would want. You are stunning, and you aren’t just good enough. You are the best. You are so much more than ‘enough’. You are the most beautiful girl I have laid eyes on, yes. But I didn’t fall in love with you because you were beautiful. I fell in love you because you are kind, smart, headstrong, and because you were there for anyone who needed you. I fell in love with the girl who would buy a cup of tea and a cookie for the homeless man playing a trombone, because you thought no one deserved to live on the streets with no one with them, even though that meant you had to walk home because that money was your way home. I fell in love with the girl who would sit with new kid just because you didn’t want them sitting alone. You are gorgeous on the outside, but you are absolutely and completely disarming and bewitching on the inside.” His eyes were fierce, showing just how important it was for him that you understood him. They were also radiating affection and love.

“But-“

“No buts. I love you just how you are. To me, you are flawless.”

Your eyes widened as you registered what he said to you.

“You love me?”

“With every thing I have.”

Tears leaked from your eyes, as you still couldn’t believe what he said to you.

Peter softly wiped them away with his thumbs before kissing you on your forehead, both cheeks, and finally his lips landed on yours in a soft chaste loving kiss.

“Now that you know, lets go downstairs and feed you with some soup and nurse you back to health.” There was still pain in his eyes as he asked you one more question.

“How long?”

You cast your eyes down not wanting to look in his eyes as you answered his question.

“Three weeks.”

He let out a breath.

“Promise me. Promise me that you will never do something like this ever again. Promise me that you wont harm yourself on purpose again. It hurts me that you would ever do something like that. Promise me that you will never change for someone else’s benefit.”

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” Peter breathed out, relieved.

With an arm around you, Peter tried helped you stand up, however you were too weak, and stumbled.

“Fuck it.” Before you could ask, you let out a small shriek as Peter hoisted you up in his arms, and carried you to the living room bridal style.

“Besides, you’re not ‘big’ or ‘fat’ Y/N. When things get heated they expand, and so you are hot. Incredibly hot,” Peter murmured.

“That was so awful, Parker,” you giggled into his neck.

“I made you laugh,” you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Also you are very comfortable to cuddle with. Can you imagine trying to cuddle with those skinny girls? It’ll be like trying to sleep on Mount Everest. Hard and rocky and cold.”

You giggled once again as he set you down on the sofa. Something wasn’t right. How could your skinny lanky Peter be able to carry you with not so much as a grunt?

“Peter.”

“Yeah”

“How are you so strong?”

“shit.”

#Peter Parker x plus sized!reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #plus size!reader #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman

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kosmicdream · 6 years

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The Bizarre Pacing of Feast For a King

I WROTE ANOTHER LITTLE JOURNAL THING ABOUT MY COMIC enjoy

Feast for a king, right now, is around 4350 pages long. (A bit more than that, especially if you include the 80 page bonus chapter) but one thing about this story that stands out and ultimately becomes one of the biggest deciding factors of a readers enjoyment is the way I handle pacing.

Besides the ‘rough’ artwork, its absolutely the #1 thing people comment on. Disorienting, Rambling or meandering, it very much encapsulates a style that you would not typically find in a comic. It promotes an atmosphere of, obviously lacking an ‘editor’ who would attempt to reel things in or get to the point. As its creator, I’m very aware with how strange it is but that’s exactly one of the reason why I attempt to commit to it. I allow myself this strange liberty to participate in this comic in a format that is very revealing of all my flaws.. but also helps me discover my strengths as well. And besides that, it really gives me the most clear window of the possibilities of my skills.

Still at this point in my comic creating process, I start to hesitate to call this format experimental anymore. I understand that it is, but it also just.. is how I like to make comics. By calling it experimental, i find that I take myself a little less seriously as an artist. Or that it becomes a little more easy to put down what makes this process work and why its effective.

In the eyes of many, it breaks necessary boundaries and there’s not a lot pause for air. Its just like this, the entire way that it goes. Its something you must confront and deal with in order to read the story. I think that in a way, I use this pacing also as a protective wall for myself. The only problem is that it also isolates me from a larger audience. Which kind of sucks because, i think that my story is very special and i’d love for more people to read it because.. id.. like to make this my career and support me. I’m sure there are a lot of other aspects of my comic that make it hard to read besides the pacing but, I think that my pacing is something that I’d like to address in more detail as to why i do it. It IS absolutely an intentional choice, but at the same time, I’m not sure if its a choice I can really undo anymore. So perhaps its actually just something I can’t help but do.

1) The largest reason that I do this pacing is because its reflective of my main source of inspiration, Roleplaying! And, my favorite method of roleplaying is actually a very simple format close to chat-based style. I’ve been roleplaying since i was 11 and making characters and stories ever since. Its where I feel more comfortable working and exploring ideas. I wanted to make a comic feel like how I do when I roleplay. And how i roleplay is often filled with mundane, small scenes of almost pointless activities which end up really building that atmosphere or illusion that these characters are always living their lives somewhere, even if we don’t notice. I’m obsessed with documenting all that small boringness. The more i can pull out of myself, the better it feels. I feel like its a reward to get to see those things, and its the kind of attention to detail that often hooks me in when I experience other media. Its like, oh my god, i love this character fussing with a flashlight or looking for food at a grocery store. Tying their shoes. Fussing over their thoughts in a moment. These are things I cling to and want to take the time to mention. You can do all those in roleplaying without it being super distracting because its casual, but suddenly when its in the format of a comic it just-- doesn’t seem necessary. and it isnt. but thats why its such a treat to get it. But it also just stops being a treat when its constant, and instead, its all the time. Its just the normal standard. You’d think that make its loose its appeal... but for me i just, want more of it. Its really an obsessive hunger. I realized that i could do it this way in a comic and I never wanted it to stop. And i dont have to. That’s what makes it so cool but i feel like..im cheating at something by having so much..fun?

2) Meandering gives you plenty of fucking time to plan ahead. Oh it sure as fuck does. Oh my god. I am not even kidding. The satisfaction of feeling like I’ve got all my plans together because I spent hundreds of pages of my characters fucking around (sometimes literally FUCKING around) is amazing. I love just not having to worry about shit for a while because if i was hitting all these huge story beats at all the time, i think I would evaporate and miss out on just the slow, happy experience of getting to know my world so intimately and feeling very comfortable with how it unfolds. I sit and debate on things and Its like ahh, thank god I don’t feel a rush to get around to do anything. I love just being chill and drawing my characters walking around and doing fucking nothing but walking around and its like damn I could be walking around right now too, but I’m not. They are. What am i typing right now?

When exciting things happen in my comic, I love it. But i also love working by making basically mental buffer pages. Its like the camera kept rolling and following the crew around. Once again, basically ties into the “mundane” aspect, but it just gives a very nice satisfaction of not feeling rushed to do anything until its time to do it. personally, i think that if we are given more time with characters, even just by seeing there, we get a little more fonder of them. Like seeing a regular at a coffee shop or like, a video game npc bouncing around in the corner in the same spot for the entire game. They’re there and its a reliable landmark. Until it goes away. :)

3) Pay off. I’ve lulled you all into this false sense of mundane non changing-ism. Just think though. I could pull that fucking rug out at any time and all those little cute moments suddenly become very upsetting because that was all you got. It sucks now. See? I’ve manipulated you from the start and ive planted the little seeds in your mind-just kidding. everything is fine and no one will ever experience sad things in ffak. ONLY happy endings.

4) What’s the forth reason? Ummmmm....... I can take breaks from my own comic and then go into the past of the same story, or write about some random character... and then like. just do a totally different comic for a bit. and no one can say i cant do that, because if Its just what i wanna do you just.. get to see some of that. and i can extend one single day for as long as i want. i might just draw an entire chapter about sneezy the worm if i wanted. 600 pages of sneezy the worm. you want to hear about sneezy the worm? no? you want the main plot about the final feast? no fuck you.. im going to talk about sneezy now. that’s what you get. yesss. you look upset now but just wait, you’re gonna love sneezy the worm when I’m done and you cant escape caring about cute little worms no matter what.

So to wrap up today’s delirious ramblings 1) Its fun and i love small character moments 2) gives me plenty of time to write ahead and figure out endings lol 3) potential heart breaking pay offs when i change the routine 4) freedom to do whatever and write about whatever characters without a looming deadline or judgment from bosses. this is just what i love to do.

FFAK’s process is strange but I intend to enjoy myself as much as possible. I also think I’m very great because the longer i work the less ashamed i feel about my choices with writing and making it this way. its just like oh cool, i can do this and its not the end of the world if everyone doesnt like it cause I like it and thats what matters. and turns out, my happiness results in thousands of pages because I’m constantly self-motivated. So its fucking cool as shit and i love drawing. I love drawing more now in 2018 than i did when i was a teenager, or even a kid. Its so weird how much better and fun the experience has grown to be and I wouldnt trade that for the world.

Anyway thanks for reading. I’m drinking a frappichino. frappuccino. how do you fucking spell that.

-kosmic

#feast for a king #ffak faq #ffak #journal

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ghostbustershq · 3 years

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Out Today, Randy Edelman's 1989 Ghostbusters II Score Album!

The wait is over! After 30+ years of fans wondering if they’ll ever get an official release of Randy Edelman’s bouncy and jovial score to Ghostbusters II, today is the day! Sony Masterworks has remastered and released 16 tracks, including three that have been newly recorded and one scored for the film but not ultimately used.

Stay tuned to the HQ for an in-depth analysis of the score, we’ll be doing our best impression of David Collins soon and trying to line up some of the cues with the film to see what and where material was unused or altered in post production.

And don’t forget the vinyl release hits October 16th. As previously mentioned here on the site, there are glow-in-the-dark Barnes and Noble and Mondo exclusives forthcoming. Stay tuned for more information on those as it develops.

In the meantime, here’s much more information from the good folks at Sony Masterworks:

GHOSTBUSTERS II

ORIGINAL MOTION PICTURE SCORE BY RANDY EDELMAN

AVAILABLE TO STREAM FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER & ON CD TODAY

SCORE TO THE 1989 FILM CLASSIC WILL ALSO BE AVAILABLE FOR THE FIRST TIME ON VINYL BEGINNING FRIDAY, OCTOBER 15 – PREORDER NOW

NEW YORK, NY – For the first time ever and 32 years after the film’s 1989 release, the Original Score to Ghostbusters II is now available to stream and on CD format today from Sony Classical – LISTEN HERE. Featuring score music by award-winning musician, producer and composer Randy Edelman, the 16-track album includes original recordings of the film classic’s score as well as 3 newly re-recorded tracks and an additional song originally recorded by Edelman for the film but not featured in its final production. The album will also be available in vinyl format beginning Friday, October 16, arriving as a gatefold set featuring photos from the film – PREORDER HERE.

Of the score, composer RANDY EDELMAN says, “In Ghostbusters II, the characters and storyline were expertly conceived and then acted in the sequel brilliantly. The story took place a few years later, but in a sense each character already had a distinct personality, which hadn’t changed a bit. In a way, they carried their own music and soul with them. Their interactions in each scene would determine if musical accompaniment was necessary, and, in most cases, it was not. The new storyline and menace the city of New York was facing, the dark nature of the evil Carpathian, that was where this score would be most urgent. That and the supernatural, explosive and inventive methods of the group of our forward-thinking pals, was where the heart of my score would and should lie. Though I had watched and thoroughly loved the original film several years before, I decided not to view it during my involvement with the sequel. I knew I needed to carefully sculpt a musical palette for this new specific screenplay and did not reference any aspect of the original movie, trying to give Ghostbusters II a well-deserved, new color all its own. I will always appreciate the fact that this decision of mine was never once questioned.”

Speaking of his collaborators to the project, Randy continues, “Upon looking back at any score after so many years, a composer is surely cognizant of those who they were surrounded by, in a process that is always so challenging in many ways. In the case of the sequel to Ghostbusters, I was working on one of my first large scale orchestral works and one that followed the great success of the first movie. I was assisted by the great orchestrator, Mr. Greig McRitchie, music editor Kathy Durning, and engineers Elton Ahi and Robert Fernandez. I have elsewhere here thanked [Director] Ivan Reitman for a stern, yet assuring hand, in his direction at all times, and his confidence in trusting me totally throughout the always delicate process. The large orchestra gave me a spiritual high at each session, and I thank all the wonderful players who participated and lent their talent to my efforts. I got to revisit a few thematic moments for this collection, and it was a blast to be able to do that. It brought back all those incredible memories, and made that magic happen right now, once more. How lucky to experience it over again – I am one fortunate piano player!”

ABOUT RANDY EDELMAN

Music royalty with a career challenging the longevity that rivals the Queen of England, composer, conductor, singer and celebrated piano phenomena Randy Edelman has long been given tribute as one of the most profound and recognizable film, television, and sports soundtrack architects on the planet. A hybrid fusion of Mozart and Bruce Springsteen, there seems to be a certain bedazzlement or wizardry connected to him and his music that leaves a trail of glitter behind never to be forgotten.

Raised in Teaneck New Jersey, Randy was born with the ability to hear music and transcribe it onto the piano. After a brief quarrel with fate where Randy was temporally thrust into the pursuit of pre-med, he moved into full-time piano and composition study at the Cincinnati Music Conservatory where he was then able to follow his unquestionable destiny. He eventually procured an arranging assignment at James Brown’s King Records. In 1970 Randy relocated to New York to work as a staff writer at CBS Records while simultaneously playing piano in Broadway pit orchestras.

Like a seductive alchemist Randy began to write and record his own albums transforming the world’s anguish into a narrative of truth and granting him a thriving audience in the UK and a television spot on “Top of the Pops.” After enjoying the triumph of the British collective effervescence at the London Palladium and Drury Lane Theatre, Randy began to pursue a new interest in LA where he became interested in creating the life, blood and essence of the movies through music, making the plainest faces come alive with promise.

Randy is responsible for creating an endless cascade of many of the world’s most known soundtracks including: Ghostbusters II, 27 Dresses, While You Were Sleeping, The Last of the Mohicans, Kindergarten Cop, Dragonheart, XXX, Twins, My Cousin Vinny, The Mask, Beethoven, Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story, Anaconda, Mummy 3, Gettysburg, Billy Madison, Leap Year, The Whole Nine Yards, EdTV, Daylight and an endless array of others. Some of the television shows and series he scored include: MacGyver, Mr. Sunshine, Backdraft 2 for Netflix, and Citizen X for HBO. These credits only touch the surface of his accomplishments. He has also created the music for “Dare Mighty Things” for NASA’s final Shuttle launch, “Wimbledon, Grand Slam Tennis Series” for ESPN, “ESPN Sports Century,” and even the NBC “on air” Olympic Theme, of which he has celebrated over 20 years of Olympic themed glory keeping the musical flame alive.

Aside from crafting and orchestrating the scores that gave life to the films, a myriad of artists have covered and recorded Randy’s original songs from his solo albums. Included in that catalog is Barry Manilow’s “Weekend in New England,” The Carpenters’ “I Cant Make Music” and Nelly’s “My Place,” reaching Number 1 on the Billboard Hip Hop charts. Others include Willie Nelson’s “Down in the Everglades,” Patti LaBelle’s “Isn’t it a Shame,” Olivia Newton John’s “If Love is Real,” Blood, Sweat & Tears’ “Blue Street,” Royal Philharmonic’s “Grey,” and a list that continues endlessly. Randy has also opened live in breathtaking arenas for icons such as Frank Zappa and The Carpenters.

Randy has also received some of the most prestigious awards including BMI Top Grossing Film Awards, BMI’s highest honor, the Richard Kirk Award for Outstanding Career Achievement, the Lifetime Achievement Award in Film Scoring and Composition, the Best Accolade from the Los Angeles Film Awards, an Honorary Doctorate of Fine Arts and an Emmy for the close of the Olympic Broadcast.

Like a musical Chameleon, Randy continues to compose and record, lighting up the world like fireworks plunging into the night sky and shattering the darkness. The grand composer of modern and future times has just released his highly anticipated anthemic song of hope and inspiration titled “Comin’ Out the Other Side.” The single is now available worldwide via Soho Records. The song promotes an epidemic of joy and happiness as a grand finale to a time best forgotten….

He continues to work on the score for his musical, “Short Cut,” telling of the construction of the Panama Canal. Most recently Sony Masterworks is releasing Randy Edelman’s orchestral score to Ghostbusters II in all formats....

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ithisatanytime · 3 years

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i deny the holocaust

Most of the “EVIDENCE” is witness testimony gathered during the nuremberg trials, and those were a fucking joke and everyone knew it. the “confessions” are now known to have been extracted via testicular torture, which is like regular torture but they torture your fucking balls, many of them had shattered testicles and all of them suffered beatings during interrogations. which sure fine if they were cold blooded murderers of 6 million innocent people, but the holocaust narrative is psychically impossible, and frankly, stupid. incinerating the bodies the way they say, is impossible, literally impossible, and there are testimonies given of bodies cremated regularly in under a half hour, which is fucking absurd. with modern tech, under ideal conditions, it takes over an hour, and then there is maintenance that needs to be done, and when i say an hour i mean from the time the furnace turns on until the body is reduced to ash, and cremation technology has come a long way in the eighty years since the holocaust never happened. with modern technology, under ideal circumstances, meaning you dont even have to load bodies in, or clean out the furnaces or maintain them, again with MODERN technology, it would have taked no less than 30 years to do what they said was done in 4. its beyond impossible, its actually ridiculous, and this is when you give the narrative every conceivable advantage.

There were tons of jewish concentration camp survivors who were interviewed by steven spielburg for his film schindlers list, their interviews were used as part of a making of documentary. they left out the dozens of “death camp” survivors who described the death camps as work camps, where no one was gassed, and they were treated rather fairly, there was even currency printed specifically for the deathcamps so that they would get paid for their work, there were hospitals that treated the ill (both of the most famous first hand accounts of the holocaust, “Night” and “the diary of anne frank include accounts of jews being treated for illnesses at on site hospitals, not experimented on just treated) which makes sense if you are running a work camp, and makes no sense if you are running a death camp. also the emaciated figures we see, i think these comprise the most compelling of the evidence, its a striking visual, until you look up american pows in japan, and see those same gaunt figures, google it right now and click images, tell me those men are not the same as the ones you see in the holocaust propaganda, typhus was pandemic around the world at the time, and thats what it does to you. notice the piles of emaciated corpses, never a fat corps among them in the photos, but according to the propaganda, most of the jews were killed upon arrival at the camp, and yet they appear to be either in the advanced stages of extreme starvation OR suffering from typhus. there are documented cases of the guards at these “death camps” (work camps) who were EXECUTED for STRIKING and stealing from prisoners, seems like a terrible waist of manpower if the goal was to kill them all anyway, the red cross inspected many of what we once called deathcamps and found no evidence of any wrong doing, not once. there are no aerial photographs from spy planes depicting the massive smoke that would have been created by continuosly cremating bodies (at impossible speed and/or volume). there exists not one single document even referencing this massive industrial under taking, and the germans were notorious for keeping records. i could litereally go on all day, but again the reason you believe this impossible story has nothing to do with evidence and everything to do with emotion.

in my early twenties i would be exposed to some holocaust denialism, and it was always swiftly debunked. this is a tactic called (ironically) poisoning the well, whereby you purposefully seed your enemy with bad arguments to be used against you so you can easily tear them apart and make anyone questioning the narrative seem ridiculous as a result. so i was pretty skeptical until i did the math myself. its not possible, its not even close to possible, there is no way in this universe that happened. The tiny minority of ethnic jews did in germany what they attempted to do in every country they ever lived in, they took over. the german revolution of 1919 just after world war one ended, communist jews (look up the leadership of the 1919 german revolution, 7/10 were ethnic jews) and the german people were subjected to all kinds of terrible shit, mostly starvation as they bled the country dry from the top. they were also pushing things like gender theory (first ever gender reassignment was in berling, just prior to hitlers rise to power) promoted prostitution, owned the newspapers and film studios. basically everything we are seeing in america and the rest of the west today, it was called the weimar era, and the germans living under the weimar jews universally despised them. when the nazis rose to power they tried to deport the jews living in germany but no one wanted them, you see ethnic jews were notorious for doing this kind of thing, they had been kicked out of over 100 countries throughout history as a result of doing this kind of shit, so no other countries wanted them seriously there was a meeting of dozens of leaders from countries around the world and the only country who agreed to accept jews was the fucking dominican republic. they would still have this reputation today, if not for the holocaust narrative making any kind of racial classification the ultimate taboo, thats in part why they invented it, the other part was to justify britain just awarding them someone elses country while they were still living in it! the fact that they got away with that is amazing, really think about that if nothing else, because something bad supposedly happened to them, they were just GIVEN a COUNTRY that not only didnt belong to them, but was inhabited already by muslims who believed it to be their sacred land. its insane! anyway hitler just wanted to deport them and he tried (google the haavara agreement, its literally excepted history that hitler tried like hell to deport them, which is a bad idea if your final solution is the complete annihilation of the jewish race and not to deport them) when the jews around the world declared war on germany (literally a new york times headline at the time) via staging a massive worldwide boycott using the papers they owned and all the political clout they purchased via owning the international banking cartels, germany had jews registered and placed into seperate housing so they could not try to stage another revolution, they had already done it several times in germany with the spartan uprising and others, eventually even successfully overthrowing the government during the aforementioned german revolution of 1919. and then he had them put into work camps when even then they revolted violently. america did exactly the same thing, putting its ethnic japanese population in internment camps for fear of a rebellion within the country or acts of sabatoge or espianage, literally the same thing at the same time for the same reason. there were no gas chambers, they literally tell you the crematoriums are reconstructions at the death camps, because hitler “had them blown up”. there were crematoriums at the death camps, remember typhus was pandemic at the time, but the showers were just plain old showers. no jews were gassed whatsoever, an american doctor traveled to the death camps in poland (except they were work camps) and performed hundreds of autopsies, in an attempt to prove that people were gassed, he found not one single body had been gassed via cyanide out of over a hundred autopsies performed, they had died from typhus, basically got dysentary and shit themselves until they starved, it sucks but it was happening all over the world even in the pacific theater. and again the timeline for the burning of just the six million is beyond impossible and remember he supposedly killed 11 million total in his impossible deathcamps with its impossible ovens.

I know this is hard to swallow, but you have to swallow it, because its fucking IMPOSSIBLE, you cant burn that many bodies in that amount of time, with the crematoriums they supposedly had, remember all of them are “reconstructions” built by the soviets after the war by their own admission, because hitler supposedly blew them all up. so when people say “have you been to the death camps because i have!” what they are really saying is, i saw the work camps and the crematoriums built after the war, and i was lead as part of a tour into a shower where i was told a spooky story that made me sad. its fake. it has to be fake or else the laws of physics are fake. you can call me a nazi if you want, but what does that mean? its only bad because the nazis killed millions based on their race, but im telling you they literally couldnt have, not how they say that they did. remember its illegal to say what im saying in most of europe, france germany many others, and people are currently in prison, for just questioning it! i do believe jews were killed in eastern europe by germans and others, but you have to understand they were angry for the jews had been killing gentiles for years, thats what the “red terror” was! and there were many massacres of european christians at the hands of communist jews. so some towns killed them as soon as their hegemony was broken. i dont think thats right, but find me a war where this kind of thing doesnt happen and ill give you ten bucks. that other impossible thing? never fucking happened it couldnt have. i could go on forever, but the fact is its not on me to prove it didnt happen, its on someone to prove that it did. remember witness testimony is pretty weak, and you cant convict based on that alone, and evidence of work camps isnt evidence of 6 million gassed and incinerated jews, that is an extraordinary (impossible) claim that requires extraordinary (IMPOSSIBLE) evidence.

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erlenmeyertrash · 6 years

Text

Tag Game #1

oh boy

tagged by the wonderful @princessbelix !

Rules: answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people.

I tag: (a bunch of my most recent followers (hello friends!) plus some faves that i love) @ilikethemtallsweetie @endreams-s @datmarshmallow @iwasnttryingtohelp @bipperisbae @fallforfictionalcharacters @problematicfandomtrash @mydogsaresofuckingstupid @pieces-of-annedrew @thecinnabitch @internallyexplodingrainbows @wherethewaterstarts-andyouend @meginoi @scarletsaphire @wowieimshook @honey-stick @zerogettie @five-hour-anxiety @the-sanders-sides @virmillion

Last

1. drink - coffee

2. phone call - my dad

3. text message - “i’ll read the book or smth. but. just. i cannot” - on myself napping instead of going to class

4. song you listened - Kingdom Come - Jon Bellion

5. time you cried - ...hmm. some time in early to mid-january, maybe? not sure when.

6. dated someone twice? - lol yikes yep. let me be the cautionary tale, kiddos.

7. kissed someone and regretted it - hA yep

8. been cheated on - : ) you betcha

9. lost someone special - yeah

10. been depressed - been for a while, but we on them meds now they’re not really working though but it’s fine

11. gotten drunk and thrown up - ...pro tip? don’t take three shots of honey whiskey in 30 minutes, especially when you’re a) already extremely tipsy and b) don’t know your limits yet bc you’ve only drank like 5 times before

fave colours

12. gold

13. maroon

14. royal blue

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends - : ) yes

16. fallen out of love - yes

17. laughed until you cried - oh definitely

18. found out someone was talking about you - ...i guess?

19. met someone who changed you - kind of

20. found out who your friends are - yeppa yep

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list - i’m cackling at this question, but no

general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl - the vast majority, i’d say

23. do you have any pets - I HAVE A DOG

24. do you want to change your name - not really, no. i hated it when i was younger but i like it now

25. what did you do for your last birthday - ...good question. idk?

26. what time did you wake up today - 6:15 and 6:45. ‘15 am, ‘45 pm after a hella good nap

27. what were you doing at midnight last night - trying to sleep

28. what is something you cant wait for - getting my own house

30. what are you listening to right now - the tv show my roomie is watching is filtering through the apartment

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom - Thomas, yes

32. something that’s getting on your nerves - ...nothing as of rn? wait oh my god the voice of that dude in ochem. hhh. hate.

33. most visited website - probs tumblr tbh

34. hair color - a mix of mouse-brown and dirty blonde, i’d say

35. long or short hair - long

36. do you have a crush on someone - fam ion even like myself lmao no

37. what do you like about yourself - : ‘ )

38. want any piercings? - not particularly for myself

39. blood type - A+

40. nicknames - abbae, stardust (<3), i think that’s it? other than dog mom of course

41. relationship status - single

42. zodiac - Taurus

43. pronouns - she/her

44. fave tv shows - i don’t watch much? ultimate favoes over the years have been Warehouse 13, Grey’s, Fringe... I’m forgetting a few prolly but those really stand out

45. tattoos - 0

46. right or left handed - left

47. ever had surgery - nope!

48. piercings - ears

49. sport - volleyball, and i can- on occasion- catch a football

50. vacation - CURACAO

51. trainers - Nikes, hella.

more general

52. eating - girl scout cookies

53. drinking - super sweet coffee

54. i’m about to watch - my friends attempt an escape room

55. waiting for - bedtime tbh

56. want - to get accepted into my Extroversion™️ organization

57. get married - please

58. career - research!

which is better

59. hugs or kisses - ...hmm. i’ll say hugs

60. lips or eyes - eyes

61. shorter or taller - i prefer to be shorter? so like. taller for others lmao

62. older or younger - same thing- i like being younger

63. nice arms or stomach - hmmmm i’ll say arms i guess?

64. hookup or relationship - relationship

65. troublemaker or hesitant - a solid mix of both

have you ever

66. kissed a stranger - nah

67. drank hard liquor - i don’t... think so

68. lost glasses - yes, but i find them easily, since if they’re not on my face they’re usually in like 2 possible places

69. turned someone down - ...maybe? gently

70. sex on first date - HAHAHA n a h

71. broken someone’s heart - i don’t think so

72. had your heart broken - yeet

73. been arrested - nope

74. cried when someone died - mmmmhmm

75. fallen for a friend - ...sort of? we were friends before we dated

do you believe in

76. yourself - no

77. miracles - i try to

78. love at first sight - wistfully, yes

79. santa claus - uh yes

80. kiss on a first date - if it works, sure

81. angels - yeS i definitely know a few

other

82. best friend’s name - literally couldn’t pick just one if i tried

83. eye colour - hazel

84. fave movie - La La Land

85. fave actor - .......good question. Thomas Sanders tbh

#mine #tmi? n e v e r

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slugmanslime · 7 years

Text

Coming Undone (Ch. 2)

As previously mentioned, this is a re-write of Cant Get Enough, all leading up to the final chapter, soon to be posted! I was re-reading the previous chapters to get worked into the last one, and it didn’t jive with me at all; the story is now new and improved lol

You can also find all the chapters of this story and more on my AO3 and FF.net accounts ^~^

Chapter Two: Fight Back

Pairings: past!Son Goku/ChiChi, Piccolo/ChiChi Warnings: Mentions of MC Death, Male/Female Violence, Blood Mention Fic Type: Multi-Chapter 2/4 Word Count: 2,981

“Open the door, ChiChi. We aren’t done here.”

While the living room hadn’t been initially cold, thanks to the mild summer weather that had been blessing the valley the last week, it suddenly became much warmer, almost too warm. ChiChi became aware of crickets chirping in the grass, bats fluttering among the tree branches, the rushing of the river at the bottom of the knoll where their house rested. Her palm left the door knob slick with sweat when she pulled away, allowing Piccolo to swing the door open with an elderly creak, dirty frying pan clutched in one hand.

Dark smears of blood were already drying to his right cheek, his right ear swollen and the tip torn and still dripping. Warm yellow light cascaded from the center of the room, casting ChiChi’s shadow against the wall. The Namek seemed almost serene, obsidian eyes slitted with a fierceness she had only seen him possess in battle. Their poses mirrored each other, arms slack at their sides, mute and cautious. Piccolo was the first to break the silence as he shoved the pan into her chest, gentle enough not to bruise her, ultimately forcing her to catch it before it clattered to the ground once again.

“If you want to take whatever this is out on me, then fine. Your kids don’t need to know, nobody does. But if we’re going to fight, at least use your fists.” The way he spoke was heated and rough, as if he couldn’t quite contain the anger and shock bubbling inside him. That wasn’t to say she didn’t blame him; in fact, the prospect of a fight excited her for the first time since… well, before Gohan was born. But with Piccolo? He had every right to demand this of her now, given her lapse in self-control, and she was surprised he hadn’t already initiated one. Then again, she wasn’t; Piccolo had found balance after merging with Kami, more than he had ever had by himself.

Instead of answering him, ChiChi managed to tear her eyes away from his imposing figure, turning her back to him as she shuffled into the kitchen. The frying pan, one edge caked in moist dirt and pieces of grass, was placed inside the sink delicately, and she turned on the faucet, allowing hot water to fill it. Calloused fingers gripped the edge of the porcelain, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. Gohan was home less and less, either away studying at the library, or training with the very man she had struck. Even Goten wanted to spend more time following the duo around or playing Robot Pirate Brigade with Trunks than at home with her; every day after his lessons, he was out the door like a little rocket. She grew more listless with every passing day, week, month, watching them grow up. They were all that ChiChi had left of the Saiyan she had loved. Poor Goten hadn’t even met his father, which made the fact that he was Goku’s spitting image even more difficult for her; she saw Goku as he was that day by the river all those years ago, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, every time she gazed down at her youngest son.

A squeak in the floorboards as Piccolo shifted his weight broke her train of thoughts, and she blinked, eyes focusing on the overflowing pan before her. Shutting off the faucet, ChiChi turned to face her unwanted house guest, who was looking more and more unsure of his offer. Piccolo’s eyes never seemed to leave her, his brooding expression dredging up feelings that she just wanted to get rid of. So what if he’d tried to support them since Goku had been gone? It’s not like she ever asked him too—in fact, Piccolo was well aware of her desire to be an independent mother to her boys. She had been doing just that for the better part of she and Goku’s marriage, so why did his… death, have to change anything? It was exactly why she became irate every time Piccolo thought to mention it. Maybe now was her chance to prove herself, that she didn’t need him, she didn’t… want him.

“You have yerself a deal.” The worn yellow apron she always donned for housework found its way onto the kitchen table in a wad. There was a fierce determination in her step as she marched past Piccolo, mouth set in a grim line as she shoved her sleeves to her elbow, crumpling the fabric carelessly. ChiChi had a feeling that things were going to get messy; absently, she was glad that she hadn’t finished the laundry today.

While Piccolo allowed her to pass, her shoulder brushing his side, he hadn’t followed her. He was always one for taking his time, observing a situation to calculate the next best move. His patience and his battle prowess proved to be a deadly combination, not only in physical fights but verbal ones as well. And yet, here he was, running his mouth to the hot-headed mother of Saiyan hybrids like he had a bluff that needed calling. He had known ChiChi for years now; they exchanged barbs in nearly every conversation, mostly because they were some of the most bullheaded people you could ever have the misfortune of meeting. Couple this with the love they shared for Gohan and Goten, and the fights only got worse.

The fact that ChiChi had gotten violent could only be bad news; the ChiChi that Piccolo knew could use only the verbal threat of violence to sway people’s decisions, hardly ever resorting to using her trusty pan. Perhaps it was her emotional instability that worried him the most; it was palpable in her ki aura, emitting little sparks and ripples in her glow. It had bothered him for weeks now, always pricking the back of his mind when he tried to meditate. He had thought, ‘What’s the harm in confrontation? She’s never hidden things from me before?’

This. This is the harm in confrontation.

The Namekian took a deep breath, the air tinged with the scent of garden herbs, and sighed. Heavy feet guided him to stand before ChiChi, who had grown impatient in his musings; a hungry glint shined in her eyes, or maybe that was just a trick of the moon, he wasn’t sure. What Piccolo was sure of, however, is how excited ChiChi was. The muscles in her arms rippled as she stretched, and for a moment he saw her in her prime: body covered in lithe muscles, a humble smile paired with ferocious eyes flashing with coy fortitude. Piccolo was young then, as she was, but he remembered something squirming in his gut as he watched her fight, and for once he had momentarily lapsed in his desire for Goku’s absolute destruction.

The memory blurred, shifted, and Piccolo was back in the present as ChiChi was the first to strike, darting forwards on tiger’s feet with a feral smile to match. The blows she struck to Piccolo’s chest were forceful, the resounding thuds echoing in the clearing followed by his soft pants. His thick, corded arms stayed firmly at his side however, his posture shifting only to keep him upright, his right foot shifting backwards for balance; she showed no mercy, regardless. A few more blows to his abdomin and chest left her with aching knuckles and a sense of dissatisfaction at how little he reacted, forcing her to change her angle. Toned calves from hours of standing to cook and clean left the Namek close to reeling as they slammed into his face. The way ChiChi landed on the ground after her kick brought back that familiar squirming feeling, swirling inside him like the spots clouding his vision; perspiration beaded on her furrowed brow, and he blinked, panting, staring down at her.

“I’m getting’ real sick o’ this! You told me to fight with my fists, but this ain’t a fight if you aren’t defendin’ yerself!” Frustration seeped through her words, teeth grit against any desperation that tried to escape with it. Reluctantly, Piccolo’s stature shifted into a more defensive one, rather than that of a punching bag.

This development was enough to please ChiChi it appeared, if the way she leapt at him with renewed fervor was anything to judge by. Blocking her advances was his way of testing the waters, his forearms bludgeoned by her tiny, powerful fists and feet. That squishiness… The more time he spent around the Sons, the more he became of his distinct dislike of this feeling. At first, Piccolo had chalked it up to his respect for her fighting experience, since he had been a witness to her abilities the day that she and Goku became engaged. Maybe it had never gone away because the opportunity to test his skill against her own never presented itself!

But why then, did it strike him whenever she thanked him (albeit begrudgingly) for his help around the property? Why did it assail him when he caught sight of her smiling when her boys came running through the door for dinner after their training sessions? Damnit, why did Piccolo have to wrestle with it even now when ChiChi was obviously trying to knock his block off?!

The chorus of rushing river water and nighttime creatures combined provided the background for their intimate spar, transforming into a backdrop to their cacophony of grunts, gasps, and growls. As time marched on into the cool dead of night, the cicadas came out to sing, drowning out the previous harmony of the forest. The sharp trill of their screaming ignited the tempo of the fight, giving the more experienced fighter, Piccolo, the upper hand. Not that he abused it of course; ChiChi slipped up once or twice, leaving her coughing and retching from a particularly brutal blow to her gut. Perhaps it was too nice of Piccolo to pause and allow her time to recover, but he was nothing now but the champion of a fair fight; a far cry from the demon he had spawned from all those years ago. ChiChi on the other hand, simmering with pent-up anguish and the nearly overwhelming desire to come out on top for once with the hand that life had dealt, refused to be the one left on the ground this time.

Her late husband was not the only one with a thick skull, and the unsuspecting Namekian was forced to learn this the hard way. One moment, he was debating whether to help her up from the dirt or not, and the next, a jet-black missile launched itself halfway through his stomach, effectively expelling all the air from his lungs. Just to add insult to injury, once she managed to rise to her feet, ChiChi clasped her fists together and summarily brought them down right between his antennae with a shout. He could have sworn Nail and Kami felt it as well, considering how tender the spot was (good riddance, serves them right for always bugging him during a spar).

As if their fighting had been synchronized to the forest, while the duo panted and attempted to catch their breath, the shrieking of the cicadas faded, replaced by the mellow concerto of the night. ChiChi hadn’t felt this aware of herself in ages, it dawned on her then; every blooming bruise, every nick in her skin, every drop of blood oozing from the cuts—her body was thrumming with energy and exhausted all at once. And here she was, swaying if not standing above the tallest man she knew, who was groaning ever so softly as he knelt in the grass at her feet. But warm pleasure in the pit of her stomach was ignited when the Namek finally gazed up at her. His lip was split, and his ear even more swollen than before, but his usual gruffness was replaced by a fond smile, his eyes shimmering with something that sent ChiChi’s heart into her throat.

“I think I understand now why Goku loved you… ChiChi.”

ChiChi felt the pain, confusion, and isolation she had harbored for the whole planet start to boil over. The faint handprint on his cheek didn’t register to her until the stinging in her palm brought her back to reality, crouched before him with tear-blurred vision. Of course, he didn’t seem to mind, barring the slight bewildered expression that replaced the warm, rarely open one he had worn. Choking back a tired, worn sob, ChiChi sank to her knees, fists curled into her chest.

“Stop talkin’ about him! If he really ever loved me at all, that was a long time ago, and he’s gone now, anyways. If he- if he really loved me, or the boys, or his friends- he woulda come back! Doesn’t he know I need him? Doesn’t he get how hard this is sometimes? Doesn’t he know what- what it’s like tah be… alone?” Afraid. That’s what she was, at the root of it all. She suffocated Gohan and Goten, struggling to keep them close to her while her anger at the world, at Goku, spilled over into her relationship with them. And here she was, pouring her heart out to the most emotionally inexperienced person quite possibly on the planet.

‘No shit, you giant green lump. Are you just going to stare at her?’ Nail grumbled subconsciously.

‘I’m working on it, pipe down!’ Piccolo growled internally, panic creeping in. Why did everything that came out of his mouth make her cry all of a sudden?

Shifting his body, Piccolo put himself eye-level with her warily, as if ChiChi was some wild beast that would attack at the slightest provocation. That gross, squirming feeling wrenched wildly at the sight of her bloodshot, watery brown eyes; her soft huffing and the crinkling of her nose made it apparent how hard she was trying to not let the tears escape.

“I have to be honest with you… I don’t think he ever did. People always flocked to him, searching for help or wanting some of his time. Goku never really wanted that but, he took it in stride. Staying dead was the most selfless thing he’d ever done, in his eyes. He loved you, ChiChi, he wanted to protect you. To protect all of us.” As he spoke, her entire expression softened, the fight slowly draining out of her to leave a vulnerable shell… something Piccolo had never witnessed before; their faces were inches apart, their breath mingling.

“Would it make me a bad wife if I wanted him all to myself? No… would it make me a bad friend?” It was a relief for him when she averted her eyes, bringing a hand up to cup her own cheek in thoughtful distress. Piccolo felt like he could breathe again, his heart relaxing now that he wasn’t caught in her stare. She looked rough, honestly; her hair was tangled, hanging limp down her back, and her face was red and blotchy from her onslaught of tears.

The Namek had developed a soft spot for small, defenseless things since he’d kidnapped Gohan as a child, against his will of course. But… here he was, timidly reaching out to place his own clawed hand over the small, muddy one she had pressed against her face; his fingers were so much longer than hers that his claws slid into her hair, coarse and soft at the same time.

The path of the moon seemed to pause, cricket song and the sound of flowing water disappearing behind the blood rushing in his ears. ChiChi stiffened under his touch, not in fear, rather, in surprise; he was aware of her fingers wriggling under his hand, as if to determine that he was really touching her.

“You’re not a bad wife. Or a bad mother. Your kids love you more than anything, ChiChi. I just wish you knew that you aren’t actually alone.” That sounded suspiciously friendly and there wasn’t anything Piccolo could do to keep Nail from snickering at him distantly. Not that he cared; no, the only thing he was focused on was the way that ChiChi looked at him.

Like he was the only thing she could see. Like he had shown her an oasis in the middle of the desert. Like he was… not Goku, but something damn close.

The night had become cooler, but Piccolo’s face was warm, blush spreading from the tip of his ears to the hollow of his throat. He couldn’t help but notice how thick her hair was, encasing his fingers as he pushed his hand forwards into her inky locks. Oddly enough, the sniffling woman seemed appreciative of the motion, her own hand abandoning her cheek as her head reluctantly leaned into his hand.

It wasn’t on purpose, he would try to convince himself later. The moon had shone down on her skin just right, making ChiChi glow like a warrior queen and making his heart sputter indignantly. Just like that, his lips pressed against her forehead and left a purple smear of blood, marring the porcelain shade—but it was more of the way that she gaped up at him in surprise that had him kicking himself. A reflex that he had picked up from this very woman—when someone you love is hurting, kisses make them feel better right?

Even though Piccolo had tensed for another slap, or perhaps a punch this time, he was met with nothing but ChiChi’s laughter. It started off as a few stunned, hesitant giggles, but quickly morphed into squeaky belly laughs. Her eyes were dry now, the grin on her face making them squint, and she wrapped her grubby fingers around his wrist, holding his hand in place as if she didn’t want her episode to drive him away.

Great, she finally snapped. Now what?

#Coming Undone #Cant Get Enough #fanfiction #DBZ #rewrite #Chiccolo #ChiChi #Piccolo #violence

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