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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

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Obsession ||Yandere!Alec Volturi x Female Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. If this is triggering to you, do not read this fic. This and posts like this one will be tagged under dark themes so please feel free to block that tag if you do not want to see content like this in the future.

The following link will take you to a Citizen’s Advice Page that have resources regarding Domestic abuse and violence. They detail various organisations offering support, refuge and advice for both women and men in abusive situations, however these only apply to the UK.

https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse-getting-help/

I am from the UK and therefore am not sure about what resources may be available internationally, however I know many of you are from places outwith the UK. If you have any resources you know of that would be useful or helpful to add here then please do! You can reblog this post with link in or message me a link to have me edit it into the original. I will post this link and any that get added in all three parts of this fic that I post.

Words: 3116

Summary: A request for @tiger-khans-blog Savings your sister’s boyfriend was an act of kindness, something you had done out of the goodness of your heart, but hadn’t they always said the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Alec is aged up to 16 in this fic.

Part 2: When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On

Part 3: These Violent Delights

It had been near constant since you’d entered the room.

His eyes were the most piercing ruby red – until they weren’t. The onyx colour had followed you ever since you’d set foot in the throne room, a sharp inhale being the extent of his communication with you. If he wasn’t so damn creepy he might have been handsome, with his shock of dark hair framing a pale face with all the sharp, angular cheekbones and jawline of a model. He was taller to, definitely taller than you by at least half a head, but his stare was piercing and completely at odds with his otherwise apathetic expression. He showed no emotion at all yet the way he looked at you…it was like the whole world revolved around you and only you. There was hunger and excitement and need and envy and a whole host of other emotions in his eyes. It had made you so uncomfortable you’d gravitated towards Alice as best you could, but the whole plan had gone out of the window when the hulking mass of muscle they called Felix started towards your sister.

Isabella Swan was two years older than yourself, but for most of your life she had been the one taking care of you. Renée hadn’t planned on having a second child but like so many other things in her life, you were a complete accident. As loving as your mother was, she wasn’t necessarily fit to take care of one child, never mind two. Bella was the one who had helped with homework, who had crawled into your bed with you when you had nightmares or were sick. To see Felix coming straight for her was like something straight out of a nightmare and you’d moved without thinking. One minute you were facing the taunting smirk of a mountain man and the next the room had blurred, and your vision was filled with the furious stare of the boy who had been watching you all day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. His grip on the tops of your arms tight enough to bruise. You winced, wide eyes filling with tears, and in the next second the boy had released your arms and moved to tenderly cup your face. “Shhh, shhhh sh sh, it’ll all be over soon.” He promised, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you tried to squirm out of his grip. His eyes hardened, clearly unhappy with you trying to escape him. You could only see him, his face the only thing in your vision, but you could hear what sounded like rocks colliding, granite smashing. Your body trembled, anxiety filling you up. It wasn’t clear if the boy was more upset with your trying to get out of his grip than your interference with Bella’s execution, but those coal black eyes never lost their laser focus on you.

“Alec?” the petite blonde beside him sounded thoroughly confused while you fought off a shudder. You hated how his name sounded so appealing. Everything about him was enticing, even his scent, but he terrified you beyond belief with the way he was acting.

“Is it the noise? Would you prefer not to see? To hear?” he asked. In the next second it was all gone, like the world had fallen away around you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; you were left screaming in your own head with absolutely no idea if you were still in that awful, awful room or if your soul had mercifully fled your body before you could feel any pain. There was simultaneously nothing and everything, an endless abyss of silence and the imprecise, ever-shifting image of what you thought you remembered the Volturi’s throne room to look like wavering in your head.

Being left alone with your imagination was somehow worse than seeing the actual thing. In your mind Bella was torn in half, one hand stretched towards you while the other remained in Felix’s grip. Alice was trapped by Demetri, Felix holding Edward by the throat. Then the scene would shift and Bella was limp in his arms with Felix’s mouth attached to her neck, both Cullen’s dead and Alec descending on you with that insane stare of his. There were too many ways to envision what mutilation might have occurred and you were beginning to drive yourself insane with them when suddenly the darkness faded.

You blinked rapidly, unsure if what you were seeing was real since it was so blurred. A gentle hand dabbed rough wool beneath your eye and you realised the world looked so watery because you had been crying. Alec used the sleeves of his jacket to dry your tears. Bella was watching you with horror filled eyes, your trembling body almost giving way as you fought the urge to run – you were sure Alec would just drag you back. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.

“Mesmerising, to see what you have seen before it has happened.” Aro murmured, stroking Alice’s hand before she pulled it back with a clearly forced smile.

“But what will.” She reminded him. He clapped his hands, looking so joyful you were left utterly paralysed with confusion. Did he not understand how terrifying this all was? Had he not seen the sheer crazy that was waiting to burst forth out of the boy holding you back? His behaviour was erratic, completely at odds with the rest of the refined and well disciplined Guard. How could Aro not see?

“Yes, yes it’s quite certain, you are free to leave.” Aro informed them. Your breath escaped you in a rush and you immediately tried to dash for your sister. Bella had opened her arms straight to you and the safe haven was so close, yet so far. Alec didn’t let you take a step, hauling you back against his chest and burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No you don’t, I’ve waited too long.” He grumbled. You struggled frantically, the tears springing to your eyes again as Caius tried to protest his brother’s decision. You had drawn the attention of most of the Guard and the man you knew to be Marcus by now though, the brunette king looking somewhat sympathetic towards you. For a man with no respect for human life to look at you like that could most certainly not be a good thing.

“What are you doing brother? Let the foolish thing go.” Jane said, reaching for his arm. His head snapped up, a growl rumbling through his chest into your spine. If looks could kill, you had no doubt the petite blonde would have burst into flame then and there, bursting into a thousand pieces with the intensity of the danger in his glare.

“Bella!” you whimpered. His hold was like having an iron beam wrapped around your torso, two strong arms refusing to let you move so much as an inch from his chest. It didn’t make sense, none of it did, why was he so obsessed with keeping you near? Did he want you dead? He couldn’t, he’d had plenty of chance to do so by now and hadn’t taken a single opportunity to hurt you on purpose. So what was his problem with you?

“Alec, dear one, is something the matter?” Aro asked, eyes glistening.

“Aro.” His brother held a hand out to him and the black haired leader flashed towards him while you continued to struggle, your frustration mounting.

“Let me go!” you cried, You stomped on his foot – nothing. You threw your elbow back into his ribs – nothing except a sore elbow for you. You tried to pry his arms away from your body – nothing.

“No.” he hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Let me go! Please! Let me go!” you begged.

“I said, no.” he repeated, his voice ice cold. Your heart rabbited in your chest, the nausea in your throat rising until you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. You could barely breathe and it wasn’t just his tight grip that was the problem. There was a panic attack looming on the horizon for you if he kept this up.

“Please, let her go, she’s done nothing wrong. Aro said we were free to go.” Bella tried. She took a step towards you and with one swift jerk he had turned his back on her. You screamed, your limbs fatigued and losing strength with every hit.

“I’m afraid young Y/N will not be going home with you,” Aro’s voice was soft, “To separate them would clearly only cause harm. Alec cannot leave his mate.” You froze in his grip, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you lip trembled. Mate? Mate? What the hell did that even mean? Animals mated, not humans! Was that what he was implying? The boy was so horny for you he wouldn’t let you leave? The fear that gripped you was utterly paralysing as you thought of a thousand different scenarios that made you want to be utterly sick with the horror of them; your choices taken from you, your voice inconsequential as he did things to you you never consented to.

“She’s my sister! Please, I’ve looked after her since she was born, you can’t just-“

“And from this day forth she’ll be looked after by me. She is mine.” Alec snarled quietly. He didn’t seem to notice you’d gone completely rigid in his grip.

“Alec her father will be devastated, she hasn’t even finished school, if you keep her here you’ll just make her unhappy.” Edward tried to reason with him, but he merely tightened his grip on you. You cried out, a sharp pain ripping through your midriff as he almost choked the life from you. The blonde-haired Guard appeared in your line of sight then, his expression somewhat concerned as you struggled to force air into your lungs. If Alec could hear you rasping for air he didn’t show it.

“Alec, old friend look at her,” he coaxed. Alec had done plenty of looking at you, you didn’t want him to look anymore. You shied away from his gaze, head ducking and hair falling between you. Shuddering gasps escaped you as your heart began to roar in your ears, a sure sign there wasn’t enough oxygen getting into your lungs. One arm moved from around your waist but you were too scared to move away from him now, his freezing cold fingers gently brushing your hair back. You flinched.

“She’s mine, Demetri.” He insisted, frowning like a petulant child who was being threatened with their favourite toy being taken from them. Demetri nodded his head.

“She is, and yet she flinches from you. You are scaring her Alec, and she will most definitely bruise if you keep holding her so tight, that’s I she doesn’t suffocate first. Do you want that for your mate? Do you wish to hurt her? To make her fear you?” he questioned. Alec gave a soft wince, immediately loosening his grip.

“I’ve hurt you?” he asked, looking a lot like a wounded puppy now. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, not trusting your voice to remain steady and simply nodding in response. His eyes were still wide with conflicting emotion, but Demetri seemed to be getting through to him at least. You were grateful, and pleaded with your eyes for the man to keep going.

“You cannot simply claim her Alec, she is so young still, would you not prefer her to live a full life and come to you willingly?” Demetri wondered. You felt your stomach drop as Alec’s expression hardened.

“You’re trying to take her from me to.” he growled.

“Alec you are-“

“She, is, not, leaving!” he snarled, a sea of black exploding around him. Your eyes widened, a cool mist swirling about your legs as you finally managed to stumble away from him. Only Bella was still standing, the others having crumpled to the floor until only he, you and Bella remained conscious.

“Y/N!” she cried out. He didn’t stop you running to her this time. You stumbled into her arms, sobbing and shaking. She held you tight to her, her fingers pressing harshly into her skin. It felt like butterfly wings caressing your flesh compared to Alec’s vice like grip. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay, you just have to-“

“Make this quick, say goodbye to your sister. That’s what you want isn’t it? A proper goodbye?” Alec asked, mist still pouring from his hands as his black eyes followed your every move. You shook your head frantically.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, I want to go home! Let me go home!” you begged. Alec hissed.

“What don’t you understand? You are my mate! I’ve waited a thousand years for you, you are mine and you cannot walk away from me!” he snapped. Bella tried to hush you, stroking your hair gently as you collapsed into her.

“Please don’t let him keep me here.” You cried. Bella remained silent, horribly, startlingly silent. Her hands shook as she held you close. Alec approached you, the mist seemingly absorbing back into his body as he walked. The room was in an uproar as soon as everyone was on their feet again, Felix and Demetri forcing him to his knees with furious expressions. He still never took his eyes off of you, his expression devoid of any and all emotion suddenly.

“Are you insane Alec? Using your gift on us? We’re trying to help you!”

“How could you brother? You broke our promise and for a human no less!”

“What insolence is this? Need we remind you of your place boy!”

Alec didn’t respond to any of the accusations, his neck straining so he could keep his eyes on you. Aro only had to touch his hand to know his intentions for you, but you didn’t dare look anymore, choosing instead to bury your face in your sister’s neck as you struggled to calm your breathing and sobbing.

“I would advise you leave now.” Felix huffed.

“We can’t,” Edward’s voice was quiet, apologetic, “Y/N, if we take you, he’ll destroy us all.” Your chest constricted, you felt like you could barely breathe as a lead weight settled in your gut. Destroy them? Alec was a killer, if the red eyes hadn’t told you so then his actions just now had. It wasn’t difficult at all to believe he’d go so far as to kill anyone who stood between you both, but what hurt even more was that you didn’t trust him to be good to you if you stayed either. Why did it have to be you? You’d come to Volterra to do something good, to save someone’s life! So why were you losing yours?

“You ought think on your actions Alec, your mate will be here waiting for you, but for now you need some time to reflect on your position. I think two weeks in the dungeons ought to suffice.” Aro’s voice was ice cold, his fury obvious. Clearly, he had never thought one of his own guard would dare use his powers against him.

“You monster! You fucking monster! Edward I can’t leave her here, she’s my baby sister!” Bella protested. You tightened your grip on her shirt, eyes itchy red and cheeks wet as the terrible weight of hopelessness sank down on your chest. There was no way out. Even if they had tricked Alec and let you leave what then? Did you run from him for the rest of your life? Did you just wait for him to find you? Maybe the dungeon might mellow him out some? It was a bit of a relief really, when the stress just shut your brain and body down, even if the moment of relief was as brief as blinking.

You could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, that perhaps you were at home, as your consciousness dripped back into you. You were on soft sheets, your pillow cradling your head, and you wanted to just burrow away in them. The only thing was, you could feel sunlight warming your skin, and that addictive, woodsy smell was not the lavender your laundry usually came out smelling like. You felt awfully nauseous for a moment when you opened your eyes, your body readjusting to having your brain in control once more, but the red eyes that met yours were far kinder this time than Alec’s aggressively territorial stare. The chestnut brown hair and angular face was familiar to you, and you warily sat up to lean back against the headboard. Demetri let you put the distance between you with an aura of calm that tempted you to relax to. He was alone, no Felix or Jane by his side, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.

“Where’s Bella?” you whispered. She had to be somewhere nearby. Maybe she was in the bathroom? Or had gone to find food and drink? How long had you even been out? Whose room was this?

“She and the Cullen’s departed for their return flight to America not an hour ago.” Demetri informed you. Your stomach dropped, your nausea rising and face paling.

“No…no she – she didn’t leave me here, she didn’t….you’re lying!” Knees curling to your chest, you gripped tightly at your jeans until your knuckles turned as white as your face.

“Not without protest,” he assured you, his voice softer now with sympathy, “But it seems Alec has become unpredictable. His reaction to the mate pull unnerved us all, you are not alone in your fear, though perhaps we fear different things.” His voice was soothing in a way not much else to you was right now. Thoughts swirled in your mind, the bitterness at your abandonment only outweighed by terror at being left behind.

“What is he going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. Demetri’s head tilted.

“And that is why I am afraid…I truly cannot tell you.” He murmured. He didn’t exactly comfort you when the tears came again, your eyes beyond irritated with all the crying you’d done today, but he didn’t stop you from letting your emotions run away from you instead. He remained close enough to remind you you weren’t alone, but Demetri didn’t hold you as Bella would, or stroke your hair or do anything remotely soothing. His greatest gift to you in that moment was to simply let you be human.

You didn’t know how long that would last.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #yandere alec #alec volturi #alec volturi x female reader #demetri volturi #felix volturi #jane volturi #request #volturi #dark themes

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 4 years

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Alright alright alright

You’ve all been asking for it, so here it is!

This will be (edit: HELLA) long and obviously spoiler-y, so everything is under a cut.

Are you ready?

Before we get to it, I want to mention that for the sake of keeping things organized, I will NOT be talking about my AU (@ask-whitepearl-and-steven) in this post. I want to just analyze the show as a viewer and a fan first. I’ll make a seperate post for AU-thoughts a bit later.

Without further ado:

EP 1: LITTLE HOMESCHOOL

This is a great way to open up the episode and show the changes through the lens of someone who has been a bit out of it for a while (we are all Cherry Quartz, fresh from the hiatus, aren’t we?) but I’m sorry, this post still takes the cake:

Okay, okay, back to the program.

“That used to be a loaded question...“

Right off the bat, Steven is SO much more confident about saying that he’s... HIMSELF! What a good feeling. I’m very proud of our boy.

I love the name “Gemglyph” for the gem language! I’ll need to know who wrote these, though. And who the heck drew the diamonds? Hopefully it was BP.

And I’m not the first one to point this out, but MORE ANIME REFERENCES!

Which can be seen as either a reference to the Chill Low-Fi Hiphop Beats to Study To OR Whisper of the Heart.

And absolutely no one cares but something that caught my eye is the fact that they have an EARTH FLAG at Little Homeschool! How cool is that!

Earth 4ever!!!

Off-note - I love how INVESTED they are in this conversation Pearl is having with Holo-Pearl.

Peak entertainment.

I love Professor Amethyst and I love the random human who snuck in to apparently take lessons on Not Giving A Single Shit About Anything, Ever.

And here we FINALLY are in the FUTURE

Where we FINALLY get Jasper as a functioning character

And

She’s

SO DRAMATIC, I LOVE HER.

This is literally SO funny like she... she was just... laying on top of her house... under a blanket..... FOr WHAT? To stand up dramatically and throw it off when Steven inevitably paid a visit?

Is that just what she dOES?

“It’s FINE I don’t need any HELP, I’m FUNCTIONING, I’m just having a SELF CARE DAY OK”

Also I’m sorry but

Jasper: “It took forever to yank those puny green earthlings out of the ground.”

Steven: “You mean grass...?“

THIS. RIGHT HERE. is peak Jasper.

It’s also curious how INVESTED Steven is in this:

“I’m TRYING to give you [a purpose]!“

Why are you... trying to do that, though? Isn’t the whole idea for gems to surpass their ‘purpose’ and just kinda... do whatever? Isn’t Jasper just kinda... doing whatever?

I mean, sure, it’s not useful to anyone, but she seems relatively happy. Aside from. You know. The whole laying on rocks under blankets until she’s disturbed thing and-- okay, you’re right, maybe an intervention would be healthy.

I’m not gonna talk at length about the rest of the episode - although I think it’s really good, I don’t know what I can say about it that hasn’t already been said. Jasper is definitely poking Steven’s buttons and rephrasing a LOT of what WHITE has said to Pink: “You surround yourself with inferior gems because it makes you feel better.”

And Steven REACTS to this. The taunt WORKS.

And yes, he gains some extra powers for it, but something tells me this AIN’T the only thing he will get. It feels like a two-edged sword. Like it’ll be his own downfall somehow....... maybe at the end of the series.

Ashes to ashes.... hole to hole.

And oh wow I thought they were gonna bond but LMAO

“Consider your fight back there your first and ONLY lesson.“

Basically:

I love you Jasper.

EP 2: GUIDANCE

I LOVE YOU AMETHYST.

sHE’S doing SO much and she’s SO good at it!! Look at her!! Organizing stuff!!!!

RUBIES IN SUNGLASSES. IN SQUARE SUNGLASSES.

I need 20.

And I also need 20 of Larimar because holy shit that’s hilarious.

Larimar: “I want to hear the human screams forever.”

Steven: “Okay that’s kinda troubling.”

I love the reference to Monsters Inc here and I love the callback at the end of the episode when Larimar switches to Human Laughter to get her fill of that particular erm... need.

And honestly the ensuing chaos is equally predictable and entertaining.

I’m SO glad to know that Rubies are just... Like That and that actually Navy is not a deviation from the norm but rather a different flavor of the chaotic energy all Rubies naturally seem to possess.

Amethyst is also super relatable:

“Ah yes, the fool comes crawling back. Come to beg for forgiveness, have you?”

In fact, the episode’s WHOLe HUMOUR is just very much My Brand

“Sometimes you save all the people but the rollercoaster still crashes into the ocean...... and that’s okay.”

Including the Running Gag that is Onion. Who... does not appear to have aged. At all. And that’s okay.

EP 3: ROSE BUDS

Okay where do I even begin with this one. Um.

I have to openly admit that I spent the majority of this episode wheezing with laughter. Let’s start with the Zoomans:

Who are CLEARLY STILL SUPER SALTY AT GREG ABOUT REJECTING THEM??? Which is hilarious.

And also this paradise is fascinating in and of itself.

But the next scene is basically where I started losing my shit.

Okay, okay, alright so. Uh. I have... a few questions.

Like Why. WHY. Does she look. SO MUCH like Rose?

Clearly Rose Quartz differ in coloring and etc. But She literally looks. Like THE Rose. VERY explicitly.

So here’s several options here:

1) Pink made Rose Quartz way before any of the Rebellion happened and Pearl just basically pigeonholed her into THIS specific Rose Quartz appearance because she (???) had a crush? Or somehow saw this specific Rose, thought ‘hot, i can make my sympathetic Diamond wear this exact costume and that would be EXCELLENT fanservice for ME’

2) Pink didn’t have any Rose Quartz until the Rebellion, and thereafter quickly decided ‘I need these gems as an alibi, so we’re just gonna make them” and she and Pearl basically inclubated Rose Quartz like a pokemon trainer hatching for a Shiny until they got one that looked Exactly Like That.

3) There was no Thinking involved because this is Pink we’re talking about, and it was all just a huge coincidence for the sake of this Very Hilariously Uncomfortable Episode.

While we ruminate on that, let’s look at some Relatable Reactions.

And here we have the holy trinity of “I have just seen the clone of my deceased parent/parental figure/lover.”

Featuring: Bonus ‘I’m Almost Over It’ Pearl

Also, I need y’all to make this into a meme:

For example:

Anyway, alright, alright.

That relatable feel when your (hot) dead lesbian lover’s clone asks you if you’re okay after another one of the (less hot?) clones offers you a whole ass stick of butter to eat.

And then you and your friends all hide in the bathroom to talk about your feelings:

Okay, the rest of the episode gives me FEELINGS and I love how hard Steven is trying, so I’ll just close it off with:

I LOVE THEM. Unironically, they are EVERYTHING I had hoped Rose Quartz would be. They’re SO MUCH like Rose herself - did she model her personality after them? Or are they just like her because she WAS like that, and they’re made from her essence? WHO KNOWS?! They’re adorable!

And the conflict between them and Steven is honestly so gooD! I don’t know if it’s completely relatable but I’m glad they ended up talking it out.

I wonder if we’ll ever see Her again... you know who I’m talkin’ about.

Her....

I’m madly in love with Rose, ok, I don’t need a callout post. Just leave me be.

EP 4: VOLLEYBALL

Alright, alright, alright.

OKAy,.... It’s fine. It’s FINE. I’m fINE.

Confirmed: 8000 years. That’s. UH. A LOT? That puts our timelines quite a ways back. We kind of estimated as much, but still, it’s so jarring to think about. And PP is VERY casual about it.

She’s also VERY casual about the injury.

“This is all Pink Diamond!”

It doesn’t seem like it bothers her to talk about it at all. She’s not even trying to keep it a secret. So I’m almost wondering - was there a connection to her being taken by White and the injury at all or not?

She came to Steven to get healed - she clearly wants it gone. At the time she was injured, did Pink not even attempt to heal the injury?

Follow up question: If she DID care, why didn’t she try to heal it?

Follow up to the follow up: Was it because she didn’t know she could? Or did she simply not have the time to (White removed her before she could)?

When Steven goes pink, she gasps - but makes no further comment. It’s presumably because she’s seen this happen before. She doesn’t try to move away, weirdly enough - she asks him if everything is alright. Perhaps the context is too different for it to be triggering for her. Perhaps there’s more layers to it? HMMM.

What follows is, perhaps, the SALTIEST we’ve seen Pearl since Greg rolled around.

“Did you come to compete?”

This is doubly curious to me because Crewniverse has previously explicitly stated that Pearl was NOT in love with Pink Diamond. She was in love with Rose. So if this is true, why would Pearl care about her place as Pink’s Pearl? She is supposed to be past all that, isn’t she?

And yet as time goes on, the salinity grows exponentially. Alright, you two, I know you’re Pearls but tone it down with the sass.

(Also, I’m sorry but I will NEVER call her Volleyball. That’s all. Bye.)

Also it’s worth noting that... PP is clearly VERY much in love with Pink.

This is, perhaps, where the lack of a grudge plays into it. She’s completely enamoured.

Moreover, she’s VERY casual about how she talks here. This isn’t exactly how one talks of their Diamond. This is how people talk about their romantic partners. She calls Pink silly, calls her ‘funny’. That’s not exactly a term of respect - it’s way more intimate than that.

Also, did anyone else notice how, although CG Pearl’s gem is usually shaded in teal, it’s in Pink in this episode? VEEEERY subtle, Crew.

Also, we can’t quite see Pink Pearl’s expression fully here because her working eye isn’t visible, which makes it hard to get a read on things like

“I’m older than you.“ Is she just saying it casually? Or is she fully aware that she’s poking fun at CG Pearl?

HI SHELL. ISN’T IT FUNNY HOW YOUR VOICE AND YOUR NAME ARE A SUBTLE NOD TO PORTAL, WHICH IS FORESHADOWING HOW BADLY THIS IS GONNA END.

Meanwhile, Pearl continues to be in character.

“No need to be overly... attached.”

And this has nothing to do with anything but

she cute

Aaaand now it’s creepy again.

The rest of this is super important so let’s get to it:

“Oh, no. Pink did this.”

“What did you say?”

“It’s a funny story, really. Once, Pink got tired of asking Yellow and Blue for her own colony, so she went straight to White. Of course, White told her she wasn’t fit to run one... and well! That set her off.”

“Set her off? What are you talking about?”

“You remember how she was! With her destructive powers, throwing tantrums left and right! She had a scream that could crack the walls. She didn’t mean to hurt me! (giggle) I just happened to be standing too close to her that time and--”

And then Steven interrupts.

We get more CG Pearl arguing for how wrong this image of Pink is to her. What CG Pearl knew was a totally different (or, well, same, but VERY changed) Pink.

But what we have to prove our point is Steven himself. He rolls into the EXACT same state as Pink presumably did - and begins to over-use his powers.

(This isn’t the first time we have seen him use this attack.)

The reactions from the Pearls are telling - this is clearly not Pink Pearl’s first rodeo with this type of Mood.

And it’s important to note that Steven clearly didn’t direct any attack AT them. He simply yelled - and the whole dang place literally started to crack. There’s weight to the argument that possibly, Pink really DIDN’T mean to hurt her Pearl - that she was just collateral damage.

Which doesn’t make it any better, obviously. Even if Pink had no direct intention of hurting her Pearl (and there are theories that Pink purposefully hit or threw Pink Pearl or somehow physically acted directly to damage her, which I was skeptical of) the result of it is still the same.

If you raise your voice and yell, even if you’re just yelling because YOU are hurt/have feelings, you might still hurt the people around you. If you throw a tantrum, even if your direct goal was just to let off some steam without aiming to harm anyone, whoever gets in your way is still the victim.

And this is all very much On Brand for Pink’s timeline as we know it. We already knew this about her - we KNEW she tended to throw tantrums (like in the flashback on Jungle Moon) and that she was childish. The fact that she accidentally hurt her Pearl in the process because she had no self-control at that period in her life comes as no surprise.

(Although it’s important to mention that perhaps hurting her own Pearl WAS the breaking point during which she finally realized how her emotional outbursts could have negative consequences on those around her.)

And this is a very beautiful message - even if Pink Pearl still doesn’t want to blame Pink for what was done to her (”But... she didn’t mean to!”) Pearl brings the point of it back around to her (”But you were still hurt!”) The point isn’t the person who did the hurting - the focus is on the victim and how they were affected.

And the rest, I daresay, is history.

I like the fact that they managed to still bring it back around to the main message:

It isn’t about just “Pink was bad”. It’s about how she did bad things. And there were multiple sides to her - multiple stages. And the Pearls who knew her knew different sides of her - the side that didn’t know how to be a good person, who was selfish and childish and unrestrained... and the side that was, arguable, too restrained. Who hated her own past, her own character and her own mistakes so much that she would rather bury them and keep secrets from everyone.

And neither of those things were good, and neither were healthy, but they are a GREAT contrast to a GREAT character arc that is, arguably, still being unearthed. And we have so much more context for it all now.

I, for one, can’t wait to see and discover more of Pink through Pink Pearl - no matter how ugly that side of her might be. I think it gives great perspective to her later growth.

And if you ship the Pearls.. .well, I get why.

Personally I’m not interested in it that way. Call me unromantic - I don’t think their relationship NEEDS to be shippy in order to be satisfyingly deep. I love the idea of them having a deep bond over this - a shared past, a shared experience, and gaining confidence through one another.

Cheers and thanks for listening!

#steven universe future #steven universe: future #steven universe future spoilers #su:f spoilers #suf spoilers #su spoilers #steven universe spoilers #spoiler warning #pink pearl #volleyball

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cherryplasmids · 4 years

Text

☆ the lives you’ve left behind ☆

pairing: donny donowitz x reader

fandom: inglourious basterds—post-movie sequence

anon request: hi girl! i love your writing and i was wondering if you still write for donny donowitz? if you do i was wondering if you could do an angsty one? that's all i ask, you could take that and run with it however :)

notes: the reader has a kid — aldo is referred to the reader’s child as ‘uncle’ but that doesn’t mean they are actually related. also, aldo is married to a girl name jenny

— the child is a boy named Alex for filler purposes

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"That's your daddy," You whisper, pulling the tiny bundle of joy closer to your chest.

The infant, swaddled in a pale yellow blanket decorated with small brown bears, yawns but does not take notice of your words. Instead, Alex twists, stretches his arms out and settles back onto your chest. Without a care in the world, he just relaxes in the warmth that you've given him. An inkling of envy flashes through you—you would do anything to be that carefree again. But the war ruined everything, including your unbridled youthful attitude.

"Handsome, isn't he?" You question as if the little one will respond. You'd be more scared than anything if he does. You wave the 4x6 photo forward to entice your baby to look. "The most handsome man I've ever seen. Everyone thinks so too, even your uncle Aldo but he won't admit to that.

"But don't worry, baby. You'll be just as handsome and charming as your old man was."

As if he understands, the boy babbles happily, spit freely spilling over his lips and onto his cheeks. Grabbing a Kleenex from the bedside table, you wipe his face. It doesn't deter him. He continues to express his enjoyment through spit bubbles and random giggling. Your heart swells at the sight—his happiness contagious enough to erase your woes for the night.

When the sun rises, you'll tell Aldo all about the affection your newborn has been showing. He'll run down the street to coddle his nephew.

You don't continue until your baby boy calms down enough to the point where spit no longer seeps out of his mouth. By then, sleepiness is taking hold of him. He gives out a deep yawn. One of his tiny hands grips your right thumb while the other curls into a fist and rubs his eyes. A smile quirks at your lips. You take that as a sign to turn in.

“I’ll tell you about your daddy’s love for baseball tomorrow okay? I’ll even show you his prized baseball cards. but you can’t tell him or he’ll have my head.”

He’s knocked out by the time you lay him down. You pray he’ll sleep through the night, allowing you to earn to some much-needed shut-eye he’s deprived you of for months. After tucking him in, you tuck the photo of Donny under his pillow. You press a gentle kiss on his forehead, whisper a few sweet words to him, and then glide out of the room, leaving the door ajar in case he wails for your attention. You make do with this system until Jenny, Aldo's wife, takes you shopping for a baby monitor. She knows a lot more about baby care than you do.

Sleepiness is taking you hostage too with a yawn escaping your lips every 1-2 minutes but you had housework to complete before the morning arrives. Mostly just clearing out boxes of gifts the Donowitz family had sent from Boston. Some of them were open, others weren’t. Gifts like a microwave or other kitchenware were left in their respective box. You’ll deal with those on a later date.

There’s one box, though, that remains sealed. You inspect the plain cardboard container and see a word written across one side in neat cursive. But it isn’t the penmanship that has you gasping and dropping the box in shock.

No, it’s the word 'Donny' labeled across the surface that does.

It takes a moment or two for you to shake off the shock and another to get down to the ground. Sitting cross-legged, you stare at the box as if something will pop out and yell “surprise”—a harmful prank that will send you wailing for something you no longer had.

The knife seamlessly glides across the tape and you wonder when you reached for a knife in the first place. Your body is moving on its own accord without a thought concerning your mental wellbeing. While your heart thuds painfully against your ribcage, your hands steadily tear open the cardboard overlaps.

Taking a deep breath, you open the flaps and find a single sheet of paper covering the rest of the objects. It reads “for my darling daughter, with much love.” It’s signed “Mama Donowitz”.

Underneath the letter reveals a boatload of miscellaneous items from Donny's youth that he's shown to you with pride. His prized Lefty Grove signed baseball, favorite Wrigley's chewing gum, and his worn and torn favorite baseball glove stood out the most. Little things like that made you grin to the point where your cheeks reached your eyes. Anecdotes of Donny's childhood run through your mind—his voice echoing pure excitement. You take your time admiring each item, trying to permanently engrave them into your memory just like you had with his stories.

Then you find Donny's baby socks, embroidered with his name in red string. All resolve you bottled up for months disappeared instantly. You completely crumble.

You press the little socks to your chest as tears freely stream down your face and onto your neck, coating the bare skin with liquid. A wail bubbles up within you, crawling up your throat at a steady pace. But when you open your mouth to scream, nothing comes out. It dies in your throat. The only effort you can commit to is to rock back in forth, allowing sobs to shake your body. If someone saw you, they might have thought you were convulsing. They might have even called the ambulance.

The sobs don’t stop until hours later. By the time your heart calms down from its burning thrum, exhaustion envelops you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Aldo kicks some dirt on the side of the road while lighting up a Chesterfield. It doesn't take long for him to reach your house since it's down the road. He checks his wristwatch before knocking on the front door. He has about 45 minutes to meet Jenny at the factory. He'll spend 15 minutes here for coffee before leaving. You always made better coffee than his wife.

After some knocking and no response, Aldo takes it upon himself to check through the windows. Most of them are covered by curtains but the window facing the breakfast table isn't. He peers through, searching for you and his nephew wrapped in your arms.

Instead, he finds you on the floor with no baby in sight.

Aldo runs to the back door and searches for the hidden key. Besides the backdoor, he digs under the false rock where he remembered he put. It’s gone. The Chesterfield falls into the hole. He crushes it out and fixes the dirt on top. As an act of impulse, he stands up, goes to the backdoor, and punches out the small window panels on the door. The glass breaks easily and shards pierce his hand just as smoothly. Just glancing at it, he can tell his flesh is free from any lingering shards. A clean slice on his wrist bleeds moderately.

He reaches on the opposite side of the door and tugs at the locks. Not a second later, the door slams open, and you shoot up in an upright position.

Immediately, a fury of questions spews out of Aldo's lips, blending together and becoming unintelligible to your groggy brain.

"Is it morning already? I swear I took a five-minute na—" You see Aldo's bleeding hand and gasp, reaching out to inspect his wound. Your current position on the floor completely escaping you for a moment. Aldo lets you worry for right now.

You drag him up to the sink and run his hand over the open water. "Will I be alright, doc?" His odd accent leaves a few letters out. It reminds you of someone you try not to think about. "Ain't seen such a wound since the war."

Briefly glancing at him, he throws a wink and you gratefully smile. "You're the bane of my existence." You take his hand out of the water to wrap it in a big Band-Aid. It has crude miniature drawings of Mickey Mouse that make Aldo question them. "Just in case either your kids or mine get hurt, they'll immediately cheer up at seeing Mickey. Band-Aid should really invest in designing their product. Who knows how much money they could make?"

Aldo agrees as you finish. "You'll see another day, lieutenant"

He crookedly grins at you and thanks you for your service. You offer him some coffee which he enthusiastically agrees too. He checks his watch as he sits down at the breakfast table. Jenny will have his head if he's late. But he doesn't worry too much about that. She'll understand once he explains what happened.

"Mind tellin’ me why I caught a heart attack on this fine Thursday mornin’? Findin’ you sprawled out like freshly ran over roadkill?"

"Disgusting, Aldo." You say while passing him his mug of coffee. You turn around to fix yourself a toasted bagel with cream cheese. "I guess I was so tired last night that I fell asleep sorting out the gifts." You lazily wave your hand at the unsorted boxes on the floor.

Aldo walks over to the opened box in the middle of the kitchen and grabs the socks you dropped hours ago. He looks them over and notices a letter embroidered on the top. 'D' in red thread.

"Those are Donny's." You confirm. Aldo meets your glazed gaze.

Aldo sucks in a quick breath. It finally clicks in his head. Jenny will understand.

“Darlin—" You look up at him with such a depressed expression that immediately shuts him up. All he does is gather you in his arms and rests his chin on your head.

He hears you mumble something about how small Donny's feet were before you silently cry into his chest.

After a few seconds, Aldo's cheeks become wet with his own tears as he mourns over not only his friend but the lives he left behind.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1,661 published: august 21, 2020 edited: n/a

#donny #donny x reader #Donny Donowitz #sgt donny donowitz #donny donowitz fanfiction #donny donowitz x reader #donny donowitz imagine #inglorious basterds #inglourious basterds x reader #inglourious basterds imagine #inglourious basterds fanfiction #x reader #imagines #eli roth #my writing #fanfiction #anon requests

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lesbianlovelanguage · 4 years

Note

YOUTUBER AU I’m such a fucking sucker for those. It can be anything you want really. Maybe they are friends doing a challenge or something and they end up kissing (or more ;)) or they could meet each other at like a creator even and take a pic together and everyone starts to ship them... :)

HI! Anon I am so sorry, life has been *general handwaving* a MESS. But, I’ve finally gotten most of my shit together and look! A fic! Finally!!! I hope you enjoy two ridiculous boys being ridiculous.

---

“You guys asked for it, and here it is. The explanation to Bendy and the Ink Machine! Now, I’ve watched a ton of playthroughs of this, especially The RatKing’s, as well as played through it myself, and I think I’ve got it.”

Such a simple statement, it made it through both of the editors as well as Steve and Dustin themselves without raising any red flags. But as with everything, once it had been released on the internet it became fuel for fans to break apart and over analyze.

The comments started pouring in, the standard mix of support and people trying to break apart his theory. But one comment in particular would stand out and begin something so much bigger than itself.

Twenty minutes after Steve had pressed upload, someone with the username Random Hoe posted a comment saying Awe! A collab between you and Billy would be totes amazing!! While an innocent comment in itself, it began to pick up steam as people ranted and demanded for the two popular youtubers to interact more. It turned from video ideas to outright shipping within two hours, and only five hours after the video had been up, people began tagging Steve on Twitter with everything from edited screen grabs to fanart and video edits, all about Steve and Billy’s secret yet undying love for each other.

Steve had almost quit Youtube as the fanbase for what had been dubbed “Stilly” steadily grew and became all the more ravenous. There were less and less comments and reactions to his theories, whether movie, video game, or even book related, and more and more comments about how he needed to do a collab with Billy ASAP, and how he’s queerbaiting, and how it’s okay to come out, it was 20Gayteen after all. He had tried to do damage control, but it only made things worse.

And then someone showed Billy, and Steve not only wanted to quit Youtube, but also crawl under a rock.

Billy’s only reaction to someone sending him a picture of Steve and Billy during a live stream was “Nice art, like the hair,” but Steve could have sworn his mouth twitched down in a grimace before Billy recovered his composure.

But Dustin had convinced Steve to keep going, and with two months of no recognition or new content, the frenzy of Stilly shipping died down. It never disappeared, but no one sent anymore art to Billy and stopped tagging Steve in all of their posts. That had been in February.

Vidcon was in June, and Stilly was the least of Steve’s worries. He’d been asked to host a panel on the new game show he and Dustin had begun hosting on Youtube TV about pop culture trivia, and then host a live episode with various Youtube guests as competitors. It promised to be relatively simple, a simple explanation of the origin and behind-the-scenes and a simple Q&A session followed by what he spent every Thursday doing for the past two months. And it was, him and Dustin breezing through the panel bouncing off of each other and the first round of Did You Know? You Don’t Say? flying by as the famed beauty guru aced almost every question. But once the second guest stepped on stage, Steve knew it was all going to go to shit.

Because Billy Hargrove, The Rat King himself, swaggered out on the stage in flip flops and an Everlast crop top and flopped into the contestant’s chair with a smirk. Steve froze, mouth suddenly drier than a desert.

Luckily, Dustin didn’t even stutter. “Ah! The next victim. Should we go easy on him?” He waggled his eyebrows as he asked the audience. The audience shouting brought Steve out of his daze, and with a shake of his head, he turned and spread his arms out wide.

“Well then, let’s begin. So, Billy, Do you know what the rarest MnM color is?”

The cocky smirk melted off of Billy’s face, replaced by one of thoughtful determination. He’s silent for only a moment before he looks up and says, “Brown, like your eyes, Pretty Boy.” Steve feels his pale skin flush with heat, but he coughs and tries to play it off.

“Quite the charmer there, Rat King. Luckily, your lines are actually true. One point! Let’s see it!” He calls out and then looks behind him to the television screen currently displaying the scoreboard. A large blocky 1 appears and the audience cheers.

“Alrighty then,” Dustin says after the crowd dies down. “Next question. Billy, Do you know the original name of Istanbul?” Billy chuckles, and shakes his head.

“Easy. Constantinople.”

Dustin fake pouts and looks over to Billy. “None of that Rat King charm for me?” The audience laughs, and Billy chuckles before throwing a wink at Dustin.

“Not quite old enough to ride this ride, bud.”

Dustin scoffs and shakes his head, making the curls bounce around wildly. “Whatever you say, old man. You did get it right by the way. Let me see another point!” Dustin mimics Steve and gestures towards the scoreboard which now shows a big, white 2.

“Your turn, Pretty Boy. Give me something hard.”

“Alright. Let’s see.” Steve pretends to look over his notes before seeing the perfect question. “So, Billy, Do you know which two American states don’t observe daylight savings time?” Billy stares blankly at Steve. This was the final question in their lineup, but he had asked for a hard question.

Luckily, Billy recovers quickly and clears his throat before giving another chuckle. “Damn, I know I said give me a hard one, but I wasn’t expecting that. I’m gonna go with Hawaii and Alaska?” Steve shakes his head and gives a small sigh.

Dustin gives a little cheer, and then runs over to a table off to the side of the stage where they have a cue card that the contestant has to read off of if they lose. It was Dustin’s idea, the You don’t say? part of the title. It’s his favorite part of the show, because they get to see their contestants say some ridiculous things.

“Well, unfortunately, that was incorrect,” Steve announces over the booing audience. “And, following the rules, you now have to read whatever is on this card.” Dustin hands Billy the cue card with a wicked grin.

Billy sighs and flips over the card. There’s a moment of silence as he reads over what the card says, and then he looks up at Steve and clears his throat.

“Would a Pretty Boy want to go out with me?” He says in a clear voice, gaze never leaving Steve’s.

Suddenly too many things for Steve to process happen at once. He feels the heat return to his cheeks and his mouth dry out again, the audience goes wild, and a buzzer sounds, signaling that they were out of time for Did You Know? You Don’t Say? Dustin comes through and pushes a frozen Steve off-stage, where Billy is waiting in the wings. With the audience’s weighty gaze gone, the feeling returns to Steve all at once.

“What the hell man? What was that out there?” He hissed at Billy. The man simply shrugs and gives another one of his trademark smirks.

“Just giving the people what they want, Princess. Try to keep up.” And then he turns around, and walks away. Simple as that. Nothing to it.

Steve wants to scream. Fortunately, he and Dustin have been friends for years, and he knows all of Steve’s tics by now. The stagehands shoo them from the wings, and he pulls Steve through one of the backdoors to outside the convention center. Somehow, he also procures a water bottle in the hustle, and hands it to Steve once they’re both sitting on the steps outside. Steve takes the water bottle gratefully and chugs half of it in one long gulp. He pulls it away and wipes at his face before sighing. He seems to deflate, like a balloon losing all of its helium at once, and Dustin puts an arm around him. It’s awkward because he’s shorter than Steve, but it’s still comforting nonetheless.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dustin asks quietly.

“I- I’m so stupid. For just a second I thought it was real, but why would it be? What would someone like him see in someone like me?” Dustin lets out a huff before pulling away and turning towards Steve.

“Steve, buddy, pal o’ mine. You’re an idiot. If anything, he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a pompous ass for pulling a stunt like that. It’s bullshit.”

“He could have anyone. Between his paycheck and his pecs, he’s one of Youtube’s hottest content creators.”

“Yeah, sure. But for the sake of alliteration, he also lacks personality. The guy’s a huge dick! And he proved it today. He knew that you wouldn’t shut him down and bitch him out on stage, so he thought it would be funny to pull that shit.”

“Yeah, he is kind of just a publicity-seeking asshole, you’re right,” Steve admits, feeling a little better, and a lot angrier. “You know what, Dusty-Poo? I’m gonna find him, and give him a piece of my mind.” He stands up, itching for a fight and knowing who to go find for one.

“Tha-that’s not exactly what I meant but sure! Go knock him down a peg.” Dustin stands up as well and follows Steve back onto the main showfloor.

It takes about twenty minutes to find Billy amongst the crowd but Steve sees him, and locks in like a tiger stalking his prey. Or something cool like that. Thankfully, Steve doesn’t have to make a huge scene as he walks up to Billy and gets in his face.

“You. Me. Conference Room 3. Now,” Steve says, poking a finger in the middle of Billy’s chest to emphasize his point. Billy chuckles, but still follows along as they walk into the empty conference room. Once they clear the doors and Steve hears them swing shut behind them, he turns to Billy.

“Explain. What the fuck was the point of that little,” he wavs his hand around, “stunt you pulled during the game show?”

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Told you Pretty Boy. I gave the people what they wanted.

“So that’s it? It was a publicity stunt?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who started the whole thing,” Billy shoots back, still holding on to an air of nonchalance, but Steve can his patience waning.

“You- you mean the stuff from February? When I happened to mention you in one video? You think I meant for that shitstorm to start, for fun and publicity?”

Billy only shrugs again.

“Okay. Nope. Again, I mentioned your channel one time, as a source. Gave credit where credit was due. I do it for all the channels I watch! I’ve mentioned Nancy’s channel like 8 times, and Jonathan’s too. Never had this shit started with them.”

“They’re married, Steve. Like super married. Of course it wouldn’t. We’re both single, queer youtubers. Of course shit’s gonna stop. Didn’t your agent or whoever look over your video?”

Steve huffs. “Oh yeah, let me just go hire an agent, cause I have such a need for someone to monitor my every move,” Steve snarked. Billy just looked at him like he had failed to add 2 and 3.

“You’re telling me you, part of one of the biggest channels on Youtube, don’t have an agent?”

“We’re not one of the biggest channels, and we’ve never needed one! We’ve got our team of editors and assistants, no need for some agent.”

“Steve,” Billy says patiently, like he was explaining something to a child, “You have over 4 million subscribers. That’s a big channel.”

“We’re still not one of the biggest channels, dipshit.”

“Oh, I'm the dipshit? I didn’t start a fucking fandom frenzy apparently by accident. Because I was smart and got a fucking agent.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Whatever you say Princess.”

“Stop fucking calling me a princess!” Steve screams, voice booming in the silent conference room. “Why do you do that? Pretty Boy, Princess, Stevie? Just- just stop with the fucking nicknames. It’s not fair.” The second part of his outburst comes out as a whisper, sounding almost desperate.

Billy was at a loss for words, but then again, he had always been more of a man of action.

So he says nothing, only gives a seconds’ thought of what he was going to do, before lunging forward and doing it.

Steve’s next words are muffled as Billy crashes their lips together with absolutely no finesse, teeth clacking. It probably constituted as the worst kiss Billy has ever had, but as he moves back, Steve grabs a fist full of blond locks and pulls him forward. Their

second kiss is far better. By no means is it soft, but that was just par for the course with them wasn’t it?

The kiss comes to a natural ending as they both pull back to breath, before Steve starts to giggle.

“You really need to work on your pick-up lines, Rat King.”

A soft gasp from the doorway cuts off Billy’s retort, and they both turn to see a girl decked out in Youtube merch, including a jacket with the Upside Down Theories logo on it. She had dropped her backpack, and was open-mouthed gaping at the two. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates as she frantically gathers up her backpack and shoots out of the conference room.

“Chances that this blows up online by tomorrow?” Steve asks, turning to the blond next to him.

“I’m betting in the next two hours, Pretty Boy,” Billy replies.

A wicked smirk creeps onto Steve’s lips as he shrugs and says, “Oops. What was that about getting an agent to help with this stuff?”

---

Aside from this taking FOREVER, I hope you guys enjoy this! It was tons of fun to write.

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @catharrington @trashycatarcade @myboyfriendsteve @thesummerof84 @lightsupinthenorth @smashmouth-hargrove (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

#tay writes #AGAIN FINALLY #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #youtuber au #anon asks #tons of fun to write!!!

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Pacify Her (Chase Collins AU) (Sneakpeak)

Lemon oneshots that inspired me to create this into a series: Part 1 Part 2

Characters: (18+) SugarBaby!Sub!Chase Collins x You

Overview: Your life has been full of conceit, deceit and malfeasance. Born with a golden spoon in her mouth, Y/N has her life with burdens weighing on her shoulders. With men crawling before her and only one purpose in their minds, it was to be the successor on the wealth that she and her family had. Little did the fellows know, she was married and was one manipulative, ruthless, wealthy dame and she knew one man's plan if she sees fit.

Thus, her mindset didn't phase one mischievous, cunning and obscure man who had his coverts kept where humans couldn't bother to even know because it was too atrocious to start.

One man who had a dour heart who'll manage to corrupt you in the most sinful way. Though, he didn't know that the wickedness he had would bind with yours. He was different among the flocks of men, literally and philosophically because he certainly didn't mind the sins which will soon live upon you both. Those sins that would eat you both alive.

Chase Collins is your evil, witchy, baby boy. The only baby boy you owned, wanted and cared about.

Therefore, he had no right to leave.

Warning: Sugar baby content, infidelity, filthy AF, There’s a lot? of? dirty ass smut in this whole series (ISTG), Toxic relationship. Reader's one toxic bitch. (18+) This can be quite dark? Hehehe? SUB CHASE COLLINS! I don’t even know if that’s considered a warning? Hehehhe.

A/N: I’ll be creating a Masterlist for this once I finish writing the 1st chapter for this series of mine. Tell me what you think about this! I just wanted to try and see if y’all will like this! Send me an ask if ya’ wanna be included in the taglist!

Disclaimer: GIF'S and PNG'S aren't mine, however the whole one shot and edits are rightfully mine to begin with.

Scourging sounds of mirth deafening the stillness inside the elevator where you were both trapped in. Amidst of the discussion running between the both of you. He needed sanitation. You both needed sanitation, cleansing, stabilization because of what has happened between your dueling. You, together needed some psychological help with all the toxicity fuming inside your fiendish ambitions and regimens.

It was an entire blackout, the thought of a sudden sombre in the daylight was doubting you that he had to do with this. The ire he was spitting out of his mouth proves you why he certainly controlled the power of your building because he was in wrath.

Chase Collins was in an outrage because you had everything wrapped around your finger. Even him and it wasn't supposed to be that way because it should've been the other way around.

Yet, he didn't regret cowering before you like a child whom was scared of his own mother because he was actually one in your life and he planned to be.

"I didn't know you had a husband," He spoke lowly and tauntingly as he caged you in his arms, his words were like vile to his heart because he sounded ruined, shattered and under fire. He wasn't supposed to be like this, he was supposed to be heinous, infernal and substantial but it seemed like the world rolled on the ground and now you were on top, the one who had the last laugh and it was maddening him to the fullest.

You let out a ear-screeching giggle, jesting him till he would detonate. Chase's jaw clenched from the sound because he still felt the need to hug you and for you to cuddle him back. Treat him like he was your baby.

It's because its true. He's your baby boy. The only one whom you've risk your marriage with.

Hence, you were his little secret where he could find solace in the midst of his monstrous abnormality of trying to be human.

"Yet, you knew I had a girlfriend and you tried your best to ruin us, me." His voice was shaking from anger, wanting to laugh in spite of the betrayal he was feeling. You were supposed to be crying because his resentment should fear you, though all those anguish felt like everything was falling in your hands and in the right time.

He hated you for looking so vindicated, small and almighty when being guiltless should be the least of what you looked like.

Nonetheless, he would still cave in because it was you.

"What's there to ruin when its already ruined in the first place, Chase." Your euphonious voice, he remembered how soughing it had been and it's still there and he hated you for it again because he couldn't stop the way he felt for you and it was breaking his strong facade apart.

"You made me break up with her," the lights to the elevator turned on and off as he emphasized his words with gritted teeth, getting a glimpse of his ruddy face that was making you feel a little weird, a fathomable feeling forming in the pit of your stomach and you were quick to grab onto his black tie that was hanging out of his coat. He stiffened and you grinned against the darkness surrounding you both.

"I didn't," you stood on your tippy toes, warm breath fanning his ears, giving him a weird feeling of just taking you up inside the elevator for all he wants as he was controlling the whole blackout situation. He could hear the jocularity slipping with your words and it was driving him insane.

He was insane.

A witch has always been insane. Psychopathic. Or maybe it was only him?

"You made the choice all by yourself, I'm not the bad guy here. I'm just a giver, your confidante, the only person who could support you in this life you have. I literally give you everything, Baby. Every, damn, thing." your words came out as seething. The mouth against his ear scratching his earlobe that could make him kneel before you. Kneel before the queen as he sees it fit.

He would. For you. Only for you.

You continued your little twitting, the smug grin never leaving your face. "You want me to leave my husband? Is that what you want to be, baby? A homewrecker?"

Chase's lips formed a thin line, tightly biting half of his lips in between his gritted teeth because no matter how bad that sounded, it seemed the only thing possible to say. It was the truth, he was because he was your baby boy. The latter could feel his diabolic state of mind roaring in the back of his brain. It wasn't like he had never been insidious. He still is, especially with what happened a month ago.

Burning.

The barn.

Caleb.

Ipswitch.

His two-month ex-girlfriend.

The will to have that power..

"I do," Your baby boy murmured as the lights to the elevator was flicking on and off in the most chilling way. You've stared up at him, eyelashes fluttering like a cherub watching behind the clouds. He hated you, still. Albeit, the hate he felt was actually adoration, passion or love if humans may call it.

Chase Collins never felt so much connected towards a human before and he loved it. He loves you, yet he also hated you at the same damn time.

"I'm your homewrecker, as long as I'm the only one," At long last, the lights finally flickered on. The brightness making you squint your eyes shut before you were met with a pair of black ones which should trigger you to run to the hills because he was showing you who he was.

Strangely enough, you were more drawn to him than any other woman would. Not even his ex-girlfriend would accept him, only you because you already knew him deep down. His secrets, his mysteries and the certain blood that runs inside his glorious body.

He was a witch. He was one of those warlocks and the thought never bothered you ever because you accepted him. You still wanted him despite of it.

"Let me be the one to ruin your marriage," his smile was sinister, like a diabolical plan was about to unleash. "I can be anything you want, Mistress."

He roughly snatched the tie off your hands, blinking in the process as his once black eyes turned to normal. A fiery gold outline flashing around the blackness of his eyes before consuming the normality of what color he wanted. Now, the hues of his baby blue eyes sparkling against the lights of the lift ignited a beam out of you. You had him on the rocks. You were his. It should end up that way. It always does. The latter's fingers straightaway went up to the first button beneath his collar, hastily unbuttoning with heedful need as the elevator never moved its spot. Chase being the one to control the lights to the lift you had and you definitely knew why. The boy knew you all along.

"Ruin me if you must, my evil miss muffet."

Despite of the depravity you were both feeding off each other, together you laughed as though the perniciousness was making you both satisfied with your lives.

My divider is contrasting with the content of this post of mine. HAHAHAHHA Fook me, Chase--I mean. Yeah. You get what I mean. Gosh, this is so wicked. Y’all gotta throw me in a bucket of holy water. 🤣🤐🤣😎🤣

XOXO,

TATA (SEBASTIAN’S POTATO BITCH)

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creamypudding · 4 years

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The Anomaly part 2 - snippet

Diving back into The Anomaly feels like this when I try to explain it to myself or others -

I forgot the sheer amount of world-building I’ve done for this story. It feels like I need a wall of papers to keep track of it all, and yet, a lot of it also comes flooding back as I sift through the material. I did a read-through and edit of Part 1 and thought I could hop straight into part 3 and get writing, seeing as part 2 is done, but I am wrong, wrong, WRONG, so wrong! I looked through part 3 and cursed myself out for past Pudding leaving so much stuff unclear. There is a section where there are many different characters all with aliases and I have no recollection if they are game characterd or OC’s I made, which side-tracked me considerably and stopped me from writing anything, Part 3 is the sticking point for me. It’s why I put this project on hiatus, because part 3 has the least amount of planning. I know exactly what happens in part 4, but part 3.... I have a vauge idea but so much is left uncertain. So much is left to be written!!

Anyway, I absolutely love this story and I wish it would write itself. I’m very excited to get back into this world and finish it, hopefully, in the next 2/3 months.

Please note this story (when completely posted) gets depraved and lewd and has a lot of dub-con, but that’s okay, because we are in a fantasy AU. For anyone who’s never read this and doesn’t know what I’m on about - Axel is an incubus and meets Roxas one Halloween and they have a lot of sex. It’s very messy and dirty and there is cum everywhere. There is also a lot of world building and I am hella excited about finishing this writing project - because Axel and Roxas deserve to be together and not live on separate planes of existance, so a lot of words are needed to give them their Happy Ever After. The below snippet is an early part in Part 2 - Axel, returned to his home from a night of SO MUCH SEX is very mopey and gets a visitor, who is also not very impressed with how depressed Axel is.

The flutter of bat wings occasionally rouses Axel from slumber. He gives Reno glares, swats him away with his wings, or tail, rolls over, and falls unconscious again.

For how long this continues Axel doesn't know, nor would he care, but one time Reno poofs out of his bat-form and sits on the large stone table in the middle of Axel's abode.

"Yo, what's wrong with you?" Reno grumbles, sitting on his ass, knees up and arms resting on them.

"Nothing. Just a food coma," Axel croaks, his throat coarse and dry. How long has it been since he has eaten or drunk anything? Too long, yet he still doesn't feel like he's wasting away. He feels overstuffed… and weathered and beaten by emotions every second he is conscious. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing for sleep to take him once again; his head hurts and there is a sharp ache in his chest.

"You're a shit liar," Reno harps on, his voice grating. "What happened to you out there? This isn't like you."

Axel grinds his teeth. "Nothing happened. Leave me alone."

"Not before you give me what I want. It's been too long. We made a pact. You feed me when I need it, and Adra," Reno growls, "I need it." He slams his fist against the stone-hewn table.

Axel rouses from his cocooning slumber, his blood pulsing and heat sparking. "Bit of hunger shows up and you call me that?" Axel's lips uncontrollably raise in a snarl.

"You're keeping that raw feed to yourself." Hunger glints in Reno's eyes. He's on all fours, crawling toward Axel's sleeping spot, slow, predatory.

"Don't look at me like that," Axel threatens, hating the greedy tone in Reno's voice.

Reno continues his slow creep toward Axel, in a low, threatening voice, he husks, "Give me what I want! Either an explanation or a feed. Preferably both!"

"Nothing happened,” Axel insists through grit teeth. Speaking about it… about him with anyone… he can’t bring himself to entertain it. It’s too raw, too personal, too… embarrassing. The things he did. The things he said. Those empty promises… he can't believe how much that meatsack has gotten under his skin. “Do you even care about me?” he throws out, a half-formed thought, not ready to be voiced, but there it is.

Reno stops his crawl, tilts his head and stares up at Axel, nonplussed. With startling speed he leaps up, his face right in Axel’s, seething, “What happened to you? Admit it!”

“Nothing!” Axel snaps, his teeth bared and his forehead pushed against Reno’s.

“Like Heaven’s Asshole it’s nothing! You tell me what happened or you give me what’s my due,” Reno snarls, his hands on Axel, his claws digging; his hunger too great to even care to think that Axel has the upper hand.

Axel grips Reno’s wrists, twisting them, pulling the claws off himself. A raw growl leaves his throat, his dander is up. He feels affronted seeing this side of Reno directed at himself, when for an eon they have remained amicable and close. "I don't owe you shit," Axel growls, flinging his wings out either side of himself, a menacing reflex.

“You do, you reckless mistake,” Reno spits with bile and venom, knowing where to hurt Axel the most. “Who do you think got you of that dungeon?”

Axel shudders with abhorrent rage, his body glows red, his tail ramrod straight, and he squeezes Reno’s wrists so tight, he can almost feel the bones inside cracking, but Reno doesn’t budge, doesn't pull away, doesn’t let weakness or fear show. He still thinks he can contain Axel… he’s probably right. Axel powers through his anger to arrive at thoughts—at words; “You said we were brothers. That we would look out for each other. We are the same—banished.”

“We are,” Reno glares dangerously, his eyes burning with green fire. “So give me what I want and I will be what you treasure," he says, his face pulled into a hideous mask of anger.

Axel startles at that word-choice. His grip relaxes for a fraction of a second long enough to let Reno have the upper hand, pushing Axel over, landing on top of him. He caresses Axel’s cheek, traveling up to his mane and… horn. There is a coolness to his touch and his face wears a devilish smirk. He husks, “I will hold you and lick your horns,” he slowly traces a finger up the bumps of Axel’s horns, eliciting a tingle along Axel’s spine, “and I won't even tell anyone about how you've lost yourself and—fallen for a meatsack,” Reno suppresses a laugh.

Axel’s embarrassment, mixed with anger, explodes. He roars and flings himself up, lunging at Reno, tearing at his skin and hair. Reno poofs, his tiny bat wings faltering to work in unison for a second, but then he manages it and squeaks up toward the ceiling. Axel jumps up after him, his powerful wings raising him up into the lofty parts of his home. He reaches out, struggling to clutch at Reno’s small form.

They race against each other. Reno flits through a crack in the rock, which opens up to the cloud-filled sky. Axel slams into the rocks, finding purchase for his hands and feet. He glares through the crack, seeing Reno’s gleaming eye on the other side and hearing his grating laugh.

“So it's true.” Reno laughs even more. “I was kidding about the meatsack, but… wow. You really were made completely wrong. Daddy-dear truly wasn’t thinking when he made you.”

Axel bellows out of rage and smashes his fist against the rock, causing a sharp sting of pain to course down his arm. Shards of rock break and fall to the ground below.

Reno laughs some more, but less of a mock, more dry and displeased now. “You’re no good to me like this. Get your horns screwed on right again. We need each other. Nobody else will have our backs. I’ll return to check on you later.”

“I don’t need you,” Axel screeches, but Reno’s already gone. Axel strains to loosen his tight grip and plummets for a moment before gliding back down to the ground. His head hurts, his arm radiates with stinging agony, and his throat is parched. He knows he can’t keep hiding away. It’s not making him feel any better, and now he’s lost the one ally he’s had in this world. And then there is the meatsack, the hooman—human—Axel corrects himself, imagining the disdained on that cute little face. Mirth bubbles up for the first time since that night. It quickly crashes, leaving him with an ache which curls Axel’s lips up into a sad sneer. Roxas. A well of deep sorrow gushes forth. He breathes it down. How long has it been now? Axel doesn’t know. Long enough for Reno to look gaunt again, and to feel his hunger pangs. Long enough for the frenzy outside to have died down, he hopes.

Axel looks down at himself. He still barely recognizes himself with how buff and filled out he is. Even after a long hibernation following his past feeds, he usually doesn't retain such an overstuffed appearance for very long. He can't believe how potent his feeding with that small creature had been. There had been so much feeding. A frenzy really. And his own cum leaving him—that uncontrollable tugging and release he felt inside himself… something about it niggles at him. A hint of forgotten familiarity.

#writing project #the anomaly #axel #roxas #AkuRoku #axel is an incubus #reno is a vampire #snippet #the anomaly part 2

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tenshibeth1 · 6 years

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Now and Forever- Part 1

Sess-Kag Week 2k18

Canon take-off. Sequel to Written In The Stars.

(Wow this is longer than I'd meant it to be! This story had a mind of its own... 0.0 I hope you all enjoy! ^,^ )

(Edit: It is so big I have to divide it into separate posts. Sorry for the inconvenience!)

Prompt:

Day 3 - Sudden, steal, soft, breeze

Dark clouds loomed overhead, the brisk breeze warning Kagome that the storm was coming. Her white and blue traditional garb whipped around her as she struggled to pick a few more herbs that hadn't been completely roasted by the harsh summer sun. "Just a little more," Kagome pleaded with the sky as she plucked a green root from beneath the soil. She had no such luck. Lightning streaked across the sky, thunder cracking right along behind it. As if it was a signal, a sudden heavy downpour began. She was drenched before she had even gotten to her feet. "Great!" Kagome groaned as she pulled her woven basket to her chest and darted under trees. They provided minor protection from the driving rain, but it was something, at least. However...she had wandered too far away from Edo to simply sprint back to the dry comfort of her hut. Vision blurred and feet slipping along slickening mud, she decided to search for shelter elsewhere. There were caves around there somewhere...she just had to find them.

Visibility really was terrible. She stumbled into numerous trees and thickets in her search for a safe place to crash. Twigs and leaves caught in her long tresses; limbs and thorns scratched and tore into her tender skin. And she was pretty sure she pulled something in her left ankle in one of her mud slides... Gasping for breath, ribs burning, Kagome slipped and grasped for what looked like a tree...but it was a dense thicket. She fell right through. "Shhhiii-uhhnn!" The basket went flying as she fell through...onto a hard, flat, rock. The pain registered first, a burning-stinging sensation in her limbs, her knees scraped up right along with her forearms. Kagome scrambled to get on all fours, searching out the basket and some of the fallen herbs. It was about that point that she'd found four escaped herbs that it dawned on her. She crashed onto a rough, rocky surface...ergo, she was very close to a cave. Grabbing one more herb, Kagome crawled her way back to the rocks, following the trail into the mouth of the cave. Kagome was finally given reprieve from the onslaught of water...

Sliding the basket farther in, she just laid out on the dry, sandy floor for a long moment, panting and trying to tune out the burning in her body from running and the stinging of her scratches and scrapes. She expanded her reiki, searching the cave for possible youkai threats or signs of life anywhere within. It was empty, thank the gods! Kagome slowly hefted herself up into a sitting position, wincing and hissing as she did. Man she was sore! And getting chilled. The weather was cooling off rapidly. While it wasn't cold by any definition, Kagome was soaked to the bone and the whipping wind did nothing to ease the coolness from her flesh. Goosebumps raised and she cursed as she began to tremble. She had to take off her sopping wet clothes. Peering outside, she could only see hints of green and brown amid the storm. Lightning lit the sky as thunder rumbled behind it, but the visibility wasn't any better. If she couldn't see out, no one could probably see in, either. She hoped. With reluctance, Kagome untied the ties of her hakama and shimmied out of them. Her left ankle hit the rocky ground and pain flooded in.

"Oowwww...geeeeeeez," she groaned, freeing her legs from the fabric. Parting her white kimono and nagajuban, Kagome slid her hands along her smooth left leg to her very obviously swollen ankle. "Great...that's all I needed...," She sighed. But there wasn't much she could do for it. The herbs she'd managed to pick weren't anything she could use for swelling. Untying her kimono, Kagome shed both it and the nagajuban. She used the tie, still soaked and cool, to wrap around her ankle. Maybe the coolness would help reduce the swelling before she was able to get out. Spreading her clothes out on the floor to dry, she wrung out her waist-length locks before crawling around on hands and knees in the dark- carefully keeping her ankle off the ground. She felt out the floor as she went, finding a nook in the side of the cave. It wasn't very big...maybe with enough room for two people to squeeze in. But it was out of the way of the chilling wind. Kagome shuffled in and situated herself with her back to the wall, legs drawn to her chest. The storm had only just begun...and it looked like it might rage on for a while. With another sigh, she laid her head down on top of her knees and erected a small barrier that encompassed the cave. And now...the wait...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lord Sesshoumaru...you're soaked," Sango greeted the daiyoukai at the door of her hut and ushered him in, handing him a length of cloth to dry off with all the while. He inclined his head in thanks.

"Where is the miko?" He asked instead of greeting them, merely holding the cloth in hand as the water-logged Inu stood near to the door. He was entirely uncomfortable being as wet as he was, dressed. The clothes stuck to his skin right along with his silver strands of hair. But he did nothing to convey his discomfort. Sango and Miroku's very much dry kids were playing cheerily by the fire.

"She went out hours ago to gather herbs...," Sango informed with a worried nibble to her lip. "The storm started in, and there's been no trace of her..."

"How long has it been since the storm began?" His eyes narrowed perceptibly.

"A couple of hours, maybe...Miroku went out to see if he could find her," Sango replied, her every pore dripping with worry. And she was right to be. Any human in this weather would not be well-off...not to mention the possibility of illness or incident of either the youkai sort or that of nature. Sesshoumaru was not happy. "We hoped maybe she had found-!" She was interrupted by a huff and a gasp as Miroku staggered in and fell to his knees as he panted softly. "Miroku!" Sango was at his side in the blink of an eye, hand on his shoulder. Sesshoumaru blinked at the monk. The rain was so droning that he hadn't even heard the ningen coming... All of his senses were dulled by that damned water falling from the heavens. This was exactly why he hated rain...

"I'm...alright," Miroku panted, water quickly pooling around him as he looked up at Sango with a tired but loving smile.

"You didn't find the miko," Sesshoumaru spoke with his usual stoic mask, only his tone betraying his disappointment.

"It's not...that I didn't...," Miroku shook his head, gazing up at the daiyoukai as his amber eyes narrowed just a bit more. Miroku's black hair clung to his face, water droplets streaming down like tears. His face was etched with regret. "I couldn't...reach her. She was too far out...and with the weather as it is...the paths are hazardous. Too much for humans...I know my limitations... But, she's holed up in the North-West somewhere... There's some small mountains there, and I hope...she found shelter in them... I followed the feel of her reiki for a while- that's how I found...out which direction she went. Kagome is staying stationary somewhere in that general direction...and that is all I can say for certain."

"...You did well," Sesshoumaru praised, dropping the cloth Sango had given him onto the drenched monk. Miroku looked up at him in wide-eyed shock. Sesshoumaru wasn't one to give compliments very often. Only when they were well-deserved. And this was one of the rare few times. Because the monk had useful information to go on. If Sesshoumaru had been searching for Kagome in this weather with his youki and she wasn't using her reiki...it was similar to trying to find a star behind dense clouds. Murky at best with unfavorable results. But she was using her reiki...so her light would penetrate said metaphorical clouds. He could find her. The terrain was a bother, but it wasn't as much of a problem for him as it was for humans. Without a word, Sesshoumaru turned and began walking out of the hut.

"W-wait!" Sango called after him. Sesshoumaru paused. "Where are you going?!"

"To retrieve the miko," he replied simply. Before more could be said or asked, Sesshoumaru was speeding out of the hut and into the downpour. Instead of using his other senses...which were completely useless to him at the moment, he opened up his youki and spread it out as he started North-West. At first he couldn't feel her reiki. And he was partially distracted by the rain. Going at his normal speed- which far exceeded Inuyasha's- in the driving rain and harsh winds gave him wind burn. Nasty red splotches that burned and stung his flesh enough to make his fingers curl. It would be gone within moments of stopping somewhere, but it was an unneeded annoyance nonetheless. It almost kept him from recognizing the weak pulse of Kagome's reiki. He did stop then, after about half an hour of relentless searching. The rain was an annoyance in so many ways...but he closed his eyes and focused passed the cold water to the weakening reiki. His youki poured out like a tidal wave, searching out what should have been a conflicting energy, and it washed over the reiki...an aura so pure and refreshing that it could only be the miko's. Her power was ebbing away...she was weakening. Was she being attacked? Was she wounded? Knocked unconscious? In some sort of predicament? He couldn't tell. The only thing he knew for sure, besides her far-off location, was that there were no youkai within several meters of her. Strange, but he wasn't complaining. His golden eyes opened, flaming with ambition and purpose. "I am coming....Kagome." With an urgency he felt down deep in his bones, Sesshoumaru began sprinting in her direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Part 1

#sesskag week 2k18 #sess kag week 2k18 #sesshkag #day 3 #part 1

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kaette-kita-slayers · 6 years

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Slayers V.1 Translation Comparison (Part 1, ~p.24)

This is the first installment of a comparison of the Tokyopop translation of the Slayers novels against the original Japanese. There are a ton of changes, so it's not going to be possible for me to catalogue every single one---I'd have to retranslate almost everything in order to do that! I'm focusing on things that make some kind of difference to the narrative, or that strike me as being of interest.

I apologize if the formatting is kind of confusing; I haven’t been able to come up with a better way to present it. ^^;

If you don't have a copy of the Tokyopop edition handy, this post from The Slayers Blog has the first chapter.

To start off, the first book is just titled Slayers!, with no subtitle. "The Ruby Eye" was added by Tokyopop.

The opening paragraphs are a good example of the kind of minor changes that I may not cover, since practically the entire book is like this:

English:

So there I was, tearing through the woods at top speed, a gang of murderous bandits hot on my tail.

Why were they chasing me, you ask? Well, it’s a long, boring story and besides, where I come from, it’s not all that odd to find yourself being chased through the woods at top speed by a gang of murderous bandits. Especially if you’re me.

If you really want to know why I can tell you, but you don’t need to know why. Actually, it’s probably safer if you don’t know. Look, it might ruin the story for you, okay? And you wouldn’t want to ruin the story, would you? Of course, you wouldn’t.

So anyway, where were we before I was so rudely interrupted? Ah, yes: I was tearing through the woods at top speed, a gang of murderous bandits hot on my tail.

Japanese:

They were after me.

... Okay, if you say, "So what?", I have to admit you've got me there... It's true that this isn't all that unusual, generally speaking, and it's practically an everyday occurrence for me in particular.

Still, stories have a certain structure, and you have to build up to the good stuff, so I'd appreciate it if you could just put up with it for now.

Anyway, they'd almost caught up to me.

It’s pretty heavily embellished, but everything in the English version has some basis in the Japanese text.

Missing from the English version: Lina mentions that she's in need of money because she hasn't had any work lately.

The "speck of pixie dust" line is sort of in the Japanese text, though she actually says "dirt from under a pixie's nail".

English:

Not being big on precautionary measures, I screeched to a halt and peeked out from beneath my hood to evaluate my options. The trees on either side of the road were too dense for me to cut through. Even at midday, I wouldn’t be able to see two feet in front of me.

Japanese:

I had been letting my mind wander, but then I came to a sudden halt.

Both sides of the road had a dense overgrowth of trees, stretching like a canopy overhead. The highway, devoid of travelers, stretched on ahead, cutting through them. The midday sun blazed down.

There’s nothing about Lina trying to cut through the trees or having trouble seeing. Or wearing a hood, for that matter.

English:

Now, when I say road, bear in mind that the road we were running on was more like a path. It was as though some guy had hacked his way through the woods with a machete, figuring that hiking single file was a fine method of travel. Weeds grew high on either side, and starting a scuffle in them was not exactly appealing.

Japanese:

Although it was a path stretching straight through the forest, it was fairly wide, with plenty of space for a violent confrontation. If I were foolish enough to stop in a spot where the road was narrow, they'd be able to slash at me from the thickets on either side.

Overall, the English version seems to be trying to make her sound surprised and worried, while in Japanese it's more like she noticed the bandits’ trap ahead of time and successfully avoided getting caught in a bad situation.

English:

Still, I had to say something to flush them out. “I know you’re there,” I shouted...

Japanese:

I thought about saying something to them, but I couldn't come up with anything witty, so I kept silent for the time being.

I stood there waiting, as a way of declaring, "I know you're following me."

Exactly the opposite.

English:

“Well, hello there, toots.”

Who’s it gonna be this time? I wondered. A talking skeleton, maybe? A zombie? Nope.

Japanese:

Lina actually says that not even a skeleton or zombie would say such a crappy cliched line nowadays.

They cut a sentence where Lina says that the bandit looks like the type of character that would be easily defeated before the halfway point of a story.

English:

No duh, genius.

“And now, here ya are, all by yer lonesome and at our mercy.” He licked his lips.

Japanese:

I couldn't take it anymore. I mean, I've always thought that creeps like this guy probably can't manage to cram even a hundred words into their brains, but still, couldn't he manage to find something a little less stereotypical to say?

English:

“Ya look like a biter, ya do, and I don’t fancy tussling with a gal who’d leave me marked.”

Japanese:

“If I fought you for real, I'd probably end up in a world of hurt.”

I get that they’re trying to emphasize that the bandit is a creep, but this still made me raise an eyebrow.

English:

“Speaking strictly as a professional, I gotta say I was impressed.”

Japanese:

“Even we wouldn't go that far.”

English:

No rest for the wicked, I always say.

Japanese:

My motto is, "The bad guys have no rights".

I can see how that would turn into "No rest for the wicked" except it's used incorrectly here, making it sound like Lina is talking about herself in Tokyopop's version. She's justifying her attack on the bandits in the original.

English:

“At first we figured we’d chase ya down and exact our revenge, in a fashion befitting our scurrilous reputation...”

Japanese:

“Now, normally we'd have to kill you or pursue you until every last one of us is dead in order to get revenge for the boss...”

It’s not an important difference, I guess, but I’m not sure why they dropped those details.

English:

Join up with you? I feel like I need to take a shower just for talking to you, cretin.

Japanese:

Lina adds a little aside in the narration:

I hate getting involved in anything crooked. ...I swear, really.

English:

I acted like I was thinking it over.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

"It’s what ya might call nonviolent conflict resolution, makin’ the best out of a had situation. Give and take: We make use of yer talents, and ya got yerself a gang. Ya give us back our stolen treasure, and we let ya keep breathing."

Japanese:

“You just do what I tell you, that's all. I'll make it worth your while, you won't want for anything. So how about it, doesn't sound so bad, does it?”

The English version sounds oddly threatening, considering that he’s trying to win her over.

Missing in English: Lina mentions that her attack on the bandits was several days prior to this.

English:

"Never know what kind of scum’s roaming around this neck of the woods. Ain’t no place to be a-napping."

Japanese:

“We're not gonna get anywhere if we keep hanging around here. We've gotta find a new home base.”

The word used for "home (base)" has the kanji for "sleep" in it, so I guess that's why the English version reads the way it does?

English:

Bear in mind, I hadn’t said a word since he’d started yammering. I stood there silently while he went on and on and on. And on. And on, some more. What is it with men loving to hear the sound of their own voice?

Right about the time he started winding down with, “So, toots, how’s about it?” I sensed another presence entering our sphere. Hmmm…

Japanese:

He was feeling pressured because of me. I had been entirely silent the whole time.

I have a naturally chirpy, girlish voice, so he'd probably feel relieved if I started talking. Of course, I felt no obligation to do so.

He just kept talking at me, while I simply stood there silently. He was clearly getting more and more irritated as I let him talk until he was blue in the face.

"So? What do you think, huh?"

There’s nothing about Lina sensing a presence in Japanese.

English:

I dug my heels in the ground to emphasize my point.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

Oh, bravo. I can see why it took you so long to come up with that one.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

Oh sure, the ten guys puffed up their chests and made a show of how tough they were, which I suppose I appreciated, but really. Ten guys? It was as if they had no faith in me. Sad.

Japanese:

The man was clearly shaken, to a hilarious degree. It must have unsettled him that I wasn't upset by the number of men out there.

English:

Those peabrains were way beneath my talents, and I was starting to get bored, when…

Japanese:

In that case, I'll have to settle this through force...

English:

“Shall I wait for you to call some friends, so we can have a fair fight?”

The presence I’d sensed earlier!

Japanese:

"Hold it right there."

Again, there’s nothing about a presence.

English:

Somebody cue the chorus of angels, would you?

Japanese:

The scene deserved a fanfare.

I just wanted to point this one out because I like the English translation here.

English:

“Piece of advice, fellas: If you all take off at a dead sprint now, a few of you might actually make it back to the rock you’ve crawled from under before I catch up and exterminate you like the vermin you are. One or two of you might even escape with your lives. That is, if you start right now.”

Japanese:

“You'd better turn tail and run back where you came from, you thieves. If you do, I'll at least spare your lives.”

It’s not that different, but the English version makes it sound like he wants to chase them down and kill them regardless, which isn't like Gourry.

English:

Not a bad threat, I thought.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

So what if she could’ve handled the whole thing on her own and the handsome rescuer in question didn’t have the verbal acuity she was hoping for? A gal can’t afford to be too picky these days, can she?

I can't find anything like this in the Japanese text. This and the preceding paragraph are both just Lina complaining about how unbelievably cliched the situation is, up to and including the handsome guy showing up out of nowhere.

English:

“Ya little… !”

Oh no. You think he’ll do any better this time?

“Ya impertinent cad!”

Guess not.

“We’re gonna feed ya both yer livers now! Have at ‘em, boys!”

Japanese:

This is all one line of dialogue with no comments from Lina.

English:

Anyway, there I was, shrieking like my life depended on it and pretending I had no idea what was going on around me. Sadly, the whole thing wrapped up quickly.

Japanese:

I got completely caught up in the whole shrieking thing, so I'm not sure exactly what happened, but at any rate, it wrapped up quickly.

English:

... had I not been a gifted sorceress with the enhanced hearing that accompanies that role...

What? That's not in the original at all.

English:

Just a kid? Okay. That stung a little.

Not there in Japanese.

English:

I mean, I like kids. I want to be a standup guy, but c’mon! Ten guys, I fought! Ten guys!

Not there in Japanese.

English:

What's the big deal, huh? At least I can run fast and my clothes hang right. Boobs are overrated, if you ask me.

Japanese:

It's true that sometimes I look younger than I really am...

English:

I guessed maybe all that blond hair was making it hard for him to see. I mean, if it had been me, I’d like to think I’d have figured out pretty quickly that the lovely creature before me was no helpless little kid.

Japanese:

The man couldn't see, since it was hidden by my hair, but I could tell that my eyebrow was twitching like crazy.

(It literally says the area around her temple was twitching, but that sounds weird in English, at least to me?)

English:

"I don’t live anywhere, exactly… I was just heading to Atlas City—”

Japanese:

"I don't have any particular destination in mind... I thought I'd go see Atlas City, for the time being..."

English:

... he said in a maddeningly condescending tone.

This isn’t there in Japanese, at least not at this point. There is an almost identical line a little later in the scene, attached to a different bit of dialogue.

The English version has a weird habit of rearranging the text slightly, which I mostly haven’t noted, but moving this line seems like an awfully pointless choice.

English:

What?! I don’t even think I understand what it is you think that I think that you don’t understand!

In retrospect, I think he thought he’d rescued a helpless little girl who’d been forced to live on her own as a result of some sort of tragedy At the time, I suspected he was going to keep spewing the same reassurances until he died of suffocation or I died of embarrassment. One of us had to put an end to it.

Japanese:

Ugh.

I had been desperately trying to keep from exploding with anger, as I tend to do, so I had kept my head down while I spoke, holding back my emotions. Apparently this guy had mistaken that to mean that he'd asked me about something I couldn't bring myself to talk about. He must have assumed that I'm some unfortunate little girl who had been forced to leave her hometown due to some kind of circumstances.

English:

“I’m an adventuress, off to see the world.” I was telling him the truth—which, incidentally, was no small feat for me!

The word "adventuress" seems like a weird choice to me. That and the "no small feat" part aren't in the original.

English:

Okay, now, this just sucks. For once in my life, I’m not making excuses!

I didn’t know what else to say.

Japanese:

... he said, as though he were patiently explaining something to a small child.

... I'm getting nowhere.

English:

... without succumbing to the temptation to commit the premeditated murder of a blond.

Japanese:

... my stomach might dissolve from the stress.

I like this paragraph in the English translation!

English:

He was obviously committed to the idea.

Japanese:

Who are you to decide that for me?!

English:

We hadn’t been on the road twenty minutes before he felt the need to speak again.

Japanese:

It just says "a little while", not "twenty minutes".

English:

I considered giving him a fake name, but honestly, I was too tired to see the point.

Japanese:

For an instant, out of sheer irritation, I considered giving him a fake name, but I decided not to since it would be pointless.

I wonder why the English version keeps de-emphasizing Lina’s anger in this scene?

English:

And I am a traveler. So maybe I left out a few important details. So what? Gourry had already proven he wasn’t the type to ask penetrating questions. I figured that he’d buy pretty much anything I wanted to sell him about my circumstances, which, as far as I was concerned, was a point in his favor.

Japanese:

It was utterly obvious that the part about being an ordinary traveler was a lie, yet Gourry deliberately didn't ask any questions to try to get to the bottom of things. He probably thought that I was lying because of some kind of circumstances.

The English version implies that Gourry isn’t asking questions out of stupidity or complacency, while in Japanese Lina assumes that he’s doing so out of (mistaken) consideration for her feelings.

English:

And he really wasn’t getting under my skin like I’d figured he would. Still, the prospect of being treated like a kid all the way to Atlas City did not bode well for either of us. Not that I wanted him to flirt with me, that’s not what I’m saying. I just… I’m digging a hole here, aren’t I? Okay, whatever. Let’s just leave it at: He seemed like a nice guy.

Japanese:

"Man..." he muttered under his breath, thinking that I wouldn't be able to hear him. "I've gotta look after a little kid till we get to Atlas City, huh? Not the sexiest thing in the world, but I guess it's not so bad."

Yeah, he still pisses me off.

I'm not sure how they managed it, but it looks like someone confused Gourry’s dialogue with Lina’s narration here.

#slayers #comparison

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bunnyandbirb · 7 years

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Birb’s B-Movies #2: Pass Thru

Neil Breen is a truly visionary actor/producer/director/writer/editor, and the owner of Neil Breen Films, LLC. You may know him from his previous works, Double Down and I am Here….Now. My favorite masterpiece of his is undoubtedly Fateful Findings, the science fiction drama where Neil plays a magical hacker who exposes all “the most secret government and corporate secrets.”

In preparation for his upcoming film, Twisted (set to release in 2018), I decided to sit down and watch the one film that I’ve never seen: Pass Thru (2016) and trust me, this is a work of pure Breenius. The website for the movie describes the movie as such:

“Artificial Intelligence from far into the future arrives to immediately CLEANSE the human species of millions of humans who are harmful to other humans. A VISIONARY, REVOLUTIONARY FILM which pushes the human species to the limits of controversial, thought-provoking actions.”

I have to admit, this is probably the most confusing Breen movie I’ve seen to date (and that’s really saying something.) I honestly don’t even remember the names of any of the characters, but that hardly matters. It has a very similar message to his other films, which he makes sure to hammer into your head so that even if you don’t understand the plot, at least you end up with something. We’ll get into that near the end, though.

The movie starts with overly long mountain/desert landscape shots that were probably taken an hour away from his house, since he lives near Las Vegas. Then something strange happens.

There’s a rock with white paintings on it, and suddenly a giant ginseng root-looking “hand” comes out and delicately prods the paintings with a stick. It then cuts to a random tiger chilling on a cliff above, and then immediately cuts again to two pristine clocks by the rock with some shitty black smoke effect crawling across the screen.

I don’t even get a chance to try to comprehend what these things mean before another series of confusing imagery: walking legs, a girl in her room reading about space, some old man just sitting in the desert with magazines, and then Neil Breen himself, picking up what looks like trash from a party he threw the other night. A red dot appears in the sky, and finally we get our first real dialogue of the film.

It is at this time that I have the horrible realization that everyone in this movie has received thorough direction from Neil Breen on how to read lines off a script. Each syllable is robotically intonated, each word spoken unnaturally slowly and with an awkward pause… nothing anyone says in this movie sounds real. Breen was debatably the worst actor in Fateful Findings, and it seems like he tried really hard to get everyone on his level this time.

Three kids (names unknown) sit around in a room, and the boy has somehow found the red sky dot (which is apparently some kind of signal.) The two girls try to sound excited but somehow manage to sound even more apathetic as they raise their voices. The boy goes from “I’m following the signal!” to “I lost the signal” in literally one second, so I guess he just sucks.

The next few minutes of this movie are just pure chaos. Each scene is somehow too short and at the same time way too long, and the sequence that they’re placed in just makes zero sense whatsoever. Let me just run through them (keep in mind, these are in chronological order):

Neil Breen lies in a pile of his own filth in his trailer.

Neil Breen lies outside in the dirt while some faceless man with a gun pays him to clean up the evidence of a ‘smuggling site’ (i.e. Gatorade bottles and soup cans.)

Some “immigrants” (who just look like tourists) are led through a ravine

Neil Breen wakes up in the dirt with the garbage still around him, finds a dirty syringe and injects it into his arm. He then dies and we get this great special effect:

The nameless boy calls one of the girls and then proceeds to have an entire conversation by himself.

A random hand bleeds while it touches barbed wire.

I was confused enough at this point, but then I kept watching and realized that the entire movie is edited like this. Let it be known that I tried three times to write this post while reformatting the events of the story to make them more clear, but it was actually impossible. So instead of trying again, I’m just going to run through the four most hilarious parts of the movie. Honestly, you wouldn’t understand the plot even if I gave more information than this, so to hell with it.

1. The Great Immigration

One plotline involves a group of “immigrants” who are being herded along by human traffickers. The “immigrants” all act like a bunch of middle schoolers on a boring field trip (and are dressed similarly), and are constantly whining: “Where are we going?” “Why do we have to walk so far?” “Stop yelling at us.” The human smugglers in the movie are incredibly incompetent at both smuggling and acting, which makes every one of these scenes a pleasure to watch.

The traffickers filter through the immigrants, stopping a few who happen to be hiding plastic baggies (of what looks like cocaine) under their shirts.) One of them is a woman who is pretending to be pregnant, and is clearly not an actor because she can’t stop smiling in what (I’m assuming) is supposed to be a serious situation. They line up these baggies and start handing them out, designating who they’re going to: lawyers, bankers, “the CEO”, etc. Basically all the people Breen talks shit about in every movie he makes.

Their leader shoots some woman and a kid because she “has absolutely no VALUE for you two on the STREETS.” (Uh, lady, you’re in a desert.) Two of the women manage to escape, even as a man shoots at them at point blank range four times (and apparently misses each time.) Nobody bothers to go after them. The rest of the immigrants are “trapped” in a truck and they all freak out because they clearly cannot escape:

2. Neil Breen cleaning up his house

The two women that escaped from the traffickers stumble into Neil Breen’s trailer, and he invites them to stay with him. For some reason, the women yell everything they say even when they’re standing right next to each other. Also, they vehemently don’t want to stay with him - can’t blame them, really.

In order to convince them to stay, Breen insists that he will “clean it” for them. No words can explain the beauty of this scene, so I have to just show you the clip:

youtube

3. Neil Breen “isn’t that corrupt”

Coming to the end of the movie, it’s revealed that Breen is actually an alien artificial intelligence (who has a name, but hell if I remember that much). His mission is to just kill all the humans that he doesn’t like. Okay, he actually said those who “cause harm to other humans,” but isn’t that technically every living human? Whatever, I will not question our lord and savior Neil Breen.

Breen teleports into mansions and inserts himself into conversations with the people that he shit talks all the time (i.e. lawyers, Big Pharma, government officials, bankers, etc. etc.) and just makes everything awkward.

Here’s a transcript of an actual conversation:

A: “I know senior, national elected government officials who I can force my political... *insert pause where she forgets her lines*... bias and influence on fellow politicians to vote my way, for a payoff of course.”

Breen: “ISN’T THAT CORRUPT?”

Everyone: …….

[Breen looks away as everyone else stares at him.]

B: “I know companies that can hack into any government national agency or corporate facility. For the right price, you can get any information that you want. And they don’t need to know why or your reason. These places are so vulnerable and unprotected, and there is no way they can keep up with the technology.”

Breen: “ISN’T THAT CORRUPT?”

Everyone: ……..

This same exact conversation repeats itself until Breen decides to leave, and then the people are like, “Who the fuck was that guy?”

Breen teleports in front of the mansion, fades out of his tuxedo and into his regular janitor clothes, and then waddles away as shitty explosion effects happen in the background.

“If it can be destroyed by the truth, it deserves to be destroyed by the truth,” he says. I’m pretty sure those were not ‘truth explosions,’ but you do you, Neil.

4. The Newsroom and Neil Breen

After that shitshow, Neil decides to make his big move by appearing on some news channel to make his traditional monologue. Throughout the movie, the news anchors have been reporting some very interesting news. Serious criminals, lawyers, bank management, and even accountants have mysteriously vanished overnight. According to one of the hosts, “It’s as if all the harmful people on Earth are disappearing.” Oh, he also mentioned that “Ignorant reality shows about families, housewives, groups, individuals… those casts are all gone.” So I guess Breen is now lumping the Kardashians with corrupt government officials on his ‘Evil People’ list.”

Neil shows up uninvited onto the news broadcast, and the hosts rightfully call out for security guards. Breen fires back with, “You won’t need security. You’re gone.”

And so they are:

I won’t even try to recount all of the nonsense the Neil says in his speech, but here are the some select quotes:

“I am not of this Earth. I am artificial intelligence from FAR into the future.”

“Human evolution has ended, and there can be no further advancement.”

“I have eliminated 300 million humans from the planet today”

“Violate laws and regulations”

Breen also really loves listing things, as can be witnessed in this single speech.

Neil Breen lists the things he hates (in order within the speech):

Illegal wars

The abuse of the media systems

Films

Radio

The Internet

Violence

Corruption

Political correctness

Fear of the truth

Excuses

Second chances

Third chances

Warnings

Sympathy

Cheats

Thieves

Criminals

Abusers

Corrupters

Dishonest humans

Abusers of:

Other humans

The planet

The environment

Children & animals

Violence

Corruption

Corporate corruption

Failed political systems

Failed judicial systems

Failed educational systems

Failed environmental systems

There are a lot of other hilarious things in this movie aside from these moments.

Like seriously, what the hell is this:

But I won’t get into any more of the gems from this film, because this has already gone on long enough. Watch it yourself to experience them all.

I’ll be looking forward to Twisted, Neil!

~Stay tuned for nonsense~

- birb

#monday #movie review #movies #neil breen #pass thru #really late #birb #b movies #bad movies #movie monday #thisisbunnyinthetags #birb has a new job #everyone congratulate birb #bunnyandbirb #text post #long post #review

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little-murmaider · 7 years

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Fic: Autoclave

Anyway America is coming apart at the seams and my coping mechanism for this new HIGH-KEY CONSTANT ANXIETY is writing goofy fanfic. This was actually the first scene I wrote after I jumped back into fandom last year. I’ve lost interest in the fic this is attached to, but I still have affection for this bit. I’ve edited and modified it so it better stands on its own. Also I almost posted this at 1 AM Saturday when I was drunk and panic-scrolling through Twitter and I am very glad…….I did not do that………

I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam And no emotion that’s worth having could make my heart it’s home. My heart’s an autoclave. As they cross the threshold to Skwisgaar’s bedroom, they both hesitate. It was as through a tectonic plate had shifted beneath them, and they were left clutching each other, trying to find their footing.

The night of Toki’s rescue, as the four of them paced treads into the hospital’s waiting room tile, Pickles had asked if any of them felt different. Like all the ugly parts of them had been muted, replaced with something new. Something better. In this moment, Skwisgaar feels the blazing heat of all those new parts, searing and uncomfortable and satisfying. He sees this white hot newness in Toki, too. He wants to stick his hands in it, burn his fingerprints off.

When he touches Toki now, it’s not like any other time they’ve touched. This body that was once so familiar to him is now a tangible mystery. He reaches up to touch his face, but that feels too bold, so he touches the inside of his elbow. The skin is cool, slightly damp with sweat. Toki has similar reservations: he initially grazes Skwisgaar’s cheek, then withdraws as if shocked. His hand settles on Skwisgaar’s ribs, jutting and prominent from his position. He pretends they’re piano keys, taps out a melody only he can hear, giggles at his own joke. They stay like that for a while, experimentally exploring the new terrain.

He ghosts his fingertips over Toki’s bicep, running the length of the muscle down to the bend of his elbow, doubling back up to his shoulder. He tries to tell him like this, the only way he can say anything. He presses down on the raised veins of his forearm, wills the words into his fingers, a physical morse code.

Toki shifts, lets out a short breath through his nose. “Ams tickling mes.”

“Sorries.”

Toki’s gaze blasts craters through the back of Skwisgaar’s skull, but he can’t bring himself to meet it. Doesn’t know what will meet him there.

“Why comes you stares?” he finally asks.

“Yous just so pretty, how cans I nots?” He’s teasing–-an insult disguised as a compliment is a familiar tactic-–but beneath the bite is a flicker of something Skwisgaar can’t place. Something about the way he says the word “pretty.” Skwisgaar squeezes Toki’s bicep a hair above the point of pain. Releases. Outside, he hears the distant howl of the yard wolves, the faint shrieks of a Klokateer meeting his untimely demise.

“De worst dreams ams about yous,” Toki whispers. At this Skwisgaar does look up, but Toki’s gaze is roving. “I’ve seen you dies so many times, so many way. Dat first nights back, when you wake mes up, I sees you gets yous throat slit.”

He traces a line across Skwisgaar’s neck with his pointer finger, just above his Adam’s apple.

“Ams covers in yous blood. You tries to tell me somet’ing. Bloods come out yous eyes, yous ear, yous mouth.”

Without breaking contact from the skin Toki’s touch glides upwards, along the length of Skwisgaar’s jaw, settles hardened fingertips softly on Skwisgaar’s lips.

“Whens I wakes up I still t’inks I dreamings, dat yous dead. But it not reals. Yous alive.”

His eyes are trained on Skwisgaar’s mouth, his thumb finding the small dip in his chin.

“Dreams about yous, too,” he mumbles, then clears his throat. Some ancient leftover douchebag doesn’t want to give Toki the satisfaction of knowing what a sap he is. “Whens yous gones. De dreams makes me so happies, whens I wake up it feel likes…you knows about hows dey used to punish ladies whats dey thoughts was witches? How dey woulds puts dem under a bunch of rocks, so de ladies gets crushed? Dat how I feels.”

“How you feels now?”

He blinks. Drawing a sharp breath, he leans in close, tangling his hands in Toki’s hair. Why did he find this so impossible before? It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. It’s playing a solo in front of 500,000 hysterical fans. It’s exhaling. “I loves you.”

Toki lay motionless. Panic spiderwebs through Skwisgaar’s abdomen. Oh no. He tries to think of a way to spin this, to turn it against Toki, a wacky practical joke. He opens his mouth to backtrack, lay some groundwork for recovering his dignity. But then Toki’s hands are on his face and his mouth is on his mouth.

He kisses him like he’d never been kissed in his life. He kisses him like he’s dying of thirst and Toki is an endless stream of cool water. Skwisgaar always thought all those songs about love were the result of childish, lazy fantasies but oh God he gets it, he gets it now. He’s never felt more exhilarated, more terrified, more desperate, more alive. His body is a supernova, destroying all he was and recreating him into something resplendent, something deserving of feeling this way. He is nothing. He is everything. He loves Toki so much.

Toki is crying, ha ha, what a baby. Maybe they’re both crying. Who cares. It doesn’t matter.

Toki pulls away–it hadn’t even occurred to Skwisgaar they would eventually need to stop kissing–and straddles Skwisgaar’s hips. Skwisgaar leans up but Toki widens the distance, rocking back on his heels and wearing a lopsided grin.

“Says it again,” he says. He’s enjoying this, the little shit. Skwisgaar coils Toki’s hair around his fist, his fingers grazing the back of his skull.

“I loves you.”

“Says it again.”

Skwisgaar narrows his eyes.

“I loves you.”

He tries to make it sound like an insult, like how dumb am I, if I love you, you idiot, but his annoyance can’t make a dent in the words’ sincerity. Toki hovers over him, just out of reach. When Skwisgaar reaches for another kiss, Toki lays his arm across his chest, his forearm sitting heavily on Skwisgaar’s solar plexus.

“Says it again.”

“Fuck YOUS.”

He yanks Toki’s hair hard, drags him beside him and kicks a leg across Toki’s. He hoists himself on top, trying to sink his full body weight into him. Skwisgaar has both Toki’s wrists in one hand, digging his knees into his ribcage. His grip isn’t that strong because Toki easily breaks it and shoves Skwisgaar dead in the chest. He’s on his back, braced, but instead of attacking Toki languidly crawls toward him. There’s a flash of anxiety when Skwisgaar almost asks him to say it back–-just for confirmation–-but looking up at Toki he realizes how unnecessary it is. Toki radiates love; every piece of him glows with it. He brushes some of Skwisgaar’s hair out of his eyes, cups his cheek and kisses him again. Skwisgaar feels lit up from the inside, like he swallowed the moon, light shooting out of his fingers and toes and the ends of his hair.

Toki smiles against his mouth and giggles, and whatever scrap of vanity Skwisgaar had left evaporates and he giggles, too, the both of them tittering like teenagers, nearly silent so their bodies shake. He’s so giddy, he’s never felt this happy in his life. Toki breaks away, still laughing, takes Skwisgaar’s hand and holds it flat against his chest. Skwisgaar feels Toki’s riotous heart beneath his palm, the beat so thunderous and sustained it gives him an idea for a new baseline. He feels like if he removes his hand, Toki’s heart will tear straight out of him, like this is his job now, to hold his heart, keep it safe. He can think of worse ways to spend a life. “Says it again.”

#skwistok #scandigayvians #metalocalypse #my fanfic #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #dethklok #pretty unabashed romance but WHO CARES FIND JOY WHERE YOU CAN TRUMP FIRED THE ACTING AG FOR DISAGREEING WITH HIM #WE ARE IN THE UPSIDE DOWN JUST LET ME HAVE THESE GUITARISTS FALL IN LOVE

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thejustinmarshall · 5 years

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Forest Woodward On His Wandering Path To Adventure Photography

NOTE: In 2018, I started recording interviews with creatives (writers, filmmakers, podcasters, photographers, editors, etc.) in the adventure world. I’m publishing the highlights of those interviews monthly in 2019.

In early 2014, Forest Woodward and I sat in the front window of a Lower East Side coffee shop, flipping through a scrapbook he had made during our 28-day Grand Canyon raft trip a few months earlier. It was only three months old at that point, but already had the look of something you’d find in a dead relative’s attic: bulging at the spine, Instax instant photos and pieces of the river map with notes scrawled on them glued to the pages, and scenes from each day written in the leftover space. Forest had mentioned wanting to do something with the material, plus the stills and video he had shot during the trip—maybe a web story, incorporating all the visual and written elements, in time for Father’s Day as a gift for his dad, Doug, who was 77 at the time of the trip, when he was returning to the Grand Canyon after his first trip there 40+ years ago.

Forest never did get around to making that web story. But he did end up making a film called “The Important Places” with friends at American Rivers and Gnarly Bay. I helped a little bit, too, if you count refusing to write the script and telling Forest he should write it himself, and offering a couple small pieces of advice along the way. The film is probably the best-known single piece of Forest’s work—it won the Best Short Mountain Film Award at the 2015 Banff Mountain Film Festival, toured with the festival, showed at dozens of other film festivals, and appeared in a slightly edited form on Oprah’s SuperSoul TV.

The film follows the trajectory of Forest’s life, growing up very close to the wilderness in the mountains of North Carolina and Washington, getting away from the outdoors for a few years in college and New York City, and then returning to the mountains, desert, and rivers, where he started making a living as an adventure photographer just before I met him, in 2012. Almost exactly seven years ago, a mutual friend, Darin, introduced Forest and me via a charity climb of Mt. Whitney, telling me, “You should meet my friend Forest—I think you’d like him.” People say that all the time, but Darin really nailed it. Since that climb, Forest and I have collaborated on magazine work, several films, and a book project that will be coming out in spring 2020.

Forest’s photos have been published in Alpinist, Outside, National Geographic Adventure, VICE, The Atlantic, Climbing, Rock & Ice, Australian Geographic Outdoor, Surfer Mag, Afar, Men’s Health, Forbes, The Guardian, and on the cover of Adventure Journal multiple times. He’s now one of my closest friends and one of my favorite creative collaborators, and I can’t pretend to be objective about him as a person or a photographer. But since we’ve had such enriching conversations about life and creative work—in the front seats of cars driving in more than a dozen states, at diners and coffee shops, at belays, on dozens of trails and campsites—I thought I’d ask him to sit down and talk a little bit about how he became a photographer and his evolution as a creative. Here’s our conversation from January, edited for length.

ON GROWING UP EXPERIENTIALLY HOMESCHOOLED AND CLOSE TO THE OUTDOORS I grew up in Western North Carolina, in the mountains just south of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, 10 miles as the crow flies off the Appalachian Trail. My folks built a house out in the woods on 160 acres of mountainside in rural Appalachia, and that’s where we grew up for the first 12 years of my life. We did a lot of whitewater canoeing and kayaking in that area. What drew them to that area was the rivers and the water. They homeschooled us, and oriented our lives around the idea of experiential education, both in our backyard and in our daily lives. Part of homeschooling was being sent outside and told to come back when it gets dark, which I don’t know if that was really part of homeschooling or just Mom needing some time to herself.

A lot of my memories are of my dad’s back or my mom’s back, being on a backpack or a bike trailer. I remember Dad had this kiddie cart that they pulled behind the bike that my sister and I would sit in. We would do a lot of family overnight bike tours. I remember just seeing the world, the landscape always through this scuffed up plastic window. I think those were some of the earliest memories, just bouncing along in that cart. You could see Dad’s back up ahead, legs churning along, and then you look out the little plastic window, and stuff’s moving along, and I’m just a little sponge, soaking it all in, wondering when the snacks were going to come.

Those were the early years growing up in Western North Carolina. Then we moved to Stehekin, Washington, another rural part of the country up in the North Cascades. A little community at the head of Lake Chelan, surrounded on all sides by the North Cascades National Park. There were about 100 year-round residents. We lived there for five years, and that was another very interesting, distinct chapter in growing up. I was 12 to 17 growing up in a very small community, and learning how to live and interact within that was pretty neat. A good place to be a free range kid. Chopped a lot of wood, boot packed a half mile through the snow from the end of the driveway to the house in winter. There was no cell service in the valley, no internet yet, so if you wanted to see your friends you just got on your bicycle and started riding up and down the valley road, checking the usual spots – the bakery, the swimming holes, the river resort, pirate island. All through my growing up years in North Carolina and then later in Washington, there was no TV or Nintendo and we didn’t have a lot of the things that “normal kids” had. I thought, “This is not idyllic. This is hell,” but with time and space, and as I’ve come to reflect on it, it was absolutely was idyllic. We had the woods and the mountains and the rivers and a lot of freedom to make our own fun.

ON HIS FIRST CAMERA I got a camera for Christmas when I was 10. We took trips as a family, oftentimes once or twice a year. We would do trips out of the country. I think in that time we were headed to Guatemala. Mom and Dad knew I was interested in photography, because I think I had used Dad’s cameras before. They gave me my own camera, which was this little point-and-shoot 35-millimeter. I think I got one roll of film for a six-week trip or something, because it was expensive to develop it. That was my allotted share, and it was a big deal. I remember having a lot of fun with that on the trip. That was my way of interacting with the landscape, and the culture, and the people that we were meeting, and oftentimes thinking about if it was worth one of my one of 36 shots.

Then Dad gave me one of his old cameras when I was 12, his old Canon AE-1. That was when we began developing and processing black-and-white film together in the darkroom in the basement, and it sparked a deeper sense of connection to the craft, and a deeper understanding of it. Dad and a lot of the old-school black-and-white photographers come at picture making from a very engineering minded, scientific sort of background. As I became immersed in that, I started to take more pride in what I was doing. It was less of a pressing the button and being curious what came out, and it was more of a tactile, hands-on sort of thing. I became fascinated with light and without really knowing it I think, I began to study it everyday.

All of the kids in the family were encouraged to explore arts in some way. I always resisted the idea of being an artist or being creative. I was like, “I do sports.” I wanted to be the sports kid. For me, the camera was a creative outlet, but it was like I could pretend that it wasn’t. I could pretend I was a tough 12-year-old who just liked sports, but was secretly falling in love with photography.

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ON EARLY DAYS IN THE DARKROOM WITH HIS DAD, DOUG My earliest introduction to photography before I ever took a picture was I remember standing outside the door of the darkroom in the basement, and knocking on it, and Dad being like, “Just a minute,” and waiting for one of his prints to get into the fixer. Then he’d open the door, and let me come in, and turn the lights off again. We’d be there in the orange glow of the safelight. He’d perch me up on this tall wicker stool, and let me rock the developer tray. That’s my earliest memory of photography. It definitely was a connection between me and Dad, and seeing what he did, and getting to spend time with him.

It seemed like magic, even just the glow and the hum of the safe light, and the enlarger. Then the images slowly appearing on blank paper, taking shape, becoming real through some alchemy I didn’t grasp but which captivated me. It was a mysterious and entrancing place, the darkroom. For some reason they made the fixer chemicals smell like vanilla, which I think is sketchy in retrospect for kids. Also, there were wild beasts. There were copperheads that would crawl in through the dehumidifier, and so the first thing we would do when we went down to the darkroom was check for the copperheads, and oftentimes they would be there back under far enough that we couldn’t get to them. You would see one peering out at you from under the dehumidifier. It became scary once I started doing it on my own, and wasn’t with Dad. I would check for the copperheads by myself. Eventually we developed some sort of truce I guess.

ON HIS EARLY STUDIES AT THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SCHOOL OF PHOTOGRAPHY Before college, I had started going out to the Rocky Mountain School of Photography in Missoula. I rode a Greyhound bus with my sister from Spokane to Missoula when I was 12, and she was 14. We took our first black-and-white printing workshop there together.

My dad was friends with Neil and Jeanne Chaput, who started the school in Atlanta when my dad was living there. I think back then they had three students, and Dad was one of them. He and Neil became friends, so when Neil and Jeanne moved the school out to Montana they kept in touch. They always kept the door open for my parents, if they ever wanted to send any of their kids. It was not something that our family could afford, but they let me come for free and stay in their guest bedroom. I was amazingly supported by the folks at the school from an early age.

That opened my eyes to this bigger world of photography where my teachers were people I looked up to a lot, like Neil and Tim Cooper and David Marx. Neil, who founded the school, had studied under Ansel Adams. He did large-scale black-and-white fine art printing. I saw that as the path to being a photographer, and didn’t know that much else about different ways to make a living in photography. I thought you had to take really good black-and-white landscape photos, and then figure out how to get them into galleries. So up until college, that had been my focus. Once a year, I’d go out there for a week and learn from those guys.

I don’t know if I would send a 12-year-old on a Greyhound bus now, but whatever. It worked out. Maybe it was different back then. But that was my first workshop. Whatever formal education I had around photography, besides what came from Dad, came from those weeklong visits to the school in Missoula. I had really positive interactions with the teachers there, and with other students. Everyone was just really encouraging. It was a lot of older folks. They thought it was pretty neat to see a 12-year-old or a 16-year-old who was that interested in the craft, and in learning the details of fine art printing, and large format photography and all that.

Every summer during college, I went back to Missoula. The first year, I took their summer intensive course, a 12-week crash course in everything from studio lighting, to photojournalism, to fine art printing. The next three summers, I went back and assisted with the program, working in the darkroom helping folks with printing. I can’t imagine a better place to develop a foundation and appreciation for the art of photography and I look back on those years as some of the most formative for me as an artist.

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ON MAYBE, MAYBE NOT WANTING TO BE A PHOTOGRAPHER As I got into my later teen years and was looking at college, I came to realize that maybe that wasn’t that cool. I was still investigating “normal.” I was like maybe being in a darkroom all day, and smelling like chemicals, maybe I’m turning into one of those artist nerds. I’m not the sports guy I wanted to be, or whatever.

I went to UNC in Chapel Hill. I took one photography class while I was there. I majored in sociology and Spanish. I had heard growing up the encouragement of people saying, “You’re good at photography. You’re making beautiful photos.” But that would also be accompanied with, “It’s really hard to make a living as a photographer though.” I always kept that in the back of my mind. Since I want to make a living, I decided I was going to go to college and study other things. People forgot to tell me that it was going to be hard to make a living with sociology and Spanish too, which I started to realize at the end of college.

I figured if I was going to do something that was hard to make a living with, I might as well do something I really liked and really cared about. So after taking the college years away from photography, except for in the summers when I would go Montana, I came back to it at the end of my junior and senior year and started shooting more seriously.

ON HIS FIRST PHOTO SALE AT AGE 14 I sold my first black-and-white print at the little craft shop in Stehekin. In the winters there, I could use the darkroom in the one-room schoolhouse, and use the chemicals there, and print my own stuff. I was printing landscapes of the North Cascades. Then I’d cut the matts and Krazy Glue them in, and put them in these little plastic sleeves, and take them down to the craft store when it opened in the summer. Part of the deal was if you put stuff in there you had to work behind the desk a few days.

I think I was probably 14, and I was working there the day that my first black-and-white print sold to these two lovely older ladies from Seattle. They said, “You’re the artist? We’re going to buy one.” It was a really neat feeling. I mean, I put these here, but I didn’t really think anyone was going to buy them. It was $12 for the print. They found out it was the first print I’d ever sold, and they got so excited and were like, “You take this dollar bill, and you put it somewhere special, because this is going to mean something.” I don’t remember exactly which photo it was. I want to say it was of a waterfall, Horseshoe Falls maybe. Just a photo from a hike up the valley. That was $12. I think the craft store kept 15 percent or something, but I was psyched. That was enough for multiple cinnamon rolls at the bakery.

You start doing the math as a kid and you’re like okay, that’s three hours of dish washing, or hours of mowing the lawn or splitting firewood. But this was fun. I was doing something I liked. I kept selling prints there in the craft shop, and then I stopped when we moved away when I was 17.

HOW SELLING STOCK PHOTOS STARTED HIS CAREER There had been a teacher in Missoula who did commercial photography in New York, and mentioned that there were these big agencies that kept libraries of photographs, and would license them. If you got your photos in these libraries, then you could potentially sell one sometime and get money. So as a college student, I thought that sounded like a pretty interesting thing.

I had a bunch of photos, so I started reaching out to these different stock houses like Getty. I got turned down by all of them. At the same time, there were some small startup companies, micro-stock agencies like iStock, and they accepted me. I don’t remember the first sale, but it was probably under a dollar for a photo of some carrots or something like that. But then it started selling every day, and then 10 times a day. It was this new model for how to license imagery to meet the growing needs of the internet. It really took off three or four years after I got into it.

I realized I had access to things that a lot of other people who were shooting photos for these stock sites didn’t have access to. I just started photographing things that I was doing with my friends, like trips and stuff we’d do outside, and stuff around campus. I remember the first week pretty early on when I broke $40. That was enough to buy beer all week.

Right as I was getting ready to graduate college, I decided to take an extra semester to finish my Spanish degree, and move to Sevilla, Spain, and spend six months there. That was a whole new landscape and culture, and was much more visually inspiring than walking the same 10 blocks to campus.

I think I was breaking $1,000 a month. My plan was to just keep shooting all this stuff in Spain with my friends. If I just keep doing interesting things with my friends, and uploading all these photos, and working hard, I might not have to worry about getting a job when I leave college. That just lit a fire under me. I poured everything into creating images, and exploring that stock world after that. Things took off to the point that it was sustainable by the time I graduated, and financed all of my trips, and gave me a lot of freedom.

It felt like cheating. It felt too good to be true. I think I still keep that mentality from those early days, when a photo would sell and then stop selling, and you were always at the whim of the algorithms that were changing. I always thought “Well, another good month. Maybe I’ll get another.” Never took it for granted. Keep working hard and make it while you can, because it’s not gonna last forever. Whatever it’s been now, 12 years later, I’m like well, keep going. I’m not doing the stock stuff anymore. I haven’t done that for six years, but I have that same mentality: I’m incredibly lucky. Enjoy every day of it and work hard, and don’t take it for granted.

ON HIS FIRST PUBLISHED PHOTO A friend was studying abroad in Spain, and he told me, “Man, I just picked up a magazine, and I found this photo of you in it.” I thought, “Wow, awesome. I’ve made it. I’ve got a photo in print now.” I knew that these stock photos had been selling online, but I didn’t know where they went or how they were being used. I asked him to send me a copy.

A month later, this manila envelope arrives from Spain. I’m going, “Oh man, this is exciting.” I open it up and pull out this glossy, high-quality print magazine called Gay Barcelona. OK, all right. He’s got the page dogeared, and I open it up. It’s a double-truck spread, this intro to an article with me sitting there shirtless on my laptop, typing. He’s translated it for me because it’s in Catalan, and he’s written, “It says gay men who meet their partners online are 10 times more likely to contract STDs.”

I slipped the magazine back in the envelope and thought, “I think I’m going to wait for the next one to show my mom that I’ve got some published photos.” Four or five months later a copy of National Geographic came, and the opening double truck of it was an ad with one of my photos for renewable batteries or something.

ON OTHER CAREER OPTIONS I’ve never made a resumé. I can’t believe I have made it to 32 and can say that. I think I had enough of an inkling of what my other options were. I mean my first business endeavor was at the age of 10, when I started a lawn mowing company. My main client was Marty Siminski, and I mowed his lawn once a month, and got $20 and a free soda. It was awesome. That was my first sense of the entrepreneurial spirit—that if I could do things on my own terms, it was going to be better. I liked that freedom.

I worked in a bakery in Stehekin for four years. I remember at the age of 12 going up to knock on the bakery owner’s door. It’s all women in their 20s and 30s and 40s working in this bakery, and I’m this 12-year-old kid who wants to bake too. Robbie Courtney, the owner, told me, “Wash dishes for summer, and I’ll start teaching you to bake when you get done with the dishes each morning.” She let me do that. She was the best boss I ever had and I really enjoyed it. The next summers I started baking, and then in when we moved back to North Carolina I spent a couple summers working as a line cook in a resort. That was when the luster of being a cook or a baker started to wear off. I was working double shifts in this mountain resort where the other cooks were dealing opioids out of the back door, and deep frying hot dogs. I got pretty sick of it after that. It was enough understanding of some of my other options to drive me towards the thing that was really fun.

ON HIS START AS AN ADVENTURE PHOTOGRAPHER The summer after I graduated college I was driving through Denver, and Blake Herrington, one of the kids I had gone to school with in Stehekin, was living in Denver. We hadn’t really seen each other much in the last 10 years, but he reached out and invited me to stop in and stay with him and his wife and go rock climbing, and I could shoot photos. We went up to Lumpy Ridge. He’s a writer, and ended up getting some of the photos published. We started taking climbing trips together where he would write articles, and I would shoot the photos, even though I really had no business climbing or taking climbing photos by most standards.

Growing up in North Carolina, we were pretty heavily tied to the outdoors, whether it was family bike trips, or rafting or backpacking. It was a big part of my childhood. When I went to school in Chapel Hill, I got away from that lifestyle. That return to the outdoors through climbing showed me that maybe I could use this skill set and my camera to get back to doing more of the outdoors stuff. I had this inkling of this whole realm of adventure photography, and that sounds more like what I want to be doing, more than taking pictures of carrots, or the farmers market, and rolls of $20 bills and keyboards, or whatever silly stock images I had been doing.

ON ‘THE LIFELONG STUDY OF LIGHT’ Technically speaking, photography for me is absolutely the lifelong study of light, and relation to light. It’s a way of seeing and interacting with the world that I can’t turn off. I’m always looking at light. What makes a good photograph is partly that study of light—just an appreciation of it, and a willingness to pay attention, and patience. Everything I do is with available light, I don’t light anything myself. I’m never shaping or controlling light in the way that many people do beautifully with photography. For me, it’s a study. It’s a relationship that is based in patience.

The photographs I get excited about these days are when it’s a confluence of light and elements that are beyond my control, and I get to witness something that maybe happens only once ever. When that confluence of elements happens, it’s rare. I take a lot of photographs, a lot, a lot, a lot of photographs where that is not the case. But a really great photograph? All these elements click together. You can feel it.

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ON HOW A GREAT PHOTO IS OFTEN A GREAT MOMENT I would say, to me, the other big part of what makes a great photograph is the experience behind taking it. I have found that to hold true in all of my work. I don’t have any photographs that I think are great photographs where I feel that what went into making it didn’t come from a good place, or was not something I value. I can’t look at a photograph that I don’t like the story behind and say that’s a great photograph for me. To me, a lot of it is the interaction with a landscape, and with nature, or with people. It’s always the experience that I have of making it. If those things don’t feel good, and don’t feel honest, then the photograph won’t be great.

As I’ve shot more and more lifestyle stuff, interactions with people, you can feel what the connection is between the photographer and the person photographed. While I admire and look up to some of the classic street photographers, and went through a phase of wanting to do that, I realize that’s not for me—stealing moments that leave someone feeling uncomfortable. That’s not how I work. The taking of the photo and that interaction matters to me. Hopefully everyone feels good from it. I think that’s what I hope comes across in a great photograph is that shared joy of life.

I don’t find that those moments happen very much when you try to force them, or are constantly trying to produce them. It’s more of this patience and appreciation of having the space to actually see how many of those moments exist around us each day. To connect with people or a landscape or the soul of whatever it is you’re searching for in an image.

There’s a photo that I posted on Instagram a couple months ago, of my friend Duke putting on his jacket after a day of running bison up the chutes on his ranch in Colorado, and to me that photo, that moment, holds a lot. You don’t see his face. I’m not even saying it’s a great photo, but for me there’s so many stories in the grip of his hand, and the surrounding environment where we spent days just existing on this ranch, not shooting a lot of times. There’s a lot of time and a lot more below the surface that goes into developing the trust and connection to be able to stand that close to another human. At that point, the sun’s dipping through the clouds, and he’s finishing up a day with the bison. It was just a brief moment but it encapsulated a lot of things that were special to me. For me at least, it speaks to a lifetime.

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A post shared by Forest Woodward (@forestwoodward) on Nov 20, 2018 at 7:37am PST

I think it’s a good litmus test for me, and what I’m doing too. If I can’t exist in the space, and be engaged, and learning and interested in it, then maybe I shouldn’t be there photographing it. Less and less do I differentiate between my lifestyle photography of other people and my own lifestyle. It’s different for everyone, but for me, to be able to exist in the space in a way that is really meaningful beyond just capturing something and running off with it. I value the relationships in my work and the experiences – whether I capture them or not.

I think about that all the time with Instagram in particular. I know that people are missing the experience because they’re obsessed with the end product of an Instagram, or sharing it in some way. I’ve had times in my life where I’ve felt the same, and in the last few years I’ve found that it can be worth it to me not to take the photo, and appreciate the experience instead. If you can do both that’s great, but if I have to choose, more and more I try and choose the experience.

ON WORK-LIFE BALANCE I had the realization in the last year that no kid says, “When I grow up, I want to be busy.” You could have the best career in the world, but if the way that you feel about it, and interact with it and describe it to other people is, “Oh, yeah, I’ve been busy,” that’s not what I dreamed of when I was a kid. With all of the opportunity that I’ve been afforded in my career to choose, and create the lifestyle and the career as a freelancer that I want to have, there’s been a shift for me around realizing there is a limit to what is enough.

When you start out as a freelancer, I think you spend a lot of time constantly in fear of when the next job is coming. Am I going to be able to eat or pay rent? That mentality can carry forward in a way that can become unhealthy. I block out time. I hold time for clients all the time. Clients say, hold this week, or hold these weeks for a possible job. I’m always doing that for these people who oftentimes are friends that I love working with, but I’m doing this for people for schedules, for marketing schedules.

The idea shift in my head has been: I can do that for myself. Forest, hold this month for doing things with your friends, and your family and the people you love. Block out this year or this month for the things that are important, because it’s easy to not do that. We have a culture that seems to validate business and financial success over personal health, and taking care of yourself and your relationships.

I’ve been working like a madman for the last six years. Even when I’m not working hard, I’m still working. You have to be brave to say no to work, and prioritize the things that really matter when this is all said and done. As much as I love my career, and love the things I get to do and call work still, I think I’ve been working on getting better at taking time for the important people, and projects, and prioritizing that more than prioritizing moving up the next rung or whatever.

My friend Stefan Hunt shared this quote with me a few weeks ago as we were talking about this, something like, “Until you decide what is enough, there’s never enough.” What is enough work? What is enough money? What is enough prestige? What is enough social recognition? If I don’t address that for myself, I’ll always be striving for more. More isn’t better.

ADVICE TO NEW PHOTOGRAPHERS If you’re living life the way that you want to live it, it’s going to show in your work. That means figuring out what feels true to you, and what matters to you, and not trying to be someone else. I think that’s important more than ever with Instagram and social media. It’s so easy. I get sucked up in it. Scrolling through Instagram, you see 100 people you admire, and you want to be all of them.

The only person you can be is who you are. There’s so much to distract from that. None of those things are a roadmap for how you get to where you need to be. That comes from really honoring who you are as an individual, and leaning into that, because your greatest work, your greatest strength, is your individuality. I think the greatest work that comes out of any artist is digging into their soul, and sharing that with the world through whatever their medium is.

That takes time, and that takes work. There may be a phase of emulating people along the way, or jumping through the hoops to learn things. That’s fine, but at some point, you have to follow your own path, and you have to have guts to do that. Surround yourself with good people. Take care of your community. Take care of your friends. Take care of yourself. Even if things don’t work out in a career sense, you’ll still be building a good life. Which is success in the most fundamental way. And if you’re going to make a career out of anything, you need that foundation to step off of.

Every relationship you make along the way as a young photographer matters. Take care of those people. There’s no job or relationship too big or too small, so take care of the people you work with. That all adds up over a career. Be good to the people you work with, whether it’s people you’re hiring, or people you meet along the way, or your clients. You have to love what you’re doing enough that working hard doesn’t feel like hard work all the time. Sometimes it has to flow. If you have that, chances are you’re on the right track, and things will unfold as they should.

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Forest Woodward On His Wandering Path To Adventure Photography

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