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ifuckinglovestvincent · 3 years

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THE FORTY-FIVE: ST. VINCENT

Sleazy, gritty, grimy – these are the words used to describe the latest iteration of St. Vincent, Annie Clark’s alter ego. As she teases the release of her upcoming new album, ‘Daddy’s Home’, Eve Barlow finds out who’s wearing the trousers now.

Photos: Zackery Michael

Yellow may be the colour of gold, the hue of a perfect blonde or the shade of the sun, but when it’s too garish, yellow denotes the stain of sickness and the luridness of sleaze. On ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ – the first single from St. Vincent’s forthcoming sixth album ‘Daddy’s Home’ – Annie Clark basks in the palette of cheap 1970s yellows; a dirty, salacious yellow that even the most prudish of individuals find difficult to avert their gaze from. It’s a yellow that recalls the smell of cigarettes on fingers, the tape across tomorrow’s crime scene or the dull ache of bad penetration.

The video for the single, which dropped last Thursday, features Clark in a blonde wig and suit, channeling a John Cassavetes anti-heroine (think Gena Rowlands in Gloria) and ‘Fame’-era Bowie. She twists in front of too-bright disco lights. She roughs up her voice. She sings about the price we pay for searching for acceptance while being outcast from society. “So I went to the park just to watch the little children/ The mothers saw my heels and they said I wasn’t welcome,” she coos, and you immediately recognise the scene of a free woman threatening the post-nuclear families aspiring to innocence. Clark is here to pervert them.

She laughs. “That’s how I feel!” From her studio in Los Angeles, she begins quoting lyrics from Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Red House’. “It’s a blues song for 2021.” LA is a city Clark reluctantly only half calls home, and one that is opposed to her vastly preferred New York. “I don’t feel any romantic attachment to Los Angeles,” she says of the place she coined the song ‘Los Ageless’ about on 2017’s ‘Masseduction’ (“The Los Ageless hang out by the bar/ Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs”).“The best that could be said of LA is, ‘Yeah it’s nice.’ And it is! LA is easy and pleasant. But if you were a person the last thing you’d want someone to say about you is: ‘She’s nice!’”

On ‘Daddy’s Home’, Clark writes about a past derelict New York; a place Los Angeles would suffocate in. “The idea of New York, the art that came out of it, and my living there,” she says. “I’ve not given up my card. I don’t feel in any way ready to renounce my New York citizenship. I bought an apartment so I didn’t have to.” Her down-and-out New York is one a true masochist would love, and it’s sleazy in excess. Sleaze is usually the thing men flaunt at a woman’s expense. In 2021, the proverbial Daddy in the title is Clark. But there’s also a literal Daddy. He came home in the winter of 2019.

On the title track, Clark sings about “inmate 502”: her father. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for his involvement in a $43m stock fraud scheme. He went away in May 2010. Clark reacted by writing her third breakthrough album ‘Strange Mercy’ in 2011; inspired not just by her father’s imprisonment but the effects it had on her life.“I mean it was rough stuff,” she says. “It was a fuck show. Absolutely terrible. Gut-wrenching. Like so many times in life, music saved me from all kinds of personal peril. I was angry. I was devastated. There’s a sort of dullness to incarceration where you don’t have any control. It’s like a thud at the basement of your being. So I wrote all about it,” she says.

Back then, she was aloof about meaning. In an interview we did that year, she called from a hotel rooftop in Phoenix and was fried from analytical questions. She excused her lack of desire to talk about ‘Strange Mercy’ as a means of protecting fans who could interpret it at will. Really she was protecting an audience closer to home. It’s clear now that the title track is about her father’s imprisonment (“Our father in exile/ For God only knows how many years”). Clark’s parents divorced when she was a child, and they have eight children in their mixed family, some of whom were very young when ‘Strange Mercy’ came out. She explains this discretion now as her method of sheltering them.

“I am protective of my family,” she says. “It didn’t feel safe to me. I disliked the fact that it was taken as malicious obfuscations. No.” Clark wanted to deal with the family drama in art but not in press. She managed to remain tight-lipped until she became the subject of a different intrusion. As St. Vincent’s star continued to rocket, Clark found herself in a relationship with British model Cara Delevingne from 2014 to 2016, and attracted celebrity tabloid attention. Details of her family’s past were exposed. The Daily Mail came knocking on her sister’s door in Texas, where Clark is from.

“Luckily I’m super tight with my family and the Daily Mail didn’t find anybody who was gonna sell me out,” she says. “They were looking for it. Clark girls are a fucking impenetrable force. We will cut a bitch.”

Four years later, Clark gets to own the narrative herself in the medium that’s most apt: music. “The story has evolved. I’ve evolved. People have grown up. I would rather be the one to tell my story,” she says, ruminating on the misfortune that this was robbed from her: a story that writes itself. “My father’s release from prison is a great starting point, right?” Between tours and whenever she could manage, Clark would go and visit him in prison and would be signing autographs in the visitation room for the inmates, who all followed her success with every album release, press clipping and late night TV spot. She joked to her sisters that she’d become the belle of the ball there. “I don’t have to make that up,” she says.

There’s an ease to Clark’s interview manner that hasn’t existed before. She seems ready not just to discuss her father’s story, but to own certain elements of herself. “Hell where can you run when the outlaw’s inside you,” she sings on the title track, alluding to her common traits with her father. “I’ve always had a relationship with my dad and a good one. We’re very similar,” she says. “The movies we like, the books, he liked fashion. He’s really funny, he’s a good time.” Her father’s release gave Clark and her brothers and sisters permission to joke. “The title, ‘Daddy’s Home’ makes me laugh. It sounds fucking pervy as hell. But it’s about a real father ten years later. I’m Daddy now!”

The question of who’s fathering who is a serious one, but it’s also not serious. Clark wears the idea of Daddy as a costume. She likes to play. She joins today’s Zoom in a pair of sunglasses wider than her face and a silk scarf framing her head. The sunglasses come off, and the scarf is a tool for distraction. She ties it above her forehead, attempts a neckerchief, eventually tosses it aside. Clark can only be earnest for so long before she seeks some mischief. She doesn’t like to stay in reality for extensive periods. “I like to create a world and then I get to live in it and be somebody new every two or three years,” she says. “Who wants to be themselves all the time?”

‘Daddy’s Home‘ began in New York at Electric Lady studios before COVID hit and was finished in her studio in LA. She worked on it with “my friend Jack” [Jack Antonoff, producer for Lana Del Rey, Lorde, Taylor Swift]. Antonoff and Clark worked on ‘Masseduction’ and found a winning formula, pushing Clark’s guitar-orientated electronic universe to its poppiest maximum, without compromising her idiosyncrasies. “We’re simpatico. He’s a dream,” she says. “He played the hell outta instruments on this record. He’s crushing it on drums, crushing it on Wurlitzer.” The pair let loose. They began with ‘The Holiday Party’, one of the warmest tracks Clark’s ever written. It’s as inviting as a winter fireplace, stoked by soulful horns, acoustic guitar and backing singers. “Every time they sang something I’d say, ‘Yeah but can you do it sleazier? Make your voice sound like you’ve been up for three days.” Clark speaks of an unspoken understanding with Antonoff as regards the vibe: “Familiar sounds. The opposite of my hands coming out of the speaker to choke you till you like it. This is not submission. Just inviting. I can tell a story in a different way.”

The entire record is familiar, giving the listener the satisfaction that they’ve heard the songs before but can’t quite place them. It’s a satisfying accompaniment to a pandemic that encouraged nostalgic listening. Clark was nostalgic too. She reverted to records she enjoyed with her father: Stevie Wonder’s catalogue from the 1970s (‘Songs In The Key Of Life’, ‘Innervisions’, ‘Talking Book’) and Steely Dan. “Not to be the dude at the record store but it’s specifically post-flower child idealism of the ’60s,” she explains. “It’s when it flipped into nihilism, which I much prefer. Pre disco, pre punk. That music is in me in a deep way. It’s in my ears.”

On ‘The Melting Of The Sun’ she has a delicious time creating a psychedelic Pink Floyd odyssey while exploring the path tread by her heroes Marilyn Monroe, Joni Mitchell, Joan Didion and Nina Simone. It’s a series of beautiful vignettes of brilliant women who were met with a hostile environment. Clark considers what they did to overcome that. “I’m thanking all these women for making it easier for me to do it. I hope I didn’t totally let them down.” Clark is often the only woman sharing a stage with rock luminaries such as Dave Grohl, Damon Albarn and David Byrne, and has appeared to have shattered a male-centric glass ceiling. She’s unsure she’s doing enough to redress the imbalance. “There are little things I can do and control,” she says of hiring women on her team. “God! Now I feel like I should do more. What should I do? It’s a big question. You know what I have seen a lot more from when I started to now? Girls playing guitar.”

If one woman reinvented the guitar in the past decade, it’s Clark. Behind her is a rack of them. The pandemic has taken her out of the wild in which she’s accustomed to tantalising audiences at night with her displays of riffing and heel-balancing. Instead, she’s chained to her desk. Her obsession with heels in the lyrics of ‘Daddy’s Home’ she reckons may be a reflection of her nights performing ‘Masseduction’ in thigh highs. “I made sure that nothing I wore was comfortable,” she recalls. “Everything was about stricture and structure and latex. I had to train all the time to make sure I could handle it.” Is she taking the heels off when live shows return? “Absofuckinglutely not.”

Clark is interested in the new generation. She’s recently tweeted about Arlo Parks and has become a big fan of Russian singer-songwriter Kate NV. “I’m obsessed with Russia,” she says. In a recent LA Times profile, she professed to a pandemic intellectual fixation on Stalin. “Yeah! I mean right now my computer is propped up on stuff. You are sitting on The Gulag Archipelago, The Best Short Stories Of Dostoyevsky andThe Plays Of Chekhov. I’m kinda in it.” The pop world interests Clark, too. She was credited with a co-write on Swift’s 2019 album ‘Lover’. At last year’s Grammys she performed a duet with Dua Lipa. It was one of the queerest performances the Grammys has ever aired. Clark interrupts.

“What about it seemed queer?!”

You know… The lip bite, for one!

“Wait. Did she bite her lip?”

No, you bit your lip.

“I did?!”

Everyone was talking about it. Come on, Annie.

“Serious? I…”

You both waltzed around each other with matching hairdos, making eyes…

“I have no memory of it.”

Frustrating as it may be in a world of too much information, Clark’s lack of willingness to overanalyse every creative decision she makes or participates in is something to treasure. “I want to be a writer who can write great songs,” she says. “I’m so glad I can play guitar and fuck around in the studio to my heart’s desire but it’s about what you can say. What’s a great song? What lyric is gonna rip your guts open. Just make great shit! That’s where I was with this record. That’s all I wanna do with my life.”

More than a decade into St. Vincent, Clark doesn’t reflect. She looks strictly forward. “I’m like a horse with blinders,” she says. She did make an exception to take stock lately when the phone rang. “I saw a +44 and that gets me excited,” she says. “Who could this be?” Well, who was it? “Paul McCartney,” she says, in disbelief. “Anything I’ve done, any mistake I’ve made, somehow it’s forgiven, assuaged. I did something right in my life if a fucking Beatle called me.”

Now there’s a get out of jail free card if ever she needed one.

Daddy’s Home by St. Vincent is out May 14, 2021.

#‘I HAVE NO MEMORY OF IT’#LOOOOOL #WHY ARE U LIKE THIS #st vincent #full of shit #annie clark #Annie Clark on beds #yellow is the color for dull ache of bad penetration?

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kittyanonymity · 4 years

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A Ladybug in Gotham #2

Marinette is forever flustered

Well, ya know, I’ve got at least 2 chapters of this, so why not just post the second one too, right? XD Also, I hope you guys are ready for like, Ultimate Chloe. I love that brat, and I’m gonna be pissed forever at her lack of redemption. Also, I am totally going to abuse the tropes, be prepared. Also, cussing. These kids are nearly 18, and I tell you what, I have heard too many teenagers swearing like sailors. Our kids won’t be that bad, but the adults? No promises ;P

Ao3

Part 1 Part 2 :HERE: Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Enjoy!! <3<3

~~~~~~

Marinette awoke to the frantic ringing of her phone, and she groggily reached over and answered it. She’d stayed up late, talking to her parents, reassuring them she was ok; her mother had been furious, but Marinette had assured her it hadn’t really been Madame Bustier’s fault.

Marinette yawned as she put the phone to her ear, “H-hello…?”

“Marinette! Get down here now! They’re trying to leave you!”

At the sound of Chloe’s voice, Marinette shot up out of bed, “What!”

“That’s what I said! Lila fed Mme. Bustier some cock and bull story about you not feeling well after the ‘drama’ last night! I tried telling her, but she won’t listen! She won’t let me off this damn bus!” Marinette flung herself out of bed, nearly tripping over her own two feet.

“I’m on my way, Chloe!”

“Hurry! I can’t stall these idiots forever!”

Chloe hung up, and Marinette threw open her suitcase, digging through her clothes. Baggy jeans, with her new shoes, and an off the shoulder pink crop top were thrown on haphazardly, and then Tikki was there, holding her new Robin hoodie.

“Here, Marinette!” Marinette smiled, thanking Tikki before she was pulling it on, and grabbing her purse. She stuffed her phone in quickly, and then opened it up to let Tikki and Kaalki zip in. She zipped her bag up quickly, grabbed her key card, and was running for the stairs; she didn’t have time to wait for the elevator.

She hit the lobby running, sprinting for the door, but she could already see the bus leaving; she caught Chloe’s eyes through the door, seeing her through the bus window. She looked furious, and the last thing Marinette saw was her turn on their teacher, shouting at the top of her lungs.

By the time Marinette made it out the doors, the bus was already turning around a corner, and out of sight. She wanted to scream.

“Marinette?” She looked down through watery eyes to see Tikki peering at her from her purse. Her kwami looked distraught, “Are you ok?” Marinette took a deep breath, and wiped her eyes.

“No, I’m not. I can’t believe they would do this…” She sighed, adjusting her bag, “I’ll just walk I guess…”

Wayne Tower couldn’t be too far, right? She started walking, heading the same direction as the bus, making sure to make space for any other pedestrians. The streets were crowded this early in the morning, with many people on their way to work, and she had to dodge several people who were too busy staring at their phones to pay attention.

She was so tired. Tired of all this pettiness, and she didn’t like how angry it made her. She hated being angry more than she hated being upset. Anger took so much energy to maintain, but sadness could just be felt, and then it would pass; anger clung to her mind like cobwebs. Small, but there; always there. Marinette sighed as she turned the corner the bus had disappeared behind.

And promptly yelped when she ran face first into someone.

She stumbled back, eyes shut tight, and tripped over her own two feet. Marinette braced for the impact of the concrete, but was shocked when an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her forward. She was met with brilliant green eyes, and dark hair when she finally looked up. The young man stared down at her in slight shock, but he smiled a bit when she looked at him. Her heart thudded dangerously in her chest, and shocks danced across her back where his hand was braced. Wait, he was saying something! Pay attention!!

“Are you alright?”

Marinette nodded, not trusting her voice as he pulled her back up, straightening her. Her face flushed.

“Uh, th-thank you, sir.” His smile grew just a bit, as he held her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing it softly.

“It’s not a problem. It’s the least I can do for the woman who saved my niece yesterday.”

Marinette’s eyes grew wide, and her blush escalated to her ears, “You’re Mar’i’s uncle?” Well, she could see the resembelance at least.

He lowered her hand, and nodded, “Damian Wayne, at your service, miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Thank you for protecting Mar’i yesterday.” She waved her hand.

“P-please, you really don’t have to thank me! It was no problem at all!” Damian observed her for a moment before he nodded.

“If that’s what you wish, miss Marinette.”

“Please, just Marinette is fine! We’re nearly the same age, it looks like, heh.” She rubbed the back of her neck, and his smile grew a bit teasing; she was so easily flustered.

It was cute.

He quickly noticed though… That she was completely alone in the street.

His smile grew tense.

“If I may, Marinette… I thought you were here on a trip with your school. Where’s your class?”

Marinette paused; because holy shit, she was talking to the youngest son of Bruce fucking Wayne, the sponsor for this whole trip, and he was asking where her class was. She chewed her lip for a moment, before she finally sighed. She couldn’t lie; that wouldn’t be right.

“They… left me behind.”

Damian blinked, “What?” he asked flatly. Marinette flinched, chancing a glance up at him.

“My friend Chloe called me, telling me the class was trying to leave me behind. One of my classmates told our teacher that I wanted to stay in my room after… yesterday. Chloe couldn’t stall them much longer, and I tried to catch up.” She sighed, gripping the strap on her purse tighter, “I made it to the lobby in time to see the bus pull away.”

Damian scowled, “Forgive me, but your teacher sounds like an idiot.”

Marinette snorted, and then covered her mouth, sneaking a bashful glance at him; it made his scowl fall, and he smiled.

“Where is your class going right now, Marinette?” She rubbed the back of her neck, averting her eyes.

“Th-they’re uh, actually heading to Wayne Tower…” Damian couldn’t help but laugh at the irony, and Marinette stared up at him in slight awe. When she’d researched Gotham, she had of course read up on the family that was sponsoring her school’s trip. She knew Bruce Wayne had several children, but the only one she consistently found mention of was Damian Wayne; and it seemed he wasn’t nearly as much the Ice Prince as everyone thought he was.

Because my god, he was gorgeous when he laughed.

He gave her a grin, and offered her his arm, and Marinette snapped out of her daze.

“Well, it’s quite the walk, Marinette. Would you let me give you a ride?” Marinette stared at him, looking from him to his offered arm; and as she thought about it, she realized… She felt pretty comfortable around this guy.

She smiled, linking her arm with his, “I think I’d really appreciate that, Damian; thank you.”

Damian returned her smile with surprising ease, “The pleasure is mine, angel.”

~~~~~~~~~~

‘Why did you do that you imbecile! Who kisses a girl’s hand on the street like that!! Augh!!’

Damian bit his lip as he got in his car, Marinette secured in the passenger seat. He couldn’t believe what had come over him! He’d never reacted like that to a woman before. And then he called her angel! He snuck a glance at her to see her texting on her phone, before she smiled, and put it away; he averted his eyes in time for her to look over at him.

“Thank you so much for this, Damian, I mean it.” She gave him a smile, and Damian cursed how his pulse quickened; he still returned her smile though. It felt almost criminal not to.

“It’s no problem. I was going to head that way eventually.”

Marinette’s smile turned playful, “Oh? What was the first order of business for you today, dear sir?” Damian snickered at her tone of voice, before he actually remembered why he’d been there; though he had to admit, her accent was adorable.

“Funny enough, I was coming to meet your class at your hotel.” He retrieved an envelope from the interior lining of his jacket, and held it out to her, “Father asked me to bring you this.”

Marinette took the envelope with wide eyes, and Damian continued speaking as he started the car, and he pulled out into traffic.

“Your classes’ schedule didn’t have you leaving until 10 A.M., so I thought I had plenty of time to arrive; imagine my surprise, running into you.” Marinette offered him a sheepish grimace.

“Sorry about that. There are a couple students in my class who… prefer things done their way.” Damian nodded, an amused smirk on his face.

“I’ve noticed.” He grinned a bit, glancing at her, “Nice hoodie by the way. I didn’t know you guys knew about the Bat pack in France.” Marinette grinned, glancing down at her new jacket.

“There’s actually not a whole lot of information on anyone besides Batman, but I have a lot of respect for his work, and how he cares for the villains he fights,” Giving him a wink, Marinette said, “But Robin’s colors suit me better, and based on the videos I’ve seen, he’s an excellent fighter.” She sighed, leaning back in the seat with an almost wistful look on her face, “I would kill for a sparring partner like that.”

Valiantly fighting his embarrassment, Damian cleared his throat, “You like martial arts?”

Marinette nodded, “Yeah. I started doing it so I could protect myself from the akuma at home, and then I found that, well, I really liked it? It’s invigorating, and it helped me quite a bit with my confidence. I started gymnastics a bit after that, just to help with my flexibility and agility.” She grinned, shrugging her shoulder a bit, “It’s been a great time.”

“Well, why don’t you have a sparring partner?” Marinette sighed.

“I used to, but…” Marinette bit her lip, and Damian saw her glance at him, like she was considering something before she finally huffed, “Well, he-he kept… asking me out. It didn’t matter if I told him no, or not, he just kept asking. And it was fine at first, you know, we were only 13, it was funny. And then…” Her hands tightened on her bag, “and then one day, it wasn’t. I had a boyfriend, Adrien; we were only 14 at the time, but god… God, I loved him.” Damian couldn’t help but frown at the bitter way she said it, before she laughed a bit, “I wasn’t very smart, back then. But my partner, when I told him I was dating someone, he just lost it, started going on and on about how I was leading him on.”

She sighed again, this time a deeper, more tired kind of sound, and Damian hated the misery in it.

“We don’t really hang out that much anymore, except for when we need to.” Marinette turned and looked out the window, watching the people go by as they drove, “And sometimes, I feel guilty that I’m happy about it. I’m glad that I don’t have to see him unless it’s absolutely necessary. I just spar with my maman when she’s free, but she’s not as enthusiastic about it as she used to be; it hurts her more now.”

She jumped when Damian reached over, and gently held one of her hands in one of his; she looked at him, but he was staring at the road.

“If you're so willing, I’ll spar with you, angel. I’ve got quite the history in martial arts, so I should last a while before you put me in the dirt.” He grinned, glancing at her, and Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. Damian stopped at a stop light, glad he got to look at her like this.

She was beautiful when she laughed, oh god.

If he wasn’t careful, she’d hear his heart trying to break through his ribs.

He gestured to the envelope in her hands, “You should go ahead and open that.” He turned his attention back to the road as the light turned green, and Damian heard her tear the envelope gently, careful of any trash. After a moment, she gasped.

“What!”

Damian couldn’t help but laugh at the shocked, incredulous sound of her voice, and she turned to look at him, a flush high on her cheeks.

“Did you know?!”

Damian slowly stopped laughing after a moment, grinning as he pulled to a stop in front of Wayne Enterprises. He looked at her, “Did I know my father was going to invite you to dinner at the manor tonight?” His grin turned teasing, and he shrugged a shoulder, “Maybe. Now, let’s go find your class, angel.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Chloe and Alix were waiting for her when they walked through the doors of Wayne Enterprise, or Wayne Tower as some of the locals called it. Chloe reached her first, wrapping her in a tight hug, while Alix hung back.

“Oh thank god! I thought we’d lose you for good in this damn city!” Chloe pulled back, checking her friend over from head to toe, while Marinette laughed.

“Chloe, I’m fine; I made a friend, the one I texted you about and he helped me get here.” That made the blonde pause, and Damian froze as her gaze swivelled to him. She gave him a shrewd once over as her eyes narrowed.

“What’s your name?” Damian smiled, and held out his hand.

“Damian. You must be Chloe. Marinette told me you’re her best friend.”

Chloe gave him a cheeky grin, and took his hand, shaking it, “No last name?”

Marinette pursed her lips, “About that, Chloe…” She gestured her friend to come closer, and once Chloe leaned over to her, Marinette whispered in her ear, “This is Damian Wayne, Chloe. He’s the youngest son of Bruce Wayne.”

Marinette watched as Chloe’s eyelids fell, and a broad smile spread over her face; her eyes slid over to the rest of the class, a fiendish twinkle in her eye. Damian nearly took a step back at the look on the girls face, and Marinette looked properly concerned.

“You don’t say~....” Chloe drawled, her smile devious; Marinette swore she could see her hair curling into horns. With a hum far too cheery, Chloe looped Marinette’s arm with Damian’s before looping her own through Marinette’s other side.

“Let’s go greet everyone shall we, Mari-bear? Oh, and Damian dear?” Damian raised a brow, and promptly paled at the smile Chloe gave him, “Say nothing about your last name, got it?”

He nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” Marinette blushed, while Chloe looked at her with a pleased smile.

“Ok, I like him; good find, DC~.” So saying, Chloe promptly lead the charge, so to speak. The three of them walked up to where Madame Bustier was speaking with-

Damian groaned, right as Dick looked over and saw him, and by association, Marinette and Chloe. The look of utter glee on his older brother’s face would haunt him for days to come, he was sure. The teacher noticed them a moment later.

“Marinette, there you are! Lila told me you didn’t want to join us today.”

Damian felt Marinette’s whole body tense, and because he was looking at her, he saw her eyes narrow in rage. He felt a little bad at how quickly the heat rushed to his cheeks.

“Mme. Bustier, I never said anything like that, and if that had been what I wanted to do, I would’ve told you directly when I told you what happened before curfew last night.”

Damian felt himself straighten at her tone of voice; this wasn’t the first time she’d had this conversation, was it? He paused for a moment though.

Because there it was.

That confidence from the surveillance camera, displayed before him.

God, her eyes were so blue, he could stare at them for ages…

And promptly realized he was doing just that, and looked away.

‘Pull yourself together, damnit! You are smooth! And don’t let them walk all over her!’ He glanced back at her as her teacher responded to her in french, ‘Not that she needs my help, because wow, she’s pretty when she’s mad.’

Damian frowned when a new voice joined the conversation.

“I-I’m so sorry, Marinette, I thought you meant it when you said you wished you could sleep all day. I wouldn’t have told Mme. Bustier otherwise…” He looked at a brunette wearing orange as she stepped over, tears running down her face. Damian raised a brow at the act; they weren’t actually buying this were they? One look around at most of the class, and it was obvious that yes, yes they were.

Marinette gave Lila a flat look, “I didn’t even talk to you yesterday, Lila; Chloe did. I generally try to not talk to you.” The girl’s cries grew in volume, and Madame Bustier gave Marinette a look, but before she could say anything, Dick intervened.

Clapping, he looked around at the gathered students, “Now that everyone’s here, let’s begin the tour! Right this way guys!” He winked at Marinette as he walked away, starting the tour. Several of the students gave Marinette a dirty look as they walked away, following Dick; two boys slowed, sharing a look with Alix. The pink haired girl simply nodded, and they went ahead.

Marinette sighed as she followed at a more sedate pace, keeping several feet between them and the class. The three of them kept their arms linked while they walked, and Alix skated up next Chloe.

“Are you ok?” Marinette glanced over at Chloe as she asked, and sighed, looking ahead of them at the backs of her classmates. Madame Bustier was walking with Lila consoling the girl as she ’cried’.

“As good as I can be, I guess.”

Chloe looked to her left as Alix nudged her, and the pinkette nodded her head to a nearby bench.

“Hey, Chlo, can we talk real quick?” The small group came to a slow stop, and Chloe stared at Alix for a moment, before she finally sighed rather dramatically.

“I gueeessss~....” Chloe turned and looked at Damian, and he had to remind himself that he regularly fought people much more terrifying than Marinette’s best friend.

It did little to reassure him.

“Damian, dear, can I trust you with my girl here?”

He nodded, glancing at the back of the class as they continued walking, “Without question.”

Damian met her eyes, and they stared at each other for a moment before Chloe slowly smiled; and unlike the one from before, Damian was surprised to see how genuine it was.

“Good. We’ll catch up soon,” Chloe waved her fingers at them, before wrapping her free arm with Alix’s, and then the two girls were walking away, to a more private spot. Damian glanced down at Marinette at his side, and couldn’t help his snort of amusement. Marinette looked up at him, moving her hands from her face, her face aghast.

“Don’t laugh! I can’t believe she said that!” Her cheeks were so red, she was sure she was going to melt. Damian snickered as they resumed their pace, lagging further from the class now. He saw Dick glance at them from over the heads of the students; he ignored him with practiced ease, giving Marinette a grin.

“Sorry, angel, but at least you know she genuinely cares for you.” He noticed when she glanced away, a small smile on her face, and his stomach flipped pleasantly.

“I’m glad to have her in my life, Alix too. I wouldn’t be here without them.”

Her voice didn’t waver, nor did her expression fall; but Damian felt that those words rang deeper than she meant them to. He unlinked their arms, Marinette looking at him in shock, before he laced their fingers together. Damian had never found it so easy to smile, and now, he could hardly stop.

“You are a strong young woman, Marinette. Your friends see what your class doesn’t, and personally…” His smile grew as her cheeks flushed even brighter, “I’d really like to get to know the person whom they love so much.” Damian watched as she bit her lip, giving him a small smile.

“You know, Damian, I think it’s a little funny.” He grinned, not noticing how he rubbed his thumb idly over hers; Marinette did, and she was almost shocked to find it comforting.

“What’s that?”

The color in her cheeks dimmed, if only slightly, and he was startled when she gave him a cheeky grin, “Half this city is convinced you never smile, but you have one of the most gorgeous smiles I’ve ever seen.”

Damian would deny tripping over his own two feet until the day he died. He didn’t fall, of course not; he was Robin for heaven's sake. But he did stumble, his cheeks bright red. He turned his head back towards her, ready to tease her, but he stopped.

Marinette was laughing.

Head thrown back, shoulders shaking, and her eyes closed in good humor.

‘Oh my god, I am smitten, send hELP!’

Damian couldn’t stop the small smile on his face as her laughter died down to chuckles, watching her rub her eyes with her free hand. She gave him a grin when she recovered, and bumped her shoulder with his.

“What, can dish it, but can’t take it?” He scoffed, and Marinette giggled at the look he gave her.

“Hardly. I was just caught off guard, angel.” He grinned, looking at her, “You banter well, you know.” Marinette hummed, the tune playful.

“Suuurreee I do, I toootally believe you.” She laughed at the mock offense on his face.

“Ok Sass-master, it’s timeout for you. I’ll have to tell my father to cancel that dinner I guess…” Marinette laughed, knocking their shoulders again.

“Who exactly is the sassy one here again?” Damian shrugged.

“Why not both?” That sent Marinette into another peal of laughter.

Damian noticed several of her classmates looking back, almost in shock; but it was Dick who grabbed Damian’s attention first.

His older brother was staring at him, trying to continue his tour guide spiel and failing; Damian promptly rolled his eyes, and returned his attention to Marinette. If his brother wanted to let his mouth hang open and play bug catcher, well it wasn’t his problem. His grip on Marinette’s hand tightened gently as he watched her slowly calm down.

He… could almost get used to this.

~~~~~~~~~~

Deeming their location secure enough, Alix swivelled on her skates and turned to Chloe; which would’ve been great if the blonde was actually paying any attention. Instead Chloe was staring after Marinette and the guy she’d come in with. Alix sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose at the look of utter glee on Chloe’s face.

“Chloe, who is that guy? What is going on?” When Chloe looked at her, Alix could feel the vindictive satisfaction roll off of her in waves. She grinned.

“That, my dear Alix, is Damian Wayne.” Alix snorted, startling herself into laughter.

“No, no way! You’re shitting me!” Chloe simply nodded.

“Yep. The very same one that Lila has been boasting about dating all. DAY.” Alix grinned, putting her hands on her hips as she regarded Chloe with amusement.

“What are you planning, Chlo?”

Chloe turned back, her eyes finding the couple - and wouldn’t that be an interesting development~ -, and she watched as Marinette threw her head back and laughed. Chloe smiled, gently crossing her arms as Alix came up and leaned on her shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ll have to do much, Al. Lila will do my work for me, and she won’t even know it.” Chloe’s smile softened as she watched her friend tease one of the coldest boys in the world, “He makes her feel safe. And right now, that’s enough.” Alix nodded.

“It’s like they’ve known each other forever. Isn’t that a little fast?” Chloe made a so-so movement with her hand.

“Marinette knows her heart better than most of us. She has the best instincts out of anyone, especially since Lila happened.” Chloe sighed, before flipping her hair over her shoulder and giving Alix a smile. It was a smile full of razors.

“Besides, that boy is terrified of me already; I’m not sure what Mari-bear told him, but it was effective.” Alix laughed again, reaching up and ruffling Chloe’s hair. The blonde yelped and batted her hand away.

“Rude!” Alix just kept laughing.

“So, just to clarify. Lila has been telling everyone she’s dating Damian Wayne, who is right there," she pointed at him, noticing how far away the class was getting, “and Marinette has no idea about this yet, does she?” Chloe shook her head, and Alix’s grin grew.

“So, we’re just gonna let those two be disgustingly adorable, and then when everyone finds out, it’ll be a solid strike to Lila’s little castle, right?” Chloe booped Alix on the nose, her smile devious.

“Exactly. Let’s go catch up, and watch our girl’s back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was not how today was supposed to go.

Adrien grit his teeth as he heard Marinette laugh at something else that guy had said to her. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that in years, not even when they were together could he get her to laugh like she was now. Ignoring the fire raging in his gut, Adrien chanced a glance back at the pair.

She was staring up at this guy like he was a breath of fresh air, and she was drowning. The fire in him turned sour as Marinette flushed, swinging their hands between them.

She used to look at him like that. He wanted her to look at him like that, always.

Adrien turned away with a click of his tongue, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He was going to use this trip to win her back, one way or another. They were meant to be together, they both knew it. Ladybug had been nothing more than an infatuation, but Marinette? Sweet, adoring Marinette, who had constantly gone out of her way for him; bringing him food, and anything else he’d happened to mention. And he’d lost it all, just because she wanted to expose Lila; his miraculous, and the girl he'd loved.

A growl rumbled in his chest, startling Nino next to him. Adrien played it off with a cough, smiling at his friend and telling him he was fine.

He wasn’t fine; but he would be once Marinette was back at his side.

Where she belonged.

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

@coffeetoffee HOLY SHIT i just saw someone run into the Ice Prince on the street, and he didn’t kill them?????? WHAT??????? #IcePrince #onlyinGotham #DamianWayneCANsmile #WAIT #wheresmycoffee!!!?

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

And that is chapter 2! Chapter 3 technically isn’t finished yet, so I won’t post again for awhile probably. ALSO! Adrien gonna make a BIG mistake next chapter! BUT! Dumb boi will learn. ALSO ALSO! We’ll meet the brothers!! YAY! Jason is my favorite, with Tim being a close second; I just never cared much for Dick. (lMAO ;D)((I’m sorry, I swear I’m an adult lmfao)) I’m fairly well versed in DC things, so it might get a little messy down the line; especially since I’ve pretty much said ‘Fuck Miraculous canon’ since season 3 lol

Hope you guys liked it!!! The tropes continue!! YAY!

Part 1 Part 2 :HERE: Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tag List Cause I almost forgot!! (sorry not used to tumblr lol)

@vgirl-10123 , @crazylittlemunchkin @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm , @bluerosette23 , @casual-darkness

#maribat #daminette #maridami #mlb x dc #fanfic #HEY CHAPTER 2!#A Ladybug in Gotham #Chapter 3 is my favorite so far I can't wait for y'all to read that one lol #Chloe is the dopest bff you could ever hope for #and that's all I'll say about it lol >.>

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semercury · 3 years

Note

https://youtu.be/snV8Xck-iwE

Have you watched this video? I really like it, but tbh I don't see Fugo deciding not to go after the boss as a betrayal to the Bucci gang; it was just his choice, and honestly a sensible one at that. But I do kinda like the explanation given in the video for him staying back, about how it reflects his own lack of belief in himself :"( I love this boy so much someone get him some therapy and happiness pls

i have! i rewatched it as a refresher, since it’s been a while and my brain is very fuzzy today. i have learned i need to be careful watching videos about jojo, especially part 5, on youtube, because sometimes they make me angry lol. especially ones about fugo, because some people like to take a certain non-canon piece and treat it like canon and insult anyone who doesn’t put it up on a pedestal and that just... rubs me the wrong way. i literally watched one video that basically said the anime version of his backstory was pointless and bad, and the only good one was the one from a certain piece of non-canon media (i’m afraid to mention it bc i don’t want it to be in the tags bc i don’t want to get attacked by people for having a different opinion) and i was very unhappy about that lol. they’re like “his anger isn’t supposed to have a reason, that’s the point, and giving him a reason like that detracts from his character” and i’m like buddy you obviously one didn’t watch the anime closely (he is angry before the incident, as evidence by him nearly stabbing his father) and two have a deep misunderstanding of his character as a whole and how depression can manifest as outward anger. but i digress...

i do like this video, and i generally trust xforts and am okay with the things said. there’s other people i don’t trust to talk about fugo, but xforts is okay. i like that this video does go into a deepdive of his personality and what ultimately makes him different from the others in the gang.

(oops it got long)

i have a lot of thoughts when it comes to fugo leaving and people considering it a betrayal. i absolutely don’t trust people who slap the traitor label on him and call it a day. but i do think there’s some nuance to it. i find it interesting that people tend to see it as a betrayal, because when looking at the facts, it’s not. he was given a choice and he chose one of the options he was given. bruno didn’t want people to go, he wanted them to be safe. but i think it’s the emotional level that people always focus on, in which case... it’s a bit more complicated. i still think betray is too strong of a word, and abandon isn’t quite right either, but he did separate himself from them, and i think that hurts. separation hurts, and people watching or reading want all the characters to stay together, because humans are social creatures and crave togetherness, so seeing a separation hits us in an emotional level, and it’s hard to see it logically.

but a level of it that i’ve been personally thinking about a lot lately is like... did fugo feel like they abandoned him as well? a big reason he stayed behind was because it was a safer option. it guaranteed a familiar safety, but all the others chose the risk. the others chose following bruno and giorno in their betrayal against the gang as a whole over staying alive and where fugo could be with them. he had finally found a group of people who actually cared about him, and they chose a near stranger over their own safety and, by extension, him. i think it probably hurt the most when narancia left. at first, narancia was opting to stay, and fugo had at least one friend he could count on to be safe and to be with him, but then he left too and fugo was all alone.

i think the different members of the bucci gang would have had different reactions to fugo’s choice as well. i could see bruno as being the most understanding, possibly even glad and relieved that he didn’t come because it meant he would be safe. fugo had been his first recruit, and i’m sure they were very close. there would have been the sadness of separation, but i don’t think bruno would have ever viewed it as a betrayal or abandonment. i think abbacchio would have been similar, but in a more apathetic way. i think he’d tell the others that he’d give fugo a hard time if they ever saw him again, but i don’t think he actually would. i think he and fugo are very similar in a lot of ways, and whether it had ever been said in so many words or not, there was a mutual understanding between them. i think he would be worried for fugo emotionally, knowing he would potentially regret what he had done and blame himself if anything happened to any of them. after all, abbacchio knows all too well how it feels to shoulder blame for the death of a friend, even if the gun wasn’t in your hand.

giorno would maybe be upset, purely on the basis of how he views his goals as being righteous, or consider it abandonment, but not enough to like. actually be super upset. he had only known fugo for a few days anyway, and besides, he has bigger things to worry about. i don’t think he would hold it against fugo though. giorno’s smart and tactical as well. he’d understand what pros and cons were probably weighed in fugo’s head. i think trish would be angry at first but then would come to understand. i think she’d take it personally in the beginning but then later realize that, no, it wasn’t actually personal. it was a dangerous situation and he was trying to survive and suggesting his friends survive as well. and again, she has bigger things to worry about.

mista would take it fairly hard i think, but i think he’d realize what he’s feeling isn’t actually betrayal but just the grief of knowing he may never see one of his best friends again, and i don’t think it would go deeper than that. narancia is someone i think would take it pretty hard, probably rashly calling it a betrayal, or at least until he’s gently reminded that he nearly did the same thing. considering his past and how highly he values friendships, i think it would be really hard on him to be separated like that in that kind of way, and mix that in with how much he wears his emotions on his sleeve and can be a little hot headed too... but i think he’d come around after he calmed down, instead choosing to look forward to when he could see one of his best friends again and lovingly tease him about the whole situation.

but the person i think would actually consider it a betrayal and abandonment is fugo himself. i already touched on how he might also feel like his team abandoned him instead of the other way around, but i think that initial hurt would fade into guilt and fear of the future pretty quickly. i think being all alone and reflecting would make him so afraid for his friends and wonder if he made the right choice, wonder if they hated him, wonder if they’d be okay. he’d wonder if he had gone if he would have only caused more problems, he’d wonder if there was anything he should have, could have, said to convince them to stay. and when he hears of their deaths, he absolutely would feel like he has blood on his hands. if only he had gone with them, maybe he could have protected them or figured something out that would have fixed the situation. if only he had been a bit more convincing, maybe they’d still be alive. especially narancia. he almost had narancia still alive.

and then i think all those what if’s would turn into other what if’s. what if he had convinced narancia to stay and that caused even more people to die without narancia there? what if he had gone with them and accidentally gotten them killed, either by purple haze going off or just him messing something up? what if, what if, what if?

the boy already has depression. no one can convince me otherwise. anger is a very common symptom in teenage depression patients, and regardless of which backstory you subscribe to, the common theme of his parents placing pressure on him and then abandoning him when he probably needed them the most would be enough to mess anybody up. purple haze just screams depression to me. i mean, fugo literally hates and loathes the manifestation of his soul, which represents a part of him that he hates and loathes... that self loathing does not exist inside a vacuum. this boy hates himself so much it can hurt everyone around him. and like the video suggests, he can’t move past this view of himself. he cannot accept himself.

and so what would those doubts and worries do to him? what would worrying that the only people he cared about now hated him do to him? what would blaming himself for the deaths of his friends do to him?

fugo absolutely needs therapy. fugo needed therapy from when he was a young child, bottling up his emotions because that was what was expected of him and feeling the only thing people wanted from him was his successes. his parents did not value him as a person, and instead discarded him when he brought shame to their name. and he needs even more therapy now after everything he’s been through and all the ways that self hatred and anger would have compounded in on itself.

i honestly believe that every single character in jojo could benefit from some form of therapy, but fugo is one of the ones that i look at and go “no, you need to go to therapy like now.” though, honestly, i think the entire bucci gang makes me feel that way.

#ask #msdesigirl #sorry if this is rlly rambly hghfhds i'm getting a migraine #and i also just have so many thoughts on fugo #it's hard for me to organize them sometimes lol

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stella-monstrum · 3 years

Text

Rob Zombie; "Why it's time to step outside the confinements of his own box."

For close to four decades,

Rob Zombie has brought nonstop psychedelic grooves and a rockstar presence while gracing his own music and the silver screen with gut-churning, drug-tripping visuals. He not only commands quite the presence in films (whether his own successes or others’), but also makes appearances within many other horror soundtracks. There’s no denying that Zombie is a bloodied savant who has stayed incredibly consistent.

[ᴿᵒᵇ ᶻᵒᵐᵇᶦᵉ. ⁽ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ: ᴳᵒᵒᵍˡᵉ ᴵᵐᵃᵍᵉˢ⁾]

(Written by Stella, edited by Jacob J.)

(Side note; tumblr’s photo formatting is a pain)

Let’s take a dive into his music before getting into his film library. From 1985-1997, White Zombie released six albums (between studio and compilations). La Sexorcisto: Devil Music Volume One didn’t break into the Billboard 200 chart until a year after its 1992 release. Shortly thereafter, it became the hot and groovy bong success of the band, going on to sell two million copies. Astro Creep 2000, their final and fourth studio release, was their first and only album to chart within the Top 10 of the Billboard 200 in 1995. Up to this day in 2020, “White Zombie” has been featured in 47 TV, film, and video game soundtracks, from Beavis & Butthead to Pen15 to Bride Of Chucky (which includes a personal favorite moment of mine), amongst many others.

After the disbandment and separation, Zombie continued on his solo journey. He has gone on to release six studio albums, with a seventh on the way in March 2021, titled The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy. A multitude of hits—eight to be exact—sat within the Top 10 of the Billboard 200 records.

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Zombie’s extensive film career is a “Super Beast” on its own.

He has been very vocal about gaining inspiration from 1920s-1980s horror culture. In many interviews, he’s cited Stan Lee, Bella Lugosi, Alice Cooper, and Steven Speilberg as being responsible for molding the brain that we know today.

Some of his influences include:

George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (1978)

A Clockwork Orange (1971)

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920)

The Shining (1980)

Zombie’s upbringing in the carnival industry alongside his family is another key influence.

[[I’ll only be focusing on Zombie’s live-action films here.]]

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In 2000, Rob made his directorial and (very memorable) screen debut with House Of 1000 Corpses.

It took three years to be released because of quarrels with major production companies regarding the film’s majorly aggressive themes of torture, blood, violence, sex—not to mention his arrogance with MGM, fighting to get rights back from Universal. Eventually, Lionsgate bit the bullet, albeit with the major stipulation of having Rob edit it down much further so House could pass with a “tame” R rating.

[[House of 1000 Corpses: Rainn Wilson as taxidermy merman (Source: Tumblr—and if you’re brave, you can view the scene here.)]]

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In 2005 and 2019, the franchise’s next two installments—Devil’s Rejects and 3 From Hell—were released. The franchise is heavily influenced by the shocking, sickening, and unforgettable ’70s classic Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It follows a family of psychotic, sadistic, and bloodthirsty (if I’m being honest) necrophiliacs. They kidnap, kill, torture and brutalize anyone who gets in their way. At the end of Devil’s Rejects, they somehow manage to survive a police shootout, escape prison, and waltz on into Mexico (as seen in the franchise finale 3 from Hell).

Look, it’s all complicated.

Main Characters from the franchise:

Captain Spaulding—Sid Haig

Baby Firefly—Sheri Moon Zombie

Otis B. Driftwood—Bill Moseley

Momma Firefly—Karen Black (recast as Leslie Easterbrook after Karen’s passing)

(Other notable appearances throughout: Chris Hardwick, Rainn Wilson, Danny Trejo, Dee Wallace, Ken Foree, and Diamond Dallas Page.)

⁽“ʰᵒᵘˢᵉˢ ᵗʳⁱˡᵒᵍʸ”, ᵈᵛᵈ ˢᵉᵗ﹔ ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹔ ᵗᵃʳᵍᵉᵗ.ᶜᵒᵐ⁾

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The notorious/controversial Halloween (John Carpenter, 1978) remakes from 2007 and 2009.

(ᵃ ᵛⁱᵉʷ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒˣ ᵃʳᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ⁽ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹕ ᵃᵐᵃᶻᵒⁿ⁾)

Look, this is a remake that you either adore or hate with a burning passion. If you’re a horror fanatic, you know what’s up with the original.

I personally adore Zombie’s take. The fact alone that he gave us an entire background story as to why Michael became the psychotic slasher that we’ve come to know and love. Plus, with an increased suspense and gore factor? Worked incredibly well and did justice (in my opinion).

The film made me feel bad for Michael, with moments of child Myers in therapy, particularly his love for making masks to pass the time while he was locked up and the touching family moments between him and his mother Deborah (Sheri Moon).

ᵈᵉᵇᵒʳᵃʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐⁱᶜʰᵃᵉˡ ᵐᵉʸᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿ ʲᵃⁱˡ ᵗʰᵉʳᵃᵖʸ. ⁽ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿᶜᵃᵖ, ʰᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵉⁿ. ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹕ ᵍᵒᵒᵍˡᵉ⁾

[Michael’s cell in the 2007 Halloween remake. (Source: Google)]

Add in the supporting cast of Michael McDowell (Loomis), Brad Douriff (Sheriff Leigh), Scout Taylor-Compton (Laurie Strode), etc., and I honestly think that it came together very well as a remake.

The films rated relatively low, but they did gross higher than the budgets that they originally had to film on. Again, I’m not going to give much attention to the higher-ups of critical perception—it all comes down to personal taste.

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“Lords of Salem” (2013)

[[Promotional art for Lords of Salem. (Souce: Google Images)]]

A film that’s centered within Salem, Massachusetts,

this film—you guessed it—tackles witches, occultism, possession, Satan, and all the usual topics. Heidi (Sherri Moon) is a radio DJ who gets sent a mysterious record that’s labeled as being from “The Lords.” From then on out, shit gets a little dicey and admittedly, very disjointed. You can’t fault the cast here, and I loved the visuals that they were going for. However, with set schedule conflicts and multiple rewrites, which led to essentially running out of time to film? As a whole, what looked great on paper just couldn’t be done justice.

My FAVORITE sequence within the film (SPOILERS):

youtube

I can forgive the disjointedness solely because of how mind-boggling and brilliant the film’s history and proper visuals were. Also, we got to see Dee Wallace, Judy Geeson, and Patricia Quinn as creepy and badass witches who moonlight as Heidi’s landlords. Also Meg Foster who leads their coven? Can we talk about what a femme-fueled power cast that is?!

[[Left to right: Patricia Quinn as Megan, Dee Wallace as Sonny, and Judy Geeson as Lacy Doyle. (Screencap, Lords of Salem. Source: Google) ]]

[[Meg Foster as coven leader Margaret Morgan. (Screencap, Lords of Salem. Source; google)]]

Like I said prior, the film gets a little wild. If you’re...well, buzzed prior to watching, it may make a little more sense.

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“31” (2016)

[[Film poster for 31 (Source: Google)]]

[Synopsis from IMDB; “Five carnival workers are kidnapped and held hostage in an abandoned, hellish compound where they are forced to participate in a violent game, the goal of which is to survive twelve hours against a gang of sadistic clowns.”]

Here, we clearly see that Zombie is invoking his childhood growing up within carnivals. In a 2013 interview with LA Weekly, Zombie divulged more about it:

“When we were kids, my parents would [work at the carnivals], and me and my brother would get dragged along to these things all the time and have to work.”

He went further on to say;

“Yeah, and it's not the nicest world. As a kid, you get exposed to the crazier underworld of the carnival. Me and my brother, when we were very little, we'd be inside the haunted house playing all day. So, already, what people are paying money to be scared [of], we're just playing in because it's fun. We saw the inner workings behind the machines.”

youtube

(”31″ trailer, source; Youtube)

Once again in this film, Zombie brings a powerhouse cast:

Jeff Daniel Phillips as Roscoe Pepper

Meg Foster as Venus Virgo

Malcom McDowell as Father Murder

Judy Geeson as Sister Dragon

Richard Brake as Doom Head

You can view the entire cast at IMDB here.

Set in 1976, Zombie stays true to his nods. Again, depending on taste, this is a huge hit or a wild miss with mindless homicidal violence, campiness, and climbs across the monkey bar of standards that we’re used to seeing from him.

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So at this point, you’re probably wondering why I think that it’s time for Rob Zombie to step out of the confinements of his own box...

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It’s no secret that Zombie sticks to only a small group of tropes:

Slashers, families or groups of homicidals that lack remorse, the occult, etc. There’s no shame in sticking to what you know. Hell, Zombie has seemingly cracked the code over the past two decades that he’s been in the film industry that so many directors still don’t seem to get.

IMO, despite whatever you personally feel about the films mentioned above- I feel like we’re living a freaky groundhog day repeat within Zombie’s filmography.

══════════════════

Now, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? Look, I’m not saying that Zombie has to change anything. However, I would love to see him tackle some other nuances that we’ve already seen from him in small doses.

- Children: We haven’t seen Zombie exactly take on what horror films depict kids as. Sure, he made a breakout and impeccable choice with young Michael Myers (Daeg Faerch) back in 2007. I personally would adore to see a reimagined (NOT remade) Children of the Corn on acid, one we all know Zombie can tackle and turn every existing view on its head.

- Witchcraft, The Occult, Satan, Voodoo: Zombie genuinely had a phenomenal concept (on paper) for 2012’s Lords of Salem. It was unfortunate that they ran out of resources and ran into unfortunate circumstances on set while filming.

The film wasn’t a total tank, though, given how inspiring and insane all the visuals were throughout the 1 hr, 41min film. I am absolutely positive that, given a full-force opportunity, Rob could rectify the mess that was out of his control. We completely saw that he provided visuals that left quite the impression, and he could take those taboo subjects by the goat horns.

- Animals (not the human form): It’s no secret that Rob and his wife Sherri are ethical vegetarians. It would be so tongue and cheek to see them take on such topics as animals getting their revenge, or even vegetarians torturing carnivores. This twist on the formula would make for an interesting viewing.

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2.) In regard to time periods,

Zombie stays within—and pays homage to—the 1970s and 1980s quite a bit. Obviously, those are the eras that Zombie personally loves the most when it comes to filmmaking. However, it would be very interesting to see him take on current day settings.

Zombie has such a unique viewpoint. Given changing climates in politics, human decline/growth, the economy, etc., he would do work that could easily put Ryan Murphy to shame.

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3.) He could also do with some different casting every now and then.

Let me preface this by saying that I adore every repeat casting choice that Zombie has made for his films.

Of course chemistry is a huge thing, and sticking to his friends is a very smart choice. However, he also has the potential to make new stars, boosting the power of those that may be under the radar. He can support those new stars with cameos from classic actors that we haven’t seen in awhile. I can’t begin to even fictionally cast those who fit the bill, but I do believe that with the “Zombie Touch,” he can bring so much more fresh air to the usual casting.

══════════════════

There’s no doubting what Rob Zombie is clearly very good at. Despite mixed reviews from the horror world and critics, it’s time that his fans open their eyes to new possibilities. Of course, there are die-hards, but digging your feet in further doesn’t allow the growth of horror and its ever evolving themes.

[[ʳᵒᵇ ᶻᵒᵐᵇⁱᵉ, ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹔ ᵍᵒᵒᵍˡᵉ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉˢ]]

This theory has been on my mind for a very long time—since 3 from Hell came out. I’m sure, in his usual fashion, we won’t be seeing any new films from Rob anytime soon (what with his new album set to release in March 2021, not to mention the toll that the pandemic has had on Hollywood.)

Still, it never hurts to challenge the set standards and ways.

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

Text

Do you sit on the couch or the floor? I’d definitely choose the couch over the floor.

How many different colleges have you gone to? Two-- a community college and a UC. How much stress can you handle? It doesn’t take much at all before I get overwhelmed.

What is something you have to do before you go to sleep every night? I like to listen to ASMR.

How confident are you in achieving your dreams? Sigh. I’m a mess. I don’t even really have any dreams I want to achieve right now. I don’t have the motivation or the energy. I don’t have any confidence in myself. I really need to get my shit together.

What is one thing you thought you’d never do but have done or are doing? I didn’t think I’d end up like this. I didn’t have a definite plan with what I wanted to do after college, but I can assure you this wasn’t it.

Have you ever disowned a friend or family member for their beliefs? No.

At what point in your life do you think you will be truly happy? I don’t know. :(

Do you ever make pictures or shapes out of the markings in the ceiling? I did that as a kid sometimes.

Do you ever feel like your life is too boring or predictable? It most definitely is.

Do you really think money will buy your, or anyone else’s, happiness? It can certainly help. I think it could bring some happiness, like happy moments and things that bring joy, but it wouldn’t cure my depression and the other stuff I’m dealing with. It wouldn’t just go away. At the end of the day, I’d still be left with those things. The thoughts and feelings would still be there. Those feelings and thoughts hit me in the middle of doing something I like or if I’m having a good time now and I don’t see that changing if I became financially better off.

Is shopping a form of therapy for you? No.

Do you have to take medication for any mental illness? I’m not currently taking anything for it.

Do you believe it is possible for someone to change? Yes, of course.

What is your favorite food to snack on when watching t.v.? I’m not a big snacker, but lately I have been into sourdough bread and spinach and artichoke dip.

Do you like looking at pictures? Yeah.

Have you ever set 2 people up and it actually worked out? It did for a little while.

Are you good at persuading? Uhh. Depends.

How do you feel about tattoos and piercings? I’m not super into them for myself, but I think they can be cool.

Do you care what people think? Yes and no. Not as much as I used to. I wish it was because I’m now this happy and confident person, but no.

How many dirty looks have you received today? None.

If a loved one who’d died showed up at your door, what would you do? Uh, I’d be scared and freaked out to say the least and extremely confused. I honestly don’t know what I would do or say. I think it’d be a roller coaster of emotions. If it really were them then I’d be overwhelmed and cry and want to hug them and talk to them and omg I’d be a mess. It would feel so surreal. I’d also have a lot of questions.

Do you believe the dead can have connections with the living? I like to believe they give us little signs.

How many times have you looked at a picture and wished you were there? Many times.

And your name is? Stephanie.

How do you like your coffee? With flavored creamer or cream and sugar.

Do you have a job? If so, what do you do? No.

If unemployed, what do you do to keep yourself busy? My days consist of rest, social media, TV, YouTube, Tumblr, reading, playing Animal Crossing, surveys, and spending time with family.

Top 3 favorite foods, go: Wingstop’s garlic parm and lemon pepper boneless wings, ramen, and breakfast sandwiches.

What does the person who texted you last mean to you? My mom means everything to me.

How do you feel about polyamory? Not something I would be okay with.

When did you last have sex? Was it good? Never.

Which apps on your phone do you use the most? YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, TikTok, and Kindle.

Do you go through phases when it comes to music genres, or are you pretty consistent in what you listen to? I’m consistent.

Does death scare you? Yes.

If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be? I’d have good health, mentally and physically.

Which family member do you get along with the most? My mom and brother..

Do you like horror movies? Why or why not? Yesss.

Do you play video games? If so, what are some of your favorites? I’ve been playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons for the past year.

How often do you eat fast food? Quite often.

Do you like sushi? Nooo.

Would you ever be able to become a vegan? No.

How often do you drink alcohol? I don’t. I haven’t drank going on 8 years now.

What was your favorite toy as a child? I was obsessed with Barbies.

Who was your first best friend? What is your favorite memory of/with them? Are you two still friends? These two girls, Crystal and Starr, in preschool. I remember they came to my birthday party at Chuck E Cheese; that was fun. No, we lost touch after preschool.

If you could see anyone in concert, living or dead, who would it be? I wish I could have seen Linkin Park with Chester. :(

If you were to get married, would you rather have a big extravagant wedding or a small private affair? Explain your answer. I don’t plan on getting married. I really just don’t see it in the cards for me.

Do you want kids? Why or why not? No.

How did you meet your newest friend? I don’t have any friends.

Have you ever watched the show Teen Mom? What did you think about it? Yeah, I watch Teen Mom OG and Teen Mom 2.

Are you old enough to remember MySpace? Yeah, of course. I’m old.

Where is the boy you want most? There isn’t one.

Where will you be 2 hours from now? Right here.

How old is the last person you kissed? He just turned 30.

Who was the last person of the opposite sex to text you? My brother.

Can you make yourself sneeze? No. Tilting my head back and looking at a bright light doesn’t seem to work for me.

What is your current mood? Blah.

What are you doing tomorrow? Same stuff, different day.

Who was the last person to sleep in your bed besides yourself? I’m the only one.

Do you think you would make a good boyfriend/girlfriend? Not at this time, no.

Where were you at 9am this morning? I was in bed, asleep.

Whose bedroom were you in last? I’m in mine. Do you think you’ll be a good mother/father? I don’t want to have kids.

Do you talk to the person you like everyday? I’m not interested in anyone right now.

Do you have trouble deleting your text messages? I’ve never had a reason to delete them.

Is there something that you haven’t told anyone that you actually would like to tell someone? Ehhhh.

Would you rather rent or buy movies? I like watching them through a streaming service.

What is the best part of your own body? Nothing.

Would you rather watch a full season of American Idol, or So You Think You Can Dance? American Idol, I guess.

Do you like to take walks? No.

Have you ever gone anywhere for spring break? Yeah, my former best friend and I took a few small trips.

Do you worry a lot? Yeppp.

Would you rather have big or small dogs? Medium dog.

Do you mind being cold? I much prefer it to being hot. I like wrapping up in a blanket or lounging around in a sweatshirt or drinking a warm drink.

What is your favorite sports drink? I don’t drink any sports drinks.

Do you keep a diary or journal (offline or online)? This is it.

What is your favorite candy? White chocolate.

Do you document everything in pictures? Not everything, but I do like taking pictures of things I want to remember and having those memories.

Have you ever waited for something for so long and then had it snatched from right underneath you when it seemed so close to grasp? Yes.

Choose one: being able to teleport yourself anywhere in the world at any given time or being able to fly? Teleport, hands down.

Do you feel more comfortable in public wearing jeans or sweatpants? I’m a leggings gal.

What is something that most people wouldn’t know about you from simply looking at you? I take surveys. <<< Ha, true.

Do you fear growing older? Yes.

Have you ever been called a tease? Yes and I was like wtf? I wasn’t the one leading them on or playing with their emotions like they were.

Is there something that reminds you of someone every time you see or hear it? Yeah, many things like that with different people.

Do you trust all of your friends? I don’t have any friends.

Does The X-Files theme song give you the goosebumps? It did when I was a kid.

Have you ever taken the batteries out of a Ferbie only to have it come alive in the middle of the night? Omg, that did happen once! Those things were freaky.

Don't you find those black cat clocks with the moving eyes and tail just a little creepy? lol yeah they kinda are.

When things get bad, are you more likely to blame yourself or somebody else? Myself.

Are most of your friends' biological parents married or divorced? Do you remember those commercials that scared kids into not playing around railroad tracks? No?

Do you ever wish your life was a sitcom, just so all your problems could be solved in thirty minutes? That would be nice.

Have you ever noticed how different everybody's 1st, 2nd, and 3rd bases are? I feel like it’s the same general idea.

Do you tend to set yourself up for disappointment? I’m always expecting the worst case scenarios, so.

Would you ever call a guy back and say, "Oh, sorry. I was taking a hot shower"? No.

Who do you get most of relationship advice from: guys or girls? I used to get it from both. Although, oddly, I was the one people came to for relationship more often and I had none.

Have you ever put your all into someone and got nothing back? Yes.

Do you think that you, personally, have been more shaped by experiences or by people? Experiences.

Do people ever make fun of your religion or lack thereof? Not to me, personally, but yes people do make fun of Christianity.

Have you ever put the television on mute and tried dubbing in new dialogue? No.

Do you say/do things a lot for shock effect? No.

If you were in an iPod commercial, what would you want your background color to be? They don’t make those commercials anymore, but rose gold.

What was the last compliment you gave a guy? I don't know.

Do you usually follow your head, instincts, or heart more? They all play a role, it just depends. I suppose my emotions do probably play a bigger role.

Where do you spend most of your waking time at home? In my room.

Does your jaw ever crack, pop, or lock? It pops sometimes.

With just your life, are you more optimistic, realistic, or pessimistic? Definitely pessimistic.

Is it hard for you to ask for help? Yes.

Have you ever thought of how you would give your kids "the talk"? No. I don’t want to have kids.

Do you ever feel like you're missing out on something? Yeah, life.

Is your high school ANYTHING like the ones in the movies? My high school experience was nothing like that, but I feared it would be going in. Movies never paint high school in a good light.

Are you going to be totally screwed if pigs start flying tomorrow? I don’t recall ever really saying I’d do something if pigs fly or anything like that. I don’t think...

Have you ever finished taking a shower and realize that there are no dry towels? I always grab a towel beforehand.

Do you love listening to sad piano solos? Sometimes.

Was one of your grandpas in a war? My paternal grandpa was.

Did you ever actually try to find the end of a rainbow? As a kid, I’m sure.

Are you afraid of jinxing things? Sometimes.

Do you ever write/draw on windows that are fogged up? I did that as a kid.

If you were married, and your spouse's parents became ill, would you let them move into your home? I’m very close with my family so I would certainly understand and would want to do what we could to help.

Have you screamed in a pillow before? For sure.

If a guy put his jacket on a puddle for you, would you actually walk on it or just look at him like he was crazy? lol aww I would be like you really didn’t have to do that now your jacket is all wet and dirty. We can just go around. I’m in a wheelchair, so that wouldn’t do much good anyway lol.

Would any of your friends dress up like a cow for a free chicken sandwich from Chikfila?

What do you like more, acoustic or electric? Acoustic.

Have you ever ordered something off a commercial on television? Nope.

What do you notice more, somebody's eyes or smile? Smile.

Did you actually have a cookie jar? We did when I was little.

Have you ever put on a shirt that came straight out of the dryer? Yessss. I love that.

Sometimes, does it feel like your life isn't going anywhere? That’s exactly how I’ve felt these past few years.

You've reach a fork in the road, do you go left or right? Hm. Right.

Do you ignore people when you're mad/upset with them? Not flat out ignore, but I become distant and short. I don’t initiate conversation with them.

What's worse, having someone mad or disappointed in you? Disappointed, definitely.

Have you ever gotten up early the next morning to do homework or study? Yes, but I usually just stayed up late and finished instead. I didn’t want to risk waking up late or running out of time and stressing about it.

Do you still consider Pluto a planet? I always still include it.

Right now, are you at a high, leveled, or low point? “And I’m at an all time low low low low low low low....”

When things go from bad to worse, have you ever been afraid of what kind of person you would be when it was all over? These past few years have made be become someone I absolutely do not want to be. :/

Do you honestly believe that good things come to those who wait? It can for some. Sometimes it seems like people are really just handed stuff with minimal to no effort, but generally speaking you have to work at it. I don’t think you can just sit around waiting, you have to get up and do it. And that’s something I need to do. I go on about how each year nothing changes and I’m worried about wasting away and doing nothing with my life, but I am doing anything to try and change that? Am I taking any steps?

What do you bite on more, your tongue, lip, or nails? I’m always biting my lips. I pick at my nails constantly, but I don’t bite them.

Have you ever wanted to fast forward your life so you could see if it was worth it? Sometimes, but I’d be afraid to actually do that if given the chance.

Do you think that knowing when and how you're going to die would ruin your life? I really don’t want to know.

Did you ever feel bad for Tom and Sylvester? Jerry and Tweety did often tease and provoke. You can’t help but feel kinda bad for Tom and Sylvester sometimes.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 5 years

Text

A Year Without - Part Two

Warnings: Mention of alleged killings and rape

The back of your skull was throbbing as you slowly became aware of your surroundings. Your hands immobile outstretched and your feet anchored to the floor. By the soft tug of rope against your wrists you had been tied not shackled. A small silver lining to the shit show that was no doubt about to happen. The light was turned down low thankfully, you didn’t know if you could handle anything brighter then what the lights were set at right now.

Testing the strength of your bonds you found them cinch tighter as you struggled. If you worked them too much they would cut off the circulation to your hands and feet, not good. Your mind began to catch up with the rest of your body and the last moments you remembered were blurry at best. Karai had talked about her fun and a reunion. Then like a bolt of lightning it hit you, the green skin and enormous physique of the blurry mass converging on you. It couldn’t be Leonardo, he wouldn’t be helping the foot, wouldn’t be serving Karai. You had to have been hallucinating from the tranquilizer dart you were dosed with.

After what seemed like hours the lights in the room finally snapped on illuminating your prison. The walls were stark white, with one obvious large two way mirror near the door to your left.A hefty arm less grey upholstered chair sat in the far left corner of the room and a large metal table in the center, fucking cozy. The size of the room was rather large, maybe twenty feet by twenty feet and the smell reminded you of a hospital, sterile but sour.

“It’s rude to leave your guest waiting!” you hollered dryly to your captures eyeing the window with contempt. It was true, you had been sitting in this awful room for at least two hours unattended, let’s get this show on the road.

The sound of the handle turning gave way to your host as she sauntered into the space like she was the queen of fucking England. Her hips swung with gusto and her smile was honey sweet. No longer in her kunoichi garb Karai was dressed in dark sapphire skirt that hit just below her knees with a slit on the side that rode up nearly to her cunt. Her white quarter sleeve blouse was partially unbuttoned leaving her small yet perky breasts visible from the low V. The long black tresses of her hair were tied loosely up above her head while the black high heels that adorned her feet clicked sinfully on the cement floor as she made her way over to you. The cherry on top that completed her arrogant demeanor was a blue lollipop stuck playfully in her mouth and a large tablet in her right hand.

“Calm down my sweet, I wanted you fully awake for this next part.” Karai cooed stepping up to you her breasts pressing up against yours. Her breath was sweet from her treat and she leaned in close, “I have something I want you to watch.” Her wet sugary tongue darted out and took a quick lick of your cheek and jumped back as you tried to head butt the offending woman.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

“Tsk, tsk, what a dirty mouth you have. I have a gift for you Y/N, a gift of knowledge that only I can give you. Knowledge you’ve been searching for, for a year’s time.”

Your defiance slammed to a halt as Karai’s wicked smile grew to a terrifying level. Popping the treat make in her mouth her slender fingers drummed on the tablet as she leaned in again her lips brushing up against your ear. “Have you been searching for someone, someone special? Someone who went missing abruptly a year ago today?”

Your blood ran cold, she was talking about Leonardo. The foot has had Leo all this time. Anger bubbled quickly to the surface your limbs trembling as it consumed you. You were going to rip her fucking face off. “Where is he?! Where are you keeping Leonardo?!”

“How long did you look for him?” she ignored your question stepping back turning on the tablet. Her fingers flew over the smooth surface searching for something. “How far did you search, the island of Manhattan, New Jersey perhaps? Maine? Either way it wasn’t going to be far enough, after we subdued him, which took quite a few of my men I might add. God he is strong and talented, by the gods is he talented.” You didn’t like the dreamy look in her eyes. “We didn’t keep him here, oh no, we didn’t want you to find him, what fun would that have been? So, the first thing we did was sedate big bad Leonardo and tossed him on a plane to Japan. He was sent to a very special facility where we house some of our most exceptional doctors and people we have acquired over the years with special gifts, gifts of persuasion if you know what I mean? Let me tell you, he was a hard nut to crack. But we knew this from the start so a process had to be started and it began with sociological warfare when poor ol Leo came too.”

Karai flipped the tablet to show you what she had been searching for, a security tape and the main focal point was Leonardo. His battered green body was shackled to the wall covered in blood. You could see the damage they had done to him on the roof. Cuts and gouges littered his once lustrous green skin making your rage boil hotter. His person was stripped of all his belongings except his boxer briefs leaving him unprotected and vulnerable. He was obviously sans his mask with a long deep cut that ran up the back of his skull. He struggled yanking at his metal restraints demanding to know where he was being held and to be released but he was going nowhere.

A man in a grey suit slowly approached the leader in blue and held out a picture. You watched Leo’s eyes widen in shock and shake his head vigorously, “No!” he bellowed. “You’re lying!”

“They’re all dead Leonardo. When they came to save you they were slaughtered by Karai’s men one by one. The orange one, Michelangelo I believe his name was, fell first, he was the easiest to kill, a dagger to the throat was his end. I heard he begged for his life before Karai stomped on his neck effectively finishing him off. The purple, Donatello, was second; a katana between his shell angled up through his ribs did him in. A painful way to go if you ask me drowning in his own blood. Oh how I would have loved to have gotten a hold of his brilliant mind for study. Raphael the red brute was the most difficult to kill, took nearly 20 men to get him to the ground where they slit his throat. You should have heard him gurgle and grunt as he struggled to take his last breath. Your father was the easiest to find once we hacked Donatello’s computer system. It gave us a map right to his location and was slaughtered right in his bed.”

You couldn’t be 100% sure of what the man in grey was showing Leonardo but you were pretty sure it was a photo shopped picture of his dead brothers and father. But you knew it was a lie; all three of his brothers including Splinter were alive and well no doubt oblivious to your disappearance. But the photo must have been convincing enough, even through the poor video feed you could see the tears well up in his blue eyes. You wanted to call out to him, to tell him not to listen but that would be stupid and useless, just like you were feeling right now.

Leo shook his head angrily blinking away the tears the threatened to spill. “No, you couldn’t have. My brothers are well trained and able to defeat your inadequate soldiers. Always have and always will.”

The doctor smiled and flipped another photo forward and the look on Leo’s face made your heart wretch inside your chest. “Your girlfriend was next, of course not before the men had some fun with her. You know when she cums she made the most beautiful sounds, like an angel. She cried out for you of course, but you weren’t there to save her. What a hero you turned out to be, couldn’t save your brothers or your love. Her end was swift if that pleases you, you can tell by the angle of her neck, quick and painless yet effective. Now you’re alone in this facility with no family and no lover. No one to save you, no one who cares.”

Karai’s finger came up and paused the video with Leo mid scream, his face contorted in horror and fury in the last frame.

“Luckily we have a very good photo shop artist on hand that created several rather convincing death photos of all of you. It took a few days but as his body weakened from the lack of food and water he gave in to the plausible story. He was inconsolable for over a month hanging listless from his confines. We let that sink in before we started in on the physical torture.” Karai turned the tablet back around ignoring the horrified look on your face. “He cried out your name for several days after that. It was heart wrenching really, and I took pleasure in each agonizing syllable he cried out.” Her green eyes rose to meet yours and her free hand reached out wiping away the tears that were staining your cheeks.

“I’m going to kill you.” You whispered with venom uncaring that the wretched woman had her hands on you. At this point you didn’t care; you had already killed her three times in your head.

“Oh I would love to see you try my dear.” Karai giggled returning her attention back to the tablet. A few more finger swipes and she turned it back around pressing play once again. The date on the time stamp said it was a month after his abduction, his eyes hollow and uncaring still hanging from his shackles. You could tell he had lost weight, in mass and in muscle. They must not been feeding him much.

Three men came into view all holding tazer sticks, their smiles wild with amusement. The first touched the hot end to the exposed side of Leo’s body between his plastron and carapace but Leo only shifted in his shackles groaning softly. Angered by the lack of his response, the other two men followed suit going in tandem shocking different parts of his skin. This time Leo arched crying out in pain. Over and over they attacked him all at once, Leo’s howls of anguish echoing in the empty room.

You wished the video didn’t have sound; the unnatural bellow of his agony would haunt you for however long they allowed you to live. The sight of his body recoiling from the current made you sick to your stomach. He had been here for a year enduring this torture, day in and day out. You weren’t there to help him, none of you were. He suffered alone with these animals, these heartless demons.

Again Karai stopped the feed and dropped the tablet back to her side and chomped down on the lollipop in her mouth finishing it off quickly. “You get the idea right? We put him through hell and broke him; we broke the legendary Leonardo; the man with the plan, the untouchable mutant. He was ours to mold, to retrain as we sought fit. It took longer than we expected, he was strong willed but no one can resist the charm of Dr. Langston for long. But Leo does hold the record for withstanding his treatments the longest. Dr. Langston was impressed to say the least.” The kunoichi laughed swinging away from you to walk back over to the door and knock twice. “He’s an obedient foot soldier now, and my favorite if I might add. But I’ll let you be the judge of that.” As the last words fell from her cherry red lips the door opened slowly.

Out of the darkened doorway he came, each step he took was of power and arrogance. Gone was his usual wear, replaced with jet black pants and specially made foot wear. Wide black leather wraps encompassed his thick forearms traveling up to intertwine with his three fingered hands. His blue katanas given to him by his father were absent replaced by two loosely hung red twin katana tied to his hip. Each shoulder had metal plates over them stamped with the Foot’s emblem and to complete the sinister look a black mask was worn where the blue once laid.

“Leonardo please don’t be rude, please go greet our new guest.”

As he closed in you saw his once brilliant cerulean blue eyes dulled to a grayish blue, the life once aflame in his stare was gone. There was no honor in his gaze as he looked you over like a piece of meat. No empathy and certainly no love for you. What had they done to him?

The last video you were forced to endure Leo looked frail and broken but that look was long gone. His muscle mass had returned leaving him looking toned and threatening. With each move of his body the muscle flexed and pulsed under his scaled skin making your body start to ache. If you had seen him in any other circumstance you would have though he looked good, good enough to eat.

“Leo?” you called tentatively tugging slightly on your bonds. Would he remember you at all?

As he neared you could tell the change in his smell. The hint of tea and incense was long gone overpowered by the stench of death and steel. His dull eyes narrowed in on you getting too close for comfort. His hand reached up cupping your chin tilting your head to and fro examining your face before his lips parted gifting you with the first sweet sound of his voice in a year.

“What a pretty little toy you’ve got Karai. Is she one of the reasons I was summoned to this country?”

The sound of Karai’s heals echoed throughout the room as she crossed over to the both of you. Her hands ran seductively down the dense muscles in his arms and pressed her lips to the tattoo there.

“Yes my love, she is a gift to you from me. This sweet little creature stole the other three of your kind from our master brainwashing them. And if she knows what’s good for her, she will tell us where they hide. But first I think it would be prudent to play with your gift. After all what good is a toy if you can’t play with it?”

“What do you think we should do first?” Leo clipped sinisterly squeezing your chin painfully tight in his massive grasp.

Karai’s ivory hand snaked up and around his thick neck tilting his head towards hers, “This one will lie and tell you that you once loved her, but let’s show her who you really belong too.” Her fingers twirled around the tails of his black mask and Leo leaned into her, his mouth slanted enthusiastically over hers. She immediately opened her mouth giving his tongue access making a show of it leaving you helpless to watch the love of your life kiss another woman.

Part One

@southernblossoms @blossom-skies @imthegreenfairy88

#tmnt #tmnt leonardo #foot leo #a year without #part two

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thisyearingaming · 4 years

Text

2011 - This Year in Gaming

Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective - Nintendo DS, January 11th

A quirky adventure game where you are fucking dead, and you gotta work out who killed you. Ghost Trick is like Ace Attorney at first glance - it looks similar, and is made by effectively the same development team. Give it a shot on iOS.

Dead Space 2 - Multiplatform, January 25th

Dead Space 2 was the undisputed king of alien horror until Alien: Isolation released. Yeah, you battle massive acid-spitting aliens, but it’s the necromorph babies you’re gonna be shit-scared of. It isn’t quite as unique as it’s predecessor, but it’s definitely much better to play. Bring your brown pants.

The Nintendo 3DS Releases - March 27th

The 3DS was like magic when you first fired the 3D slider all the way up - then it became a gimmick you never used again. Releasing with a few decent launch titles and being able to boast Street Fighter IV as playable, the 3DS arguably didn’t really pick up much steam until a few months after launch. While more powerful than the original DS which was six years old at the time, I can’t remember being particularly interested in it at the time.

Portal 2 - Multiplatform, April 19th

Valve’s final single player experience until their jump into VR was a bloody good one - very funny and amusingly written with the best Steve Merchant performance since The Ricky Gervais Show, Portal 2′s puzzle solving adventure is rarely a chore to play through, and has thousands of custom maps courtesy of the Steam community.

L.A. Noire - Multiplatform, May 17th

Rockstar’s foray into adventure games has stood the test of time as an enjoyable and often startling journey nto the seedy underbelly of 1947 Los Angeles - as Cole Phelps you’ll threaten a Jewish man with the gas chamber, arrest a paedophile instead of a clearly guilty father, quote Hamlet to a prop skull at the scene of a car crash, destroy thousands of dollars of property, and yell at a child whose mother’s just been murdered. Great fun!

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The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings - Windows

CDPR hit it out of the park with a fantastically improved sequel to 2007′s Eurojank diamond in the rough The Witcher, and really introduce Geralt of Rivia to more people for the first time with this game. A branching story that sees Geralt hunting Letho, the killer of King Foltest, and allying either with smelly hippy elven leader Iorveth and his terrorists who don’t appear in the sequel or the very cool but quite racist Vernon Roche and his special forces group, who are supporting characters in the sequel.

Alice: Madness Returns - Multiplatform, June 14th

A surprisingly charming, unsettling dive into the fractured psyche of the Victorian equivalent of an actual goth gf, Alice is a sequel to American McGee’s Alice from 2000. Surreal as fuck and absolutely drowning in atmosphere. Just don’t look at any of the YouTube comments on videos of the soundtrack. Rather bizarre show...

Duke Nukem Forever - Multiplatform, June 14th

Sometimes it’s best NOT to bet on the Duke. I bought this game to kick ass and chew bubblegum, and I did neither - DNF is fucking boring, and I blame it ALL on Randy Pitchford’s devotion to ruining things I like. DNF could’ve been brilliant - either embrace your heritage like Doom Eternal would eventually do, or make it into a “last hurrah” kind of thing where Duke realises he’s getting old and can’t kick ass forever. The greatest disappointment of the 2010s so far - but worse would follow with it. The King is dead - hail to the King, baby.

Deus Ex: Human Revolution - Multiplatform, August 23rd

The piss-tinted prequel to 2000′s excellent conspiracy RPG Deus Ex, Human Revolution is like smashing Robo-Cop into a world where Detroit is not a humanitarian disaster zone. Adam Jensen, the gravelly-voiced biomechanically enhanced security chief of David Sarif, is dragged into a world of American conspiracies involving FEMA death camps, the government enforcing martial law in US cities and massive Chinese conglomerates plotting to control the world. Just like real life! DXHR is my favourite in the series for its design, atmosphere and narrative.

Dead Island - Multiplatform, September 6th

Eh. Wasn’t that good. Notable for having the most misleading fucking trailer since Metal Gear Solid 2, but nowhere near as fulfilling upon release. An open world zombie survival game with a focus on melee weapons more fragile than your granny’s second hip. Oh great, now there’s a dead kid on my page. Thanks, Techland!

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Driver: San Francisco - Multiplatform, September 6th

A game you literally can’t buy anymore, DSF was incredible to play when it came out and has only really gotten better with time. It’s still so unique for a driving game that I’m surprised Ubisoft have had the good sense to just leave it and not go pants-on-head retarded with the franchise since. Nick Robinson had to buy Subway gift cards just to purchase this game.

Batman: Arkham City - Multiplatform, October 18th

Arkham City was so cool at launch and it still is today. A proper Batman epic with twists, turns, and the most addictive combat arena for years. This whole thing is gold from start to finish, except for the Harley Quinn DLC. I can’t even go into detail about it here, but I fucking LOVE this game.

Sonic Generations - Multiplatform, November 1st

Sonic Generations is the best Sonic game since 3 & Knuckles, but has now unfortunately convinced Sega that not only do people despise the Adventure games, they also really want to see Classic Sonic and Green Hill EVERY GODDAMN DAY. Generations is like a proper celebration of Sonic’s history, even including stuff from every reviewer’s favourite punching bag Sonic 2006 - I really like Generations and it has a stellar modding scene on PC.

Uncharted 3: Drake’s Deception - Sony PlayStation 3, November 1st

The “finale” of the Uncharted series until Naughty Dog decided it wasn’t. Uncharted 3 may not be as tight as Among Thieves, but it’s just as enjoyable. As quipping invincible action hero Nathan Drake, you’ll ruin historical artifacts and “incapacitate” about 4000 guys in your quest to find Iram of the Pillars, chased by Cruella de Ville and her mercenary squad of a million faceless Englishmen.

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 - Multiplatform, November 8th

God I was so excited for this. World War 3 never looked cooler, and then it came out - and it wasn’t that good. It didn’t feel as epic as MW2, not as well-written as MW, and not as interesting as World at War and Black Ops. Multiplayer was... fine? I think this is the point where most people realised that Call of Duty was basically downhill from here.

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim - Multiplatform, November 11th

See this paragraph? You can read it. Another installment in Bethesda’s cross-franchise “Little Lies” series, Skyrim has been released more times than China’s created a pandemic. But it’s still really good and when you rub it the right way it comes all over your screen like a particularly excited storyteller, ready to point in the direction of adventure.

Super Mario 3D Land - Nintendo 3DS, November 13th

Yeah this was the point I decided I wanted a 3DS. It looked incredible and so fluid, and it really was! Playing this was great fun. That’s really all there is - I can’t be funny about it, nor overly critical. What do you want from me?

Assassin’s Creed: Revelations - Multiplatform, November 15th

I didn’t like this when it came out - I thought the new graphic style was bad, Constantinople was dull, and the music was too different. Ezio was angrier, older, and the complete lack of any supporting cast from Brotherhood had me thinking this was a game that nobody wanted to work on - but now that I’m older, I can see this for how good it really was. Revelations blends the Ezio and Altair stories together, culminating in a satisfying emotional climax.

Saints Row: The Third - Multiplatform, November 15

This video speaks for itself.

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Minecraft - Windows, November 18th

There’s something beautiful about those early builds of Minecraft. Quiet, unassuming, and riddled with potential for exploration. I could talk for hours about the first time I was thrown into Mojang’s survival experience, about how I still get a bit weepy hearing Wet Hands by C418, about how shit-scared I still am of the mines and caves. Minecraft is immortal, and always will be.

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buckybabybaby · 5 years

Text

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 9)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 2089

Chapter summary: The summer fête is upon you! And Bucky returns again.

Warnings: a little bit mpre angst...

Previous: Chapter 8

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

The day of the fête dawns bright and breezy. Perfect conditions, you couldn't really ask for more given the time of year, but that doesn’t stop the scowl forming on your face as you make the short walk to school. Going in to work on a Saturday always feels somewhat wrong, and that uneasy feeling is multiplied ten times knowing who's going to be there.

It's been a tough week, hiding how you actually feel about Bucky returning when the children are besides themselves, excited to welcome back such a star. Everyone remembers how inseparable the two of you were when he worked here, and as far as they know, nothings changed, so there's been a few awkward conversations in the past days where you've not known if your fake excitement has been believable. Only Peggy knows the truth. Edwin has his suspicions, you know, after witnessing your less than enthusiastic reactions to the prospect of your supposed best friend visiting, and he'd patted your hand gently when you'd slumped next to him in the staff room one lunchtime.

“Coming back home helps people realise what they've missed,” He'd said cryptically, leaving you to your sandwiches. A tiny flicker of hope had flared at his words, one you'd quickly push down. Edwin hadn't heard Bucky that day, didn't know how vicious he'd been, or the cruel look in his eye as he'd broken your heart. Your colleagues kindness is appreciated, but at this point there doesn't seem any chance of saving what you had.

*****

Reaching the school, you breathe evenly to keep yourself calm. Somebody’s got hold of a cardboard cut-out of Bucky's character, whatever his name may be, and it's currently resting in the entrance hall alongside the crates of bric-a-brac and sweets for the tombola stand you're tending.

Just looking at his picture makes you feel sick. It doesn't help that his face has almost the same look on it as last time you saw him, that piercing glower sending a shiver through you. From what you've overheard the programme he's in is a sort of comedy drama, based around comic book characters, which explains his metal arm and combat gear, and the dramatic, side on pose, that you would have teased him about in better times.

Peggy brushes past you, breaking your staring match with the two dimensional image of Bucky as she grabs a box. You also pick one up, following her out to the table where a Year Three is carefully arranging the prizes on your stall. It takes a while to organise all the items neatly, and you get so sucked into a conversation with your little helper, Edwin's oldest daughter, Isabella, that you nearly forget why you were dreading this day.

A laugh, so recognisable, floats across the playground in your direction and you drop the saucer you're holding. Thankfully it doesn't shatter, and you turn your head subtly to look over, breath hitching as you catch sight of him, flanked by the head teacher and too many students to count. Isabella clearly wishes to join them, and you let her go, needing a little time alone to process his presence.

Your hands are visibly trembling. If you thought you felt ill earlier it's nothing compared to now, you haven’t prepared yourself to actually be within eyesight of Bucky again, and you sag, taking a seat before your legs give out. Peggy passes by, spots the source of your terror, and squeezes your shoulder comfortingly.

“I'm okay.” You smile through your lie, staring over at the growing group of children wanting attention from Hollywood's newest heartthrob. Bucky runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tick of his you remember well, and you notice that the length of his waves is much shorter than in all the promotional pictures and videos.

“I didn't even spot that. Must be a wig.” Peggy muses, thinking along the same line as you. “Why don't you ask?” She looks at you expectantly, remaining confident that you and Bucky can sort out your differences.

Glaring, you choose not to reply. You're still annoyed at her for letting this come to be, even though you know it's not her fault. Realising you're not in the mood to hear her thoughts, she part ways silently to attend to her own duties, leaving you alone to spy on Bucky from a distance.

He appears to be being as friendly and patience with the children as he always was. Watching him smile as they congregate around his feet, he looks so far away from the man who caused you so much pain just a couple of weeks ago.

The student given the honour of showing him around starts to lead him towards your side of the field and you panic and do the one thing you can, slipping off your chair and under your stall, pulling the billowing tablecloth back in front of your body. Keeping quiet, you wait in the shadows feeling like a coward. The group roams by the cave you've made for yourself, and you breathe again, reassured that he's going to be busy officially opening the fête in a couple of minutes. Taking a second to make sure he's long gone, the last thing you expect is anyone to find you.

“Why are you hiding?”

Jumping in shock, you hit your head on the bottom of the table as you're greeted by the face of Isabella again. She's observing you with a slight frown, crouching down to sit opposite you. Rubbing the sore spot at the top of your head, you think of how to excuse your strange behaviour.

“Is it because Mr Barnes is someone else's best friend now?” She asks bluntly before you have a chance to explain yourself. “Or was he mean to you?”

You laugh in surprise, shaking your head at her forwardness. She's spot on somehow, and then you remember meeting her mother and it's obvious where she gets it from.

“He wasn't mean to me. Look.” Shoving a postcard in your face, you take it from her. It's the same picture of the two characters that has been everywhere for the last month, this one scribbled across with a black pen, a rushed copy of Bucky's signature. Not the one he uses for official paperwork, you can see, rather just the first half in a fancier script, and with a smiley face at the end.

The sight brings a lump to your throat.

“That's lovely, Isabella.”

“We always thought you'd get married to him,” She whispers conspiratorially.

Biting your tongue to stop yourself swearing in front of a seven year old, and a pupil, you struggle to find the right thing to say.

“Oh really. And who's 'we'?”

“Everyone. Even Daddy.”

Blinking, stunned, you diffuse the situation quickly, rising from under the table and brushing yourself down as you help her up too.

“I've just had an idea. Wouldn't your parents like to see your signed poster? Look, there they are,” You point her in their direction, “Why don't you go show them?”

She skips off happily and you rest your weight on the edge of the table, overwhelmed. How you were unaware of everyone's gossip about your relationship with Bucky, you don't know, and it must be bad if even the younger children are involved.

Pressing your fingers into your temple, you sigh, longing for this day to be done with.

There's a shuffling in the deserted vegetable patch at the back of your stand, probably another teacher taking a break from the mayhem of the day, and you pay them no mind until they come to a stop behind you.

“Y/N.”

Closing your eyes, you don't need to turn around to know who it is. The universe just doesn't want to give you a break today. When you continue to face away from him, he squeezes between your tent and the next until he's standing directly in front of you.

“Hello.” Bucky offers you a small smile and you gawk at his nerve.

What is he trying to achieve here? Hasn't he hurt you enough? There's nothing you want to say to him, not here, not like this, so controlling your expression you coolly meet his gaze.

“James.”

He winces at the name. You haven't called him that for years, he only allows close friends and family to address him as Bucky, and it became apparent you'd be one of his closest very early on.

Despite your attitude, he pushes on. “Can I talk to you?”

“I think you've done quite enough talking,” You mutter under your breath. He hears, evident from the shock flashing over his face, and you feel a jolt of spiteful joy at the way he takes half a step back.

There's currently no one looking to buy a ticket for your tombola, which you use to your advantage. “Got to get a drink, sorry!” You call over your shoulder, keeping up the pretence of still being on good terms, for the sake of the students.

Bucky moves to pursue you with a desperate cry of your name that you ignore, escaping as he's once again mobbed by his new fans.

*****

Later, as you pack up your stall, it's apparent Bucky doesn't want to talk to you that urgently, as there's no sign of him now the crowds have gone. You don't know if you feel relieved or disappointed. You'd sent Isabella back to her father, mostly to let her enjoy her weekend, but also because you don't think you'd survive another round of her questioning. For a seven year old, she is remarkably perceptive, and her age means she still lacks the social graces to know when to stop.

You've made quite a bit from your sales, the amount in the cash tin picks your mood up, and as a treat for surviving being in the same location as Bucky you buy the biggest cake you can from the catering stand. Today has been exhausting and you crave a little solitude to unwind.

*****

That night, you can't sleep again. The winds picked up during the evening, throwing branches from the small tree in the front garden against your bedroom window, but that's not the sole reason you're awake. Your mind hasn't stopped racing since your interaction with Bucky. Why did he have to come back and confuse your feelings further? Your head hurts, and not from the bump earlier, the swirling emotions preventing you from relaxing enough to get any rest.

Admitting defeat, you sit up and stare at the wall. The clock on your bedside table reads two forty seven, and you decide that that is an excellent time to go for a walk down the lane. Sliding your feet into the easiest shoes you can, your gardening wellies, you pull on your coat and pick up your keys, quietly opening and relocking your front door as you embrace the fresh air. Wandering with no particular destination in mind, you find yourself pausing in front of the school. The pass-code is entered into the side gate before you can really think about it, and you slowly crunch along the gravel path up to the adventure play area.

That's when you see them. Your blood runs cold as you freeze, cursing yourself for not bringing your phone with you, the figure sitting on the swings resembling something out of those horror movies you've always avoided. Assessing your surroundings, you consider the option of blending into the bushes nearby until the stranger has left.

Then they move and you nearly cry in relief that it's not a serial killer out to get stupid teachers breaking into school in the middle of the night. There's no mistaking that hair, even in the artificial orange glow of the street lights, and your heart rate remains at the same frantic pace as a new fear over takes you.

You could walk away, pretend you haven't seen him, and just get on with your life knowing you won't have to talk him ever again if you wish. Or you could confront him, and maybe get some answers to your many questions. The second options wins, even though the thought of your warm, safe bed, that doesn't hate you, is very tempting, you know you won't feel right until you've had it out with him.

Pulling your coat tighter around your front, shaking not just from the cold, you approach Bucky, preparing yourself for a conversation you probably won't like.

*****

A/n: Bucky answers for his behaviour next chapter, promise!

Chapter 10

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #buckybabybaby #Mr Hollywood

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bensboynton · 5 years

Text

Good Enough b.h; Part 1

Requested: no

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: swearing, unedited.

“Will I ever be good enough for anyone?”

“You’ve been good enough for me since the beginning.”

In which a singer tries her hand at acting, and ends up with a lot more than she bargained for.

A/N: this is my first attempt at a longer fic, forgive me if anything is inaccurate/grammar mistakes/mistakes in general it’s 1 am and i haven’t slept in the past 28 hours and i just wanted to get this up. – “You got the part.”

“What? Wait, is this a joke? Are you serious right now?” your lungs didn’t seem nearly big enough, as you desperately gasped for air. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I’m completely serious! You landed the role. You’re Mary Austin. How does it feel to be able to say that? You’re Mary fucking Austin.”

Your heart was pounding in the chest as you were on the phone with your manager, Anthony. This was it. This was your big break in the industry. You just landed the role of the woman who stole Freddie Mercury’s heart.

You had been wildly successful in the music industry for almost five years, as you were about twenty-two shows away from finishing your second world tour for your sophomore album. And while writing music, performing said music, wrapping your tongue around unfamiliar languages and your mind around foreign cultures satisfied you, you always yearned for more. And that’s what led you to acting.

At first, it was an idea you had late at night. “What if I started to act?” But you shot the idea down yourself. You convinced yourself it’d be a distraction. Your manager would never say yes, it’d be too much work for you to handle, you wouldn’t be good at it. Not to mention the extra stress that would’ve been added to your already quite strained schedule. And on top of that, most singers never made it in the acting industry. But once the seed of this idea was planted in your brain, it began to grow. It soon became all you could think about. So, after a few extremely long phone calls with your manager and a few meetings in the city, you managed to set up your first audition. And the rest is history.

At first, you did a few commercials for some popular brands. Some advertising videos, skits for Facebook and Instagram, a few small parts in tv shows and smaller movies here and there, but nothing too major. However, when you heard a murmur through the grapevine about the part of Mary Austin in a biopic about Queen? For a lack of a better way to describe your emotions, you just about shit your pants.

Queen has been one of your favorite bands your entire life(thanks to your father), and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Freddie Mercury and Queen were your heroes. Freddie was the main reason you decided to start writing music, and that beautiful man made you fall in love with the art of performance. You took inspiration from him in almost every single aspect of your life. You couldn’t just let an opportunity like this pass you by.

You had submitted an audition tape to the producers one day after a particularly tiring show in Belgium, following a two-week crash course with a dialect coach practicing your British accent. You quickly ran through a few lines of the emotionally extensive script, submitting your video a few moments later. And about four days following the submission of your video, you got a phone call from your manager telling you that you did, indeed, land the part. And you were ecstatic. You were even more elated when you received a similar phone call informing you who got the part of Freddie Mercury; one of your good friends, Rami Malek. You screeched so loud one of the people in the hotel room next to yours came over to ask if you were all right. But you were far better than just “all right.”

You had met Rami backstage before an interview you did with him on Jimmy Fallon’s show, and you two exchanged phone numbers and the rest was history. The both of you were best friends for a while; practically inseparable. The both of you were hanging out at least every other day before distance slowly caused you to drift apart. But a gap between you wouldn’t really be any interference since you’d be working on this movie together. Problem solved.

And so, after a few headaches and way, way too many phone calls(all of which were extremely unnecessary to you), you rearranged the final three shows of your tour to leave you right smack dab in the middle of London, right where you needed to be to begin filming this movie. Everything was beginning to fall into place. – You slowly stretched your arms up over your head, arching your back and cracking your neck. Today. Today was the day you finally got to begin shooting Bohemian Rhapsody.

You had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity. When you heard the news of your success at landing the role as Mary, time started to pass by as if it was in slow motion, and days started to drag on as you waited for shooting to begin. You could only reread the script so many times before it became so mind-numbing it made you sick to even look at it.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck, you looked at yourself in the hotel mirror. The bags under your eyes were slightly apparent, and you made a note in your head to try and cover them up before leaving your room and checking out.

You grabbed your cellphone and unplugged it from its charger, typing in your passcode and pressing your boyfriend’s contact. The phone rang for a while, but no answer. Your heart sunk slightly at the sound of his voicemail.

“Hey, Y/BF/N. Just wanted to call and say hey before I head to set. I hope your tour is going well, I love you and can’t wait to see you. Talk to you later.”

You sighed gently as you hit the circular “end call” button and set your phone down. No more time for being sad over the strange lack of contact with your significant other. You had a movie to film.

You checked over your room quickly, just to be sure you had packed everything. After all, having all of your clothes would be imperative for the lengthy stay in your new trailer.

Hearing the news that you got to live in your very own trailer while on set was weirdly exciting for you. It felt like a rite of passage, almost like it validated your acting career in an odd way.

Wheeling your two extremely full suitcases behind you, and your backpack sitting gracefully on your shoulders, you slowly but surely made your way to the lobby of the hotel you were staying in. You swiftly checked yourself out and made your way to the notably empty parking lot. Made sense that it would be empty. After all, it was almost 5 am in London.

A black SUV was awaiting you near the doors, ready to take you to your new home for the next few months. Saying you were excited was an understatement.

Making small talk with your chauffeur for the morning, Todd, you admired his thick British accent. You appreciated his unique pronunciation of the words you knew and the few pieces of British slang that were unfamiliar to your remarkably American brain. Hopefully you’d start picking up on those sooner or later. You pretended to be mildly interested in Todd’s ranting about his three children as you lazily twisted your hair around your index finger, head rested against the tinted window. But to be honest, your mind was elsewhere.

You began nervously biting at your already extremely bitten nails as you neared closer and closer to the filming location, thoughts beginning to race through your mind. What if the cast didn’t like you? What if you embarrassed yourself? What if you suddenly forgot all your lines? What if you were so bad at acting they fired you on the spot?

Your worrying was cut short as the short and stout driver with grey stubble pulls onto a gravel road, pulling up to a security gate. He rolls down the window and tells the woman standing in the tiny concrete building to the left of the car something about dropping you off, but you aren’t paying much attention. You’re too busy watching the busy hustle and bustle up ahead, of tons of people with jobs and places to be and things to do. It seems as if everyone is running out of time, due to the quick pace that they’re all walking. The driver pulls up to an average sized building with two very heavy duty black doors.

“I’ll drop you off here, and then I’ll run your bags to your trailer if that’s all right with you Miss Y/L/N.” Todd’s voice snaps you back to reality. “Yes, that sounds great. Thank you, Todd.” he nods as you slowly clamber out of the car, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and walking into the building. You can feel your heart beginning to speed up its rhythm in your chest.

You walk up to the shiny black desk in front of you, about to ask the friendly looking receptionist where you’re needed before an enthusiastic voice echoes through the lobby.

“Y/N!” you turn around to see none other than Rami Malek standing before you. You grin as you run straight into him, your chin resting on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his neck. You pull away as he gives you a quick peck on the cheek. “Long time no see, ay?” you hum, looking at the familiar man as he grins and looks down at his shoes. You admire the small crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Oh, how you missed him.

“You know, I almost cried when I heard you got the part.” He spoke with an eloquence unmatched by anyone you had ever met before. His voice sent shivers down your spine. “And why was that?” you inquired, as he slowly brought his eyes back up to meet yours.

“Because I knew I couldn’t do it with anybody else. It needed to be you. I just had this feeling, you know? And with our friendship, I knew our chemistry would be good. I was just really excited.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, as you tucked a piece of your soft hair behind your ear. It was strange, with Rami. You hadn’t heard from him in months, yet the conversation flowed with ease, almost as if you last talked two days ago.

“You should’ve heard me when I found out you were Freddie.” Rami cocked an eyebrow at your statement as he offers his left arm. You accept his invitation, interlocking your right arm with his as you start walking alongside him, “I was screaming bloody murder. The hotel sent someone from the front desk up to check on me,” Rami let out a loud chuckle, shaking his head as he glanced at you, a twinkle in his bulbous orbs.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel something for Rami when you first met him. I mean, who could blame you? A fashion-conscious, well spoken, educated man? In this economy? A rare occurrence, at best. You started to fall for him when your friendship was at its peak, but it just doesn’t feel the same now. Besides, you now have a loving boyfriend, and Rami has an absolutely beautiful girlfriend. No need to “mingle” with any of your castmates.

You continued your walk down a particularly long hallway with locked arms in silence. But, it was a comfortable silence. That was your favorite thing about Rami. No matter what, he always made you feel at ease. You finally reached a certain door that Rami stopped at, taking a deep breath and looking at you.

“Ready to meet the rest of the band?” you nodded quickly, trying to gather yourself to make the best first impression you could. It was almost as if Rami could sense your nerves.

He gave your arm a comforting squeeze, a slight grin causing the left corner of his mouth to curve upwards into a smile. As you said, he was always able to calm you down. He pushed the door open, and it was almost as if the sound erupting from the tiny room slapped you across the face. Rami grinned at you sheepishly, an apology already bubbling at his lips before you walked swiftly into the room.

“Guys, can you all shut your traps for two goddamn seconds and meet Y/N?” Rami’s voice carried, and suddenly the volume level in the room decreased dramatically. Three unfamiliar eyes were suddenly trained on you, and you sent them a nervous smile, tucking your long hair behind your ear, twisting it around your index finger. This was something you tended to do when you were nervous.

A particularly tall man started walking toward you, a big smile on his elongated face. You imagined him with a mop of curly hair, and immediately knew that this must be the man playing none other than Brian May.

“You must be Gwilym, right?” you smiled, reaching out to shake his abnormally large hand, “I’m Y/N.”

“Amazing to finally meet you, Y/N. Rami has told us loads about you.” you smiled up at him, as you were about 6 inches shorter than his towering figure. He made small talk with you, asking about your flight to London and if you had any trouble arriving on set.

“Oh. My. God. It’s you. It’s really you. I’m in a room with THE Y/N. Wow. I might pass out. Am I dreaming?” a man with curly hair joked, his thick sarcasm lacing his words as he turned to the man next to him. “Pinch me. Wake me up from this dream. It’s too good to be true.” you laughed, shaking your head as you looked up to meet his eyes as he started walking towards you. You curled your finger around a strand of hair as the stranger walked towards you.

“And you must be Joe!” you held out your hand, only to be engulfed in the slightly taller man’s arms. “You’re my new best friend, and best friends don’t shake hands. We hug.”

And although Joe was joking, you clung to his words for a few seconds. It warmed your heart to think that he was already so accepting of you. “This is my other best friend, Allen. Sorry new bestie, you’re going to have to share me. I have a lot of best friends. But there’s plenty of this,” he points at himself, “to go around. I promise.” you giggled, lightly hitting his forearm with the back of your hand. It’s actually quite insane how comfortable you felt around him already, despite you knowing him personally for approximately a minute and a half. You looked up, swiftly scanning the room to look for the final member of the main cast you haven’t had a chance to meet yet. Gwil must’ve seen you look around because he did the same thing. “Has Anyone seen Ben recently? Or did he sneak off for a smoke again?”

“He left about ten minutes ago. Either taking a really, really, nice shit or went to smoke. I’ll let your beautiful minds decide what you want to believe,” Joe’s comment left the entire room laughing lightly under their breath as they returned back to whatever they were doing before you had walked in.

You had been sitting on the couch for about twenty minutes, talking to Joe and answering his many questions about your childhood, career, upcoming music, college and, strangely, what movie you would choose if you could only watch one for the rest of your life. You saw how he could potentially come off as nosy to a high-strung individual, but to you, he was just curious and always had a desire to learn more. You admired that about him, as you were very similar.

The door of the tiny room opened, and a man with fluffy, slightly untidy blonde hair briskly strolls into the room, slipping off the brown leather jacket snugly hugging his muscular shoulders. Your eyes followed him for a split second and it took everything in you to tear your eyes away from the Greek God that just waltzed into the room.

“There he is! My boyfriend. I missed you SO much.” Joe grasped his chest, motioning at the man to walk over. The mysterious man shook his head and let out a soft laugh, his head down as he typed furiously into his phone. You stood up quickly, smoothing out the front of your shirt. Joe gestured to you, and his eyes swept over you quickly, causing a small bout of butterflies to swarm through your empty stomach. You swore your heart was beating so loud, everyone in the room could hear it echoing in your chest.

“You must be Ben. It’s really nice to meet you, I’m-” you began to introduce yourself to the unreasonably attractive man, holding your hand out before he interrupts you. “Y/N.”

“Y-Yeah that’s me.”

The way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine. It caught you off guard. His green orbs that glimmered with a tinge of blue slowly met yours, and he smiled sheepishly, before breaking the eye contact and dropping your hand. There was an awkward silence that fell between the two of you, even amidst the chatter of the room. Ben opened his mouth like he was about say something, before a familiar voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Hey hey hey, let’s not get too comfortable over there. That’s my boyfriend. Back off Y/N!” Joe spoke from across the room, sarcastic anger dripping from his mocking words. Ben rolled his eyes, mouthing a “sorry” to you before walking away from you, aimlessly making his way to the other side of the room.

You were left alone, and you rubbed the back of your neck with your right hand. It wasn’t normally like you to act so awkward and secluded around someone, especially someone you didn’t know.

But, nevertheless, you could finally check one thing off your list of worries. The cast was absolutely amazing. Now all you needed to stress about was actually filming the movie.

But little did you know, that would soon become the very least of your worries.

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theexistentiallyqueer · 5 years

Note

Sorry to bother, but where do autistic and adhd brains overlap? Because both are neurodivergent (and beautiful, I agree) But how can I find out which behaviour belongs more to me being autistic (got diagnosed this year) and which is adhd? (No Matter What Deadline, after several years in hostile environment (failed university, then call center work) I panic. Hard.) How do I disentangle adhd and autism to find out what strategies to use to function better?

Please don’t feel like you’re being a bother, because you’re not! Honestly the fact that someone is coming to me to ask ADHD questions makes me teary-eyed, because I’ve fought so hard to learn to function with ADHD that people Asking Me Things like I’m a trusted expert just makes my heart grow three sizes, the opposite of the Grinch.

I’m probably not the best person to ask about how ADHD and autism overlap specifically, especially if you’re taking this from an autistic POV. And I’m also not a behavioral expert, which is a very strong preface. But I can (and am very happy to) talk a bit about my experiences with ADHD and how I’ve learned to make things work for my brain.

I’m going to put this under a cut, if that’s okay with you, anon. It got kind of long and I don’t want to overrun anyone’s dash. And you can always, always ask me ADHD questions, and I’ll try my best to answer.

My ADHD tends to manifest specifically in the following ways:

Extreme hyperfixation that has its own varying degrees (e.g., I’m really into Fire Emblem: Three Houses, but I have so lack of interest in Byleth/Claude that my lack of interest feels like an actual void)

An inability to process feelings regarding things other people care strongly about that I don’t. If we’re using the same fandom example: I could rant forever about how Byleth/Edelgard gives me ALL THE FEELS, but if I friend I care about started to talk about Byleth/Claude, I would immediately lose all interest in the conversation and struggle to react in a way that doesn’t present me as a selfish monster who doesn’t care about the person I’m talking to.

I tend to monopolize conversation if I’m given the opportunity because I LOVE getting the chance to talk about my hyperfixations. If someone cuts me off when I’m really into a topic, I get incredibly irritated and have to try to restrain from myself from acting petty in response. The number of times I have smiled my mouth is a knife and said, “ANYWAY, as I WAS SAYING…” is beyond count.

I don’t recognize or remember people until I have something meaningful to associate them with. I also don’t tend to notice things that don’t clock themselves as Important in my brain. I usually describe this as “background furniture.” Even PEOPLE become background furniture. A girl I work with mentioned a person on her team had quit, and I’d literally walked by that person’s desk earlier that day and didn’t notice it was empty, because that person and the entire space they occupied was background scenery.

If something affects or touches me personally, it hits me Very Personally. I had a complete fucking breakdown watching the video of Philando Castille’s shooting, because I heard his daughter crying while she watched him getting shot and went down onto a spiral of personal loss over my own father to gun violence and started to immediately correlate the two. Separating ADHD brainness from my whiteness is complex and hard and (said sarcastically) so, so much fun.

The direct inverse of that are things like: I’m talking to my mom, who’s telling me about a high school friend of hers just got into a horrific vehicle accident and is in the ICU. My mom then goes on to give me regular status updates on this woman I don’t know. I get out of work, and she talks about this woman’s surgery. I get out of work, and she talks about this woman’s family’s attempt to find an adequate rehab center. They find a rehab center, and my mom shows me how her friend decorated her daughter’s room. My mom shows me a video of the girl working with a physical therapist, who gets her to push herself upright with a walker and take her tentative steps. “Awesome!” my brain thinks. “Great!” my brain thinks. All of it spans over several days, weeks, months. I have nothing to do with this constant influx of information. I don’t know how my brain should file it. I don’t know this woman who was injured. I feel for her in theory because no one should ever have to go through that even though so many people do, but I haven’t ACTIVELY PRETEND like I personally am invested in the situation or else my mother gives me Concerned Eyes because I seem to be In A Bad Mood Today.

When it comes to organization, I tend to lean towards hyper-organization rather than hypo-organization. By which I mean I over-organize to combat the fact that ADHD often results in disorganization, and disorganization results in chaos, and chaos gives me COMPLETE PANIC ATTACKS. At work at one point, I had my emails auto-tagging every incoming email based on the email type, on top of tagging for my clients. Every label had a different color, and it all made sense to me, because I’d made it. When my team had cover my stuff on a day I was out, my inbox was such a horror show that it left them feeling drained and distressed.

Let’s talk about socialization! I have a rocky relationship with my childhood best friend. When I discovered social justice in college, I started picking fights with everyone over everything Problematique. The first major fight I had with my best friend at the time was because she felt I was over-aggressive towards a mutual male friend of ours. She was probably right, because I know the kind of bullying behavior I later developed. I thought I learned from it. After the 2016 election, I messaged her on FB, thinking I had a sympathetic ear, to say that seeing her mother post constant messages of support for Trump and sharing stuff dismissing Trump’s sexual assault allegations was particularly hurtful considering I’d told my friend that my mom had been sexually assaulted.. I’m not going to share what she said, but she wasn’t in the wrong. We didn’t talk for several months after that.

Speaking of her! When she started dating the guy she’s now married to, at one point I asked her if they’d had sex yet. I asked it because I thought it was a thing you were Supposed To Talk About as friends, and also because I was, in a way, morbidly curious, because I’m grey-ace and queer. She confirmed that they had, but I still felt so icky and uncomfortable about that for so long afterwards. It was only after I started to understand that I’m not cis and not allo that I really understood why: I was forcing myself to perform what I thought female friendship was based on how it’s portrayed in media, and it’s only once I began to understand that I’m on the ace spectrum and that I’m nonbinary that I really started to understand how forced mainstream conversations of attraction are.

I’m loud! I’m loud! I’m loud! I’m loud all the time! I live with my mom and I socialize with my mom and when we’re in public spaces and I’m talking about something that interests me, she always, always, always feels like she has to shush me. What makes it ironic? If there are other people being loud around me, I can’t function. I can’t process the noise. It’s EVEN WORSE if they’re speaking in another language, because if it’s English I can process the words at least, but if it’s another language, it’s just pure, inescapable sound that I know has meaning but can’t intuit, and if I can’t understand something, that’s as bad as dying.

From what I’ve read about autism, here are ways I THINK my ADHD traits overlap with autistic traits:

I can’t read facial expressions. I think I have a better concept of emotional nuance in facial expressions than someone who’s strictly autistic, but I’ll still panic when I see a smile that isn’t bland enough. RDS (rejection-sensitive dysphoria) will kick in. They hate me, they hate me, they hate me, is the track my brain will play on repeat until I’ve drunk myself into oblivion. Whenever someone smiles, I mistrust it immediately.

Eye contact is incredibly fucking frustrating. I understand that it’s expected, but it’s SO UNCOMFORTABLE. Why do we need to stare into each other’s eyes to understand one another? How can you people write whole treatises on the sanctity of locking gazes and finding an instant intellectual bond without realizing that eye contact that’s not called for is personally invasive?

I can’t understand flirting vs not flirting to the point that I’m absolutely paranoid someone is flirting with me, at which point I usually become hostile if I think they ARE, because DON’T FLIRT WITH ME. TALK to me!

I hate, hate, hate unsolicited physical contact. If I’m in a state of over-expression, I hate it even more. I’m not physically withdrawn, because I love hugs, and cuddles, and human touch. But when I’ve spent the entire day listening to other people talk and I have to walk into a room where people continue to talk, if someone touches me, it’s fucking No-Oh-One.

Someone is interested in a thing I’m interested in. We’ll use Persona 5 as the concept, because this honestly happened recently. I talk with the guy whose desk is across from mine about Persona 5 all the time. He’s also excited about Royal. I started going into my Sophia theory that I’ve really only lobbied at @softspokensansa. I could see, I could viscerally see, the interest drain from his expression. BUT I HAVE AN IDEA SO I WILL TALK ABOUT IT ANYWAY, and then afterwards I felt incredibly resentful that I was being filtered through a cookie-cutter drain.

It’s painful–it’s really painful!–to try to talk about my spiritual ideas with other people. I have a side blog I just started and am preppy myself to share, and I’m absofuckinglutely TERRIFIED everyone is going to write me off without looking at what I have to say. IT’S THE RSD AGAIN! Nothing I ever said has actually mattered before, so why should it now?

I feel, constantly, like I’m halfway between a point of reality and a point of something. What that something is is indefinable, but regardless of it, I exist.

I’d like to direct you to two very positive youtubers I know; I meant to do this earlier, but now feels right in terms of how I’ve written: How To ADHD and Amethyst Schaber.I credit both of them in helping me find a safe place with ADHD before diagnosis. There are stories other than yours that matter.

I wish you the best, anon! If you think you’re autistic and ADHD: given the comorbidity between the two, you probably are! And ADHD is just as beautiful, complicated, and misunderstood as autism is.

If anyone reading this can speak to living as both autistic and ADHD, please respond so I can lift your voice. And to my anon: you’re beautiful completely. I hope my story has helped you in its anyway, and I hope that you find yourself at a place of peace. It’s a struggle to get there, but it’s worth it, every step of the way.

#anonymous #thanks for coming to my teq talk #gaydhd

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nano-the-robot-blog · 5 years

Text

A Vent

Hello. My name is nano (not really, of course), I’m an art student from rural Britain, and I really need a place to vent right now. I don’t know if anyone will read this, or if any of those people will know me, but at this point I don’t really care.

Since childhood, I’ve lived a very privileged life. My family aren’t well off but we get by, my father has always had a job and my mother has always looked after my brother and I. They have their flaws and we’ve had our arguments, but my parents really are amazing. However, unfortunately, that doesn’t grant me ease of passage through life - especially with the world in the state it’s in right now.

I know that I have it much better than a lot of people, and I have always known that. I tend to get things in halves. I have autism spectrum disorder, but I’m not nonverbal and most people don’t even notice. I have fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome, but I’m not wheelchair-bound. I have depression and anxiety, but I’ve never attempted suicide. I have an atypical eating disorder, not anorexia or bulimia (for those out there who do suffer with any of the things I’ve mentioned, my heart goes out to you. I may never understand your struggle but I will always strive to do the best I can to help, and I hope that you can all get through your respective hardships).

Now, as you can probably tell, I’m a very average person. Average height, average weight, average education and average skill levels. My brother, on the other hand, is a little less conventional. He has moderate to severe autism with learning difficulties which he was diagnosed with at quite a young age, and although he has yet to be diagnosed with it, my mother swears that he has pathological demand avoidance. He is also fairly tall and quite overweight, making him a formidable opponent.

These factors add up - the autistic meltdowns, the avoidance of any helpful behaviour and the refusal of commands and the sheer size of him - to make him an absolutely unbearable person to live with. He frequently attacks my family and I, both physically and verbally and with varying degrees of severity. It gets to the point, fairly often, that the police have to be called. My entire family have had to literally sit on his back in order to restrain him before, and it only gets worse once he is taken into hospital. At one point, he had four fully trained, adult police officers holding him down on a hospital bed. He’s had handcuffs, leg braces, the whole nine yards. It’s hell for everyone else in the family - and not just the humans. We have a menagerie of pets in the house as we are all animal lovers (aside from my father, though he does adore our dogs) and, though my brother doesn’t directly hurt them, the effect on them is clear. Our two dogs, one a huge Labrador/Rottweiler/Springer cross and the other a tiny Jack Russel/Pug mix, are utterly terrified every time he kicks off. They can even feel the tension in the air when we’re “walking on thin ice”, as my mother puts it, or when he’s on the edge of a meltdown. We also have three cats who don’t seem too bothered, although he has held up my cat (the oldest, and the smallest) and threatened to choke her before. I also have four beautiful young budgerigars who experienced his wrath for the very first time today, and it’s safe to say that they weren’t a fan. I’m hoping that they will be okay, though, since wild budgies will suffer much more worrying encounters in Australia.

Today, however, my brother went too far. He directed his anger towards the animals - my animals specifically - and me. My mother spent three days painting a gorgeous high sleeper bed which I only just got. I tried to help out, and I kept her company, but I’m just too sick to do such a physical task. Mom just naturally took over and eventually offered to paint the whole thing - even though she herself is ill. Like I said, my parents are amazing. The bed was a real labour of love for Mom, and she did an amazing job - despite the various hardships faced during the process. It was a real bonding experience for my mother and I, which was sorely needed as my mental health is pretty much non-existent at the moment. I’ll explain this as briefly as I can, just to give an idea of how much this affects me.

Recently, I’ve been suffering hugely with an atypical eating disorder. This possibly started when my ex broke up with me about two years ago, and very slowly built up over the past two years until recently, I stopped eating almost entirely and cut myself down to one small meal per day. The sudden change may or may not have been caused by my final major project in college, which I put my heart and soul into and which ended recently. I got the grade I wanted, but the residual stress left from it certainly took its toll, and my fate was sealed. I became more depressed than ever before and my anxiety, autism and (at the time mild) ED suffered the same way. I isolated myself from all of my friends, even my best friend - our relationship has been recovering slowly but surely from a very rough patch we had last year. I love her more than any other human, but I find it simply impossible to connect with another human being at the moment. My relationship with my parents is also hugely strained since they have to force me to eat now, and though we both know that it’s for the best, it puts a new barrier up between us. Another rather significant contributor is the fact that I have feelings for somebody I can never be with, and I’m quite sure he’s catching feeling for another girl who I’m also friends with, which simply gives me more reasons to distance myself from them. Regardless, back to the current situation.

It started small and simple, like all the worst things do. My mattress is in my parents’ room at the moment, as I can’t risk touching my paint-covered bed. My room also stinks of paint which makes it hard to sleep. My snakes are still in my room, though, as we couldn’t move them. My brother threw a cushion at me through the door. That’s all. I was lying in bed, exhausted and ill, and he threw a pillow at me. I said nothing, threw the pillow onto my parents’ bed, and went back to watching videos. A few minutes later, he threw a doorstop at me. It was heavy, and hit me in the hip, so it hurt a lot more than the cushion did. Again, I said nothing, and texted Mom to tell her what was happening. She came up the stairs pretty quickly, questioning my brother about it in a sympathetic tone. She knows him best, and is the best at diffusing situations like this. Like me, he said nothing. After a short while of her talking to him, though, he shoved past her out of his room and into hers, where I was still lying. I was hesitant to leave the bed, stupidly enough, because I wasn’t wearing trousers. However, my brother soon began threatening (nonverbally, of course) to throw his entire fifteen-pound body onto the mattress and on top of me. I wasn’t about to find out how many of my bones would be broken as I’m fragile enough already, so on request of my mother, I scurried off to the other side of my parents’ bed. He followed. I was hissed at to go into my room, which is what I did. No more than five minutes later, with me now holding a very nervous small dog, I hear a fierce BANG! and my door jumps. I’ve got an old door, one of the originals of our house, and I’ve never seen it budge before. At this point, I realised that he was going to break it down. Another few minutes passed until it happened once more, and once more was all it took. I stuck my legs out, thankfully, and caught the door on my feet, pushing it to the side. Thank goodness it somehow didn’t reach the snake tanks which were mere inches away, as they would have no doubt been shattered. We all knew it now; his anger was directed toward me and me alone. He kept advancing and my mother shooed me out of the room. I grabbed the dogs and hurried them into the utility, turned the light off and crouched down with them in the diffused light from the kitchen. He couldn’t see me, nobody could see me. We were safe. They all came downstairs fairly soon and my dad found me first. He said nothing, simply gave me a stressed look and went back into the kitchen. My mom then came out a few minutes later and informed me that my brother had backed himself onto my sofa, which is currently up against the snake tanks, and had started banging his hands on the glass. Any reptile owners well know that this is an awful situation for any reptile, especially snakes. Even just tapping on their tanks stresses them out to no end. They can stop eating for weeks, and if it’s bad enough, the poor things can even die. I did check the snakes after the whole ordeal and thankfully, they are all still alive and at least one of them is still ready to eat. My brother soon found my hiding place and started advancing again. I had nowhere left to go - my room, the only safe place, was destroyed. I just had to run upstairs and hang around for a while. I could hear him shifting furniture, and the occasional yell from one of my parents as he hit them. I know from experience that his blows are nothing to be scoffed at.

I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but somehow he ended up in my room again, but this time he turned his attention to my bed. Mom was appalled. The face she made was one of sheer horror; she had spent so much time and energy to get it to such a good condition and he had just ruined three days of work. She cried into my shoulder, weeping about the lack of consideration he has for others. I agreed, and we both muttered that we didn’t want him here any more.

That may seem harsh, to you. Who would want their own brother to leave for good? I would have agreed with you, if it weren’t for literal years of constant abuse from this boy, this monster. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute he can be a perfectly innocent child (he is 15, but his mental state is at the point where he is internally 8 or 9), and then within moments he can switch to some inhuman, unfeeling being of nothing but hate. He cannot be reasoned with, he can only be fought.

He’s gone now, they all are. Mom and him were taken to hospital in an ambulance, and my father followed shortly after. My snakes are alive, my budgies are fine and everything has gone quiet. This will happen again, and it’ll never stop until something is done - but that’s just the thing. What do we do? We’ve jumped through the hoops, we’ve waited years for people to help us and nobody will.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t want to seem like an attention seeker, but I genuinely fear that if this type of thing carries on, I’ll try to kill myself. Tonight put so much strain on my mental state, and each new episode increases that strain so much, that I don’t think it will be too long until I snap.

Sorry that this has been my first post on this blog. It was meant to be an art blog but I’m no longer going to be doing that as I’m completely rebranding myself. This will be a personal blog for me to write about my life - a kind of journal, I suppose.

All the best,

nano

#personal #vent #mental health #autism #aspergers #anxiety #depression #eating disorder #fibromyalgia #chronic fatigue syndrome #journal #negative #violence

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specialmindz · 5 years

Photo

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE!”

“*Sigh* Why...why do you do this? You know that’s not right.”

“...I’s ready to go Daddy...”

“No. No you’re not.”

“I’s ready to pay in da’ snow...”

“We’re visiting the king,” said Gaster, taking Papyrus’s boots and putting them on correctly.

He should be doing this himself.

“The king in the snow pace?”

“No.”

“He building a snowman?”

“NO.”

“alphys is sick baby bro,” said Sans opening a cabinet. “so i have to help dad work for the next few days. the king volunteered to babysit you for a while-”

“HE GONNA SIT ON DA’ BABY?!”

“no pap-”

“HE GONNA SIT ON DA’ BABY!”

“papyrus…”

“YOU GOTS TO TELL HIM I’S NOT AN EGG BIG BUTHER!”

“what...?”

“You gots to tell him I’s not an egg! The king be reeeaal tall and stuff so when he sees a tiny skelly baby such as myself, he only see mah bald widdle baby head and he probably think ‘wowie, I find-ed a tiny widdle egg on mah doorstep! I bet there be a baby chicken inside...I bedder sit on it, or is gonna get cold-”

“you’re wearing clothes bro.”

“Yeah, but he can’t sees em’ cause’ he too big...Imma draw a smiley face on my head. Where the markers be?”

“You’re not allowed to have markers.”

“Dat don’t mean I doesn’t need em’. Baby is NOT a butt-plug.”

“what’s a butt-plug?”

Gaster sighed, already exhausted. He didn’t want to bring Papyrus all the way to New Home, and he wanted to leave him there even less. King Asgore was the Underground’s only hope of escape at the moment...the only solid one at least. He was Gaster’s safety net of sorts if Sans turned out to be unable to teleport his brother past the barrier. Without the king, the royal scientist would be an even bigger nervous wreck then he was now, but no one else was willing to watch Papyrus and there was no way on earth the little troublemaker would leave them alone while they worked.

Picking up the baby bones with his wingdings so as to avoid being bitten, he looked the infant in the eye. “His Highness is very lonely Papyrus,” he said gravely. “and what’s worse is he doesn’t know the full extent of your horrendous behavior. That means he’s going to be spending a lot of time with you rather than simply leaving you to play his lost children’s video games; that being said, you need to be kind to him. If he dies, there will be no one strong enough to wield the human souls and break the barrier, understand?”

“Ooooh! Fluffy Buns gonna pay wit da’ baby?!”

“yep, so be nice to him bro. no hitting, no biting, no tearing anything up-”

“Okay, okay. I’s gonna be nice and quiet and just read books like a good bae.”

“NO BOOKS. Do you hear me? NONE. Do not read him ANY stories. He can read to you, but do NOT read to him, do I make myself clear?”

The last thing I need is an hour-long phone call from the old fool trying to find the right words to tell me how to raise my child.

Gaster got a lot of those from the queen long ago if he remembered correctly and they annoyed him to no end. Not just because she took forever to get to the point, but because she refused to even consider the possibility that HER kids were the ones that needed a talking to. In her eyes, it was always Gaster’s fault, not her precious Asriel or Chara.

Even though Papyrus spent most of his time around those two and I’M always working, it’s still somehow more likely MY influence, right.

I do wonder though, whatever happened to the old hag?

I know she abandoned her husband and the kingdom, but where exactly did she run off to?

“I can pay wit da’ snails?”

“You’ll do what he asks you to do.”

Papyrus blew a raspberry in the scientist’s direction, splattering him with drool.

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE HEE!”

“have fun baby bro, and tell me everything when you get back okay? maybe if you’re reeeeally good, the king will help you get into daycare!”

“Absolutely not,” said Gaster, placing the baby bones under his arm. “sending him to daycare is out of the question with its current management.”

“huh? why? what’s wrong with undyne’s mom?”

His father shook his head. “I know the woman who works there personally. She uses her child’s temper as a tool for suing parents who leave their children at the daycare she now runs. Whenever Undyne throws a tantrum and hurts someone there, her mother accuses the parents of child abuse, claiming that despite Undyne’s reputation, the children keep trying to play with her because their parents order them to. She has the king completely convinced that they’re getting their kids hurt on purpose so they can sue her. It’s a complete lie of course, she used to work at the lab pulling the same money-grubbing stunts until I fired her.”

And this was BEFORE the Underground was such a poverty pot.

No doubt she’ll try to use Papyrus somehow, wretched woman…

“Her husband fought and died in the war and so Asgore not only sees her as a lover of children who does everything in her power to enrich their lives, but also sympathizes with her. He sees her as a single-parent with a troubled child living in a bad economy and thinks she’s selfless and kind, when in reality she’s as greedy as they come.”

“well...she can’t go doing that forever and ever and ever though right? even if everyone’s poor, the king will eventually figure out she’s lying. he can’t believe the ENTIRE underground’s out to rob her.”

Even if everybody IS poor, he should know he’s being punked. Not EVERYONE is gonna gang up on ONE person, especially if they need that person to watch their kids.

“He’ll figure it out eventually, yes...but for now, Papyrus needs you. He’s better behaved when you’re watching him anyway; now I expect the beakers to be in place by the time I get back Sans-”

“Nyeh? Snas not gonna tellyport da’ baby?”

“nope. dad wants to make me do all the prep work and use your trip to asgore’s as an excuse.”

Gaster rolled his eyes and left the lab. There was no point in retorting, Sans would never understand how lucky he was compared to the other children in the Underground. Unlike them and himself, he wasn’t a victim of poverty and no amount of arguing on Gaster’s part would rid the boy of the entitled attitude that came with living comfortably.

Lazy ungrateful brat...he really thinks every kid sits on their ass all day while their parents work. Preposterous. Back in MY day, we used to work in mines and factories at his age and both places were messier than the Nursery. We spent most of the money we earned on medicine just so we could work more and he’s complaining about setting up a few beakers...?

“I thought Sans Serifs made up for their lack of strength with superior intellect, but clearly I was wrong. Damn that Charles Dickens and his god-awful Oliver Twist novel! If Sans hadn’t gotten ahold of that book-”

“To be, or not to be! Nyeh hee hee!”

“That’s Shakespeare.”

“I has look-ed upon all da’ universe has to hold of horror, and even the skies of spring and flowers of summer must ever afterward be poison to me.”

“And that’s Lovercraft.”

“Waz Lovecafe?”

“Dr. Seuss for adults; you know what it is, you just quoted it.”

“Is mac and cheese?”

“YOU JUST QUOTED IT.”

“Yeah, but maybe I read-ed it off the box?”

“I highly doubt any form of Kraft Mac and Cheese would put the words ‘horror’ and ‘poison’ on their box,” said Gaster tightening his grip on the baby bones. The spring platforms were dangerous in Hotland when you were carrying things. It made him (and a lot of other people he imagined) wish that the elevators were better maintained as good food was only really found at the Resort or in Snowdin. That meant people who lived in Waterfall not only had to brave the harsh climate of Hotland, but also somehow carry their groceries back home across the springboards if ever the elevators were to break down, which was often...and today.

“WHEEEEEEE! DO A FLIP DADDY!”

Despite the overpopulation problem, there just weren’t many people who knew anything about complex machinery. Some monsters knew about the compromise Asgore had made with the humans long ago, but most did not. The deal was if he worked together with them to destroy the Horrors, they would refrain from mass genocide and settle for the monster’s self-imprisonment within Mt. Ebott. The king, in his cowardice, took the agreement and kept it secret from all his people, aside from the handful of Boss monsters he needed to raise the barrier itself...Boss monsters that had to put the barrier up from the outside in order to get it to work, which resulted in their destruction. His Highness, claiming the reason for the team up was because the Horrors posed a bigger threat to the earth, was left with weak monsters of all sorts with different backgrounds. None were prepared for Mt. Ebott. They weren’t a group of scientists, engineers, or soldiers, they were simply confused citizens who were one day told to gather inside a mountain by their king before being sealed inside and fed a bunch of lies.

There’s no one left down here who knows how to fix the elevators except me now, thanks to Papyrus. Asgore’s lucky I was already in here before this place was sealed, or he’d have quite a problem.

It would’ve been nice if he could go back to what he was doing BEFORE the monster came to Mt. Ebott and began piling work on top of him. He wanted and had been studying the strange climate changes within the mountain, trying to hypothesize if the volcanic activity had anything to do with the strange weather and if the source of all magic really stemmed from the Earth’s core, or if it was just a chemical reaction; but it had been so long since he’d seen his notes, he doubted they hadn’t already been chewed up by the hellspawn under his arm. Luckily, skeletons had the lifespan of a monster, and Asgore not only knew about the lack of educated monsters in the Underground, but was doing something about it, putting emphasis on certain subjects in schools and introducing the students to daily logic puzzles so that the next generation would be more tech savvy. It would take a while, but by the time most of the children in the Underground reached adulthood, most of them would know the basics of at LEAST electrical engineering and be able to fix those damn elevators.

If Sans didn’t have one hp I’d absolutely enroll him, but I need someone to watch Papyrus and he’d most likely be killed by one of those bratty school children. He’s too shy, small, and weak to be near anyone immature...I can’t risk it. Especially when I’m so swamped with work.

“It almost makes me want to try again...make a new clone and split it in half, this time the RIGHT way...but if I make another mistake, I’ll have FOUR children...”

“Nyeh?! You’s gonna make more babies?!”

“Absolutely not.”

“I wish to have a widdle sister. Not like Snas, I mean a REAL sissy-”

“Sans is the closest thing to a girl that will ever come near you, and I can say that with the utmost confidence.”

“Undyne a girl...”

“You heard what I said.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

“Who there?”

“What?”

“Snas say, when he do dat, I’s supposed to say ‘who there.”

“...”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

“Who there?”

“Stop that.”

Opening the door, Asgore greeted the two with a warm smile. “Welcome Gaster, I’m so glad you decided to bring your little one in person rather than having Sans simply teleport him here.” He bent down until he was eye level with Papyrus. “You’re looking adorable as ever Papyrus, it’s nice to see you too! You look like you’ve gotten a bit bigger since we last saw each other, ho ho ho!”

“You too.”

“PAPYRUS! I’m so sorry your Highness-”

“Oh don’t worry about it, I’m sure he means well.”

“NYEH HEE HEE!”

Handing Papyrus to Asgore, Gaster frowned as he watched the baby bones snuggle into the king’s chest...a tactic the infant usually used to distract the people he was trying to steal from.

“Get your wingdings out of his pocket. I told you to behave yourself!”

“He’s only curious my friend! I remember when my little Chara was still alive, they used to go through everything-”

“Where all da’ monies at? You’s a king aren’t you? You’s supposed to be wich!”

“Ho ho ho, you’ve got your brother’s sense of humor I see!”

“YOU’S NOT FUNNY!”

“We’re gonna have such a fun day!”

“ERRRNNN!”

“Alright, I’m heading off. I’ll return for Papyrus as soon as you call me,” said Gaster turning to leave.

“As soon as I call you?”

“Correct. When you reach the point where you no longer wish to watch him, give me a call and I’ll pick him up. One, two days would be nice, or whenever you feel like your life is in danger-”

“NYEHHHHHHH!”

“Ah! Oh dear, it’s alright little one, I’m sure he was only joking,” said the king, bobbing the infant up and down in his arms.

“He’s not upset. He’s only crying because that’s what babies do when their parents leave for work, or in my case, to go shopping. Papyrus will do what’s expected of other babies, as long as you’re watching him, in order to convince you he’s a normal infant…despite his exceptional talents. If he gets hungry, simply leave him by himself and he’ll fetch his own food, in fact, leaving him to his own devices is probably the best thing to do in general, especially if you’re at a loss.”

“Leave him by himself? That’s madness! I know he’s not a monster Mr. Wingdings and so should thus be raised differently, but my house is built for large creatures…my cabinets may as well be closets in his eyes! What if he gets into my cleaning supplies? He could be poisoned!”

“I’s going straight for da’ soap!”

“NO you’re not. He’s not your Highness. Remember, he’s a natural born liar and unfortunately, another trait he shares with his brother is he’s very attention-seeking.”

“Is you seeking mah foot up yo’ ass? Cause’ dat’s what it sounds like douche Daddy…”

Gaster didn’t respond. He simply turned and left, leaving behind a very confused and concerned king.

“We’s gonna read a book Fluffy Buns? Daddy said I could read alllll the books I wanted while I’s here…”

“Um…s-sure…” said Asgore, carrying the Horror into the living room. He sat down into his chair and watched as the baby bones used his wingdings to grab a random book from the shelf, all the while struggling to shake the uneasy feeling that had been steadily growing within him since he picked the infant up.

He was familiar with Horrors…he had fought them in the war after all, but he had little to no experience with their children. Apparently, the majority of baby bones were supposedly more intelligent than monster babies, though it did differ with each infant and had a lot to do with their typing. Verbal Fonts, which is what Papyrus was if he recalled, were the first to learn language and so were able to hold entire conversations at a very young age; entire coherent conversations. While other children struggled with multiple lisps, Verbal Fonts would speak clearly and be careful to only alter their speech enough to sound cute and maintain the love of the adults around them.

An intelligent infant is a dangerous thing…combine that with Papyrus’s ability and my love for children in general, and I’m at even greater risk.

I must be very careful of what I say…

“So Papyrus, if I recall correctly, each time you’ve visited my home you’ve crawled straight for my children’s room to play. We’ve never really gotten to know one another, have we?”

Papyrus stopped flipping through the book. “Nyeh?”

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself little one?”

The baby bones looked at his book and then back at the king as if he were unsure of what to say. For a moment Asgore thought he wasn’t going to speak at all; perhaps talking to Papyrus like an adult wasn’t the best idea. Gaster DID say he tended to act like a regular baby in front of others…

Did I make a mistake?

“*Ahem* My name be Papyrus and I’s two years old,” said the baby bones holding up two fingers. “I enjoy cuhwering, long crawls on da’ beach, and my big Buther’s company…his peasants I mean, he not own a company.”

“Heh heh ha ha!”

“As for my own endevors, I help the Underground by selling cheap affordable drugs to junkies so they overdose and die…or I WOULD do dat, if SOMEBODY would stop cutting off my supply.”

“…”

“Dat someone be YOU Fluffy Buns…”

“…I would appreciate it if you’d get out of the drug trade Papyrus,” said Asgore averting his eyes.

“Well I would appeciate it if you’d stop fuking wit my job security, NYEH!” Papyrus threw the book he was holding onto the floor. It didn’t have any pictures, so it was basically useless.

Not something meant for babies anyway.

“Dis book suck! Where da’ pictures at Fluffy Buns? You get dis from the weird part of the library?”

“Seriously Papyrus, about your job-”

“One time I went to the library to get some books for Snas, and I found a book just like this…cept’ it wasn’t like this, it was all soft like a blankey!” exclaimed the tiny skeleton hugging his Highnesses beard.

“Papyrus.”

“Dis book was weird as hell Mr. Buns! I open it up and it had zippers and buttons in it! BUTTONS! Who puts buttons in a book? They didn’t do nothing either! I undid the zipper AND the buttons and there no pockets or nothin’. What dat spose’ to teach the baby? How that edgy-cation-al? I thought it would at LEAST have pockets with stuff in em’ but it didn’t have CWAP!” yelled the baby kicking his tiny legs.

“…”

“I talked to Dirt-Butt about dis and he said the book was a met-a-phor about life. He said is supposed to teach you that life is full of disappointment and people who look for free hand-outs deserve to BE disappointed-”

“What? No!” cried Asgore horrified. “The book you’re describing is most likely a sensory book. It’s a book that acts as a toy for-who is this ‘Dirt-Butt?’ Why would he say something like that to you?!”

What kind of-

“…I thought it was deep.” Papyrus picked the abandoned book back up. “Dis a meta-book too? What it mean?”

“It…it doesn’t mean anything. It’s a book about snails.”

“I think it mean…exercising yo’ ima-gin-ation be more important than relying on someone else’s. Dat’s why it don’t gots pictures. Is saying ‘exercise your ima-gin-ation and make yo’ own pictures. Make your own books wit pictures so OTHER peoples can enjoy them. Give back to da’ community.’ What you think Fluffy Buns?”

“I think it’s a book about snails.”

CA-CLACK!

Papyrus dropped the book again.

“…”

“I liked dat book, is easy to read.”

“You didn’t read it.”

“There was dis one meta-book I find-ed that I still can’t read dough. Is hard like dis one, made of wood, but it had weird stuffs inside dat was scratchy and rubbery and foamy and-”

“That’s another sensory book. Babies are supposed to touch the things inside the book to learn what they feel like.”

“Even the dead kitty?!”

“Dead kitty?”

What?

“There be a page inside that say ‘kitty’s are soft, feel how soft the kitty is?’ and there be fur sticking out page! I touched it and it was real fur Fluffy Buns! Someone squished a cat in a book and put it on the shelf!”

“No.”

“They squished it flat like Undyne…”

“No, also don’t talk about Undyne’s chest like that…it’s not nice.”

“Why not? She do! I ask her one time, ‘hey Fish-Lady, where your boobs be? Yo’ muder gots boobs, so where yours?’ and she go, ‘I don’t know, I think they ran away while I’s sweeping. My mama keeps hers in a hammock cage thing so they don’t get away, but she never bought me one cause’ she cheap.”

Asgore rubbed at his temples as if trying to will away a headache. He didn’t know if it was Papyrus’s seemingly boundless energy, continuous change in subject matter, or lack of listening skills, but the boss monster was feeling more and more drained as the conversation continued.

He expected a Verbal Font to be a chatterbox of sorts, but he didn’t expect it to physically affect him. It felt as if his mind were currently running a marathon whilst leaving his body behind.

Perhaps I’m just getting old, it’s not as if Asriel didn’t ask a million questions when HE was younger after all…though he wasn’t anywhere NEAR as bad as this. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised however, toddlers are one thing, but babies are quite another; they know even LESS about the world around them. Everything is new and exciting for a baby, so of course a Verbal Font like Papyrus is going to want to talk nonstop about even the smallest of occurrences.

Peeking through his fingers, the king watched Papyrus chatter on, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.

Stars above, I can only imagine how tired Mr. Wingdings must be on a regular basis. Perhaps I’ve been pushing him too hard with all these demands…as important as they are, his children should come first.

“…So I say, ‘you needs boobs Fish-Lady for your footure babies! Erybody knows muder milk be the most nutritious!’ and then she did dat thing where her eyes get real big and her voice get loud and she scream, ‘OH MY GOD! WHAT IF SOMEONE STOLE MY BOOBIES WHILE I WAS SWEEPING SO THEY COULD HAVE FREE MILK?! WE MUST CAPTURE THESE VILLAINS AND BRING THEM TO JUSTICE!”

Asgore brought his hands down. “Was this last week?”

“Nyeh? I don’t know, why?”

“Because I got a lot of complaints about Undyne last week. That’s why.”

“Then yep, probably, cause’ she and I went around asking people bout’ her boobs and she beat up lossa people. The ones who laughed. She said only bad guys laugh at the unfor-tune-ate.”

“That’s,” the king groaned pitifully. “That’s not a good reason to assault people…”

“Is good enough for her.”

“I CAN SEE THAT,” said Asgore loudly before quickly catching himself and correcting his volume. “How about I make us some tea?” Getting up, he sat the baby bones on the chair behind him and headed towards the kitchen, a tactic he often used whenever he was in an uncomfortable situation, however he didn’t miss the glare the little Horror shot him on his way there.

“Babies don’t dwink tea! Babies dwink MILK! Dat’s why Undyne’s boobies be so important! Why you no listen?”

“I’m listening…”

“No you’re not, you weave right in da’ middle of mah story!”

“You’ve told many stories already, why not take a break?”

“A bake? I don’t need no bake! I gots to pactice my font daily or I’ll be weak when I gets big!”

His Highness glanced over his shoulder, placing a full kettle of water on the stove. “I see…so these stories of yours are a way for you to practice your lying without suffering any severe long-term consequences. I suppose it’s safe to assume then that most of what you’ve said about Undyne’s…rampage, is entirely false?”

“I doesn’t remember ERYTHING she say, or the EXACT words she used, but I’s still telling the tooth. I’s a good bae, ya’ know? I help Undyne when she was feeling sad about not finding her boobies even dough I didn’t have to. I told her mah Daddy could make her some new boobs wit his science and then she was happy, all cause’ of me.”

“Your father eh? So if I call your father, he’ll tell me the same thing?”

“Yep. I aspect so. He the one who solved da’ mystery of the missing boobies too! My Daddy a hero even dough he suck.”

“Right.” The king stood in near the stove watching the kettle, he was torn between going back to the living room and hiding in the kitchen. He WANTED to keep listening to Papyrus, but he was tired and the infant’s loud high-pitched voice was becoming unbearable. He wasn’t sure how much helium Gaster was pumping into that baby’s room, but it sounded lethal, which was too bad because one of the few things Asgore took pride in was the fact that he was a much better listener than his wife. He loved her, but he was all too aware of her awful tendency to jump to conclusions before hearing an entire story and how much pain it could bring others, so he made it a point to do better. To BE better. It was almost like a secret and silent competition of sorts where he would struggle to become the prince’s favorite parent…though it was embarrassing to admit and deep down, he knew it wasn’t right.

There was even a shameful time when he went overboard and blamed her a bit for their children’s deaths, though he NEVER said anything about it verbally. As king, he had to work most of the time to maintain the Underground, especially considering the shape it was currently in, which meant TORIEL was in charge of watching the children throughout the day. He didn’t know exactly WHEN Asriel left for the human village, but there was a time when he suspected it was while his wife was supposed to be keeping an eye on them. The idea should have made angry or sad, but instead he only felt an embarrassing sense of triumph that he hated himself for.

That is, until Gaster set him straight one night at Grillby’s.

“Don’t be a fool. Your child left in the middle of the night; it was no one’s fault, much less your own, unless you make a habit out of watching your offspring sleep.”

“How can you be so sure? We don’t have cameras around our house OR the barrier.”

“Common sense. Her Highness homeschools them in the morning so it’d be impossible to leave at that time and had the prince left in the afternoon, it would have taken him hours to traverse his way down the mountain due to the unfamiliar terrain and to even FIND the village. He’d only be able to reach it by nightfall when most of the humans sleep.”

“I…I see.”

“You’ve spent most of your life in the countryside, you must know what it’s like. The small villages that dot such places usually comprise of farmers…an early to bed, early to rise type of people. There’s little to no chance that there’d be enough of them awake to swarm your son, unless he left in the middle of the night and arrived at the village in the morning. Blaming yourself is irrational behavior, as is drinking away your day at the bar.”

“Y-You’re right…thank you.”

“…Then I tell Undyne to use her cute voice cause’ my stink Daddy don’t look up from his papers, but she still scu it up. She go ‘peas mister science man, can you make me some new boobies? I needs em’ for my wife and kids.” Papyrus shook his head. “Stupid Fish-Lady, I told her she stupid too. Wives don’t need milk, BABIES need milk, but she call me a clown fish and told me to shut my cwap mouth. ‘You doesn’t know ANYTHING stupid baby! I saw my mama use milk for her coffee and big people LOVE coffee, so he gonna feel bad for mah wife and kids and give me boobs for a bargain!”

“…I’m curious as to what your father’s response was.”

“Daddy told her dat she took after her muder and to ask HER where her boobies were.”

Asgore nodded, though the baby couldn’t see him.

Ahh, the old ask-your-mother response. I remember using that many a time.

If he recalled however, it never ended well. Passing uncomfortable situations like that onto his wife proved to be...problematic, as the queen was stubborn in her ways.

“I do hope you didn’t bother that poor woman Papyrus.”

“Nyeh? Poor?” Papyrus looked confused. “She not poor! Undyne’s muder wich! I knows cause’ she gots vases with no flowers in them. I asked her why that be and she said it was none of my beeswax and to not come in her house when the door be locked…I think she sold Undyne’s boobies Mr. Buns, but I can’t proves nothing…I think dat’s what Daddy was trying to tell us.”

“I assure you, she did nothing of the sort-”

“Can I borrow yo’ boobs Fluffy? You doesn’t need them no more right? You give them to Undyne?”

“I don’t…I don’t have those things,” said Asgore, wincing as he heard the pitter patter of tiny boots headed towards the kitchen.

“You look like you do…” said the baby peeking around the corner.

“WELL I DON’T.”

“But you look like you do…hey, what chu doing?” asked Papyrus tilting his head.

Picking up the infant, Asgore began carrying the Horror towards the room he was currently renovating. “Why don’t we go play a game while the water’s boiling, hm? I’m sure you’d rather spend time playing than talking to an old man like me. I’ll even play with you! How’s that sound?”

“Annoying…”

“Ho ho ho!”

As his Highness began to set up the game counsel (something that had to be done every time his children played a game), Papyrus glanced around the room, the previous conversation forgotten. Nothing had really changed since he’d last been in here…in a sense anyway. Chara and Asriel had always been very competitive and it continuously resulted in the destruction of everything in the area except the game counsels they were using. The place itself was a mess of broken toys like the Nursery, but there were scorch marks every which way and bits of splintered wood from destroyed furniture. To his right he could see something that may have once been a table of sorts, so he imagined the princes might have been eating and gaming in the same place; a practice he THOUGHT their mother had banned long ago due to the stains on the wall from food that had no doubt been thrown in a rage after one of the children’s gaming sessions.

Despite spending so much time together, the two had personality traits that contrasted greatly with one another. Asriel was a coward and Chara wasn’t.

That being said, the little goat monster had a tendency to use underhanded tactics to win games when he saw he was losing, such as complaining to their mother about Chara killing Yoshi so he could keep his high score in Mario, or pretending to “accidently” pull his controller out of its socket so his loss wouldn’t count. It infuriated Chara, who was much more mature when gaming, and it often led to violent fights and ultimately their games being taken away for a week or so while the king and queen had the game room repaired.

As a baby that valued courage more than most, Asriel’s behavior disgusted Papyrus, but he stayed quiet about it while he was over. After all, the baby was a guest and no one was perfect. He suspected that Asriel’s parents and environment in general played a big part in feeding his friend’s cowardice, that and monster babies weren’t like skelly babies. They didn’t seem to have the natural instinct Papyrus had to try and grow up properly. They weren’t born with a sense of discipline or ambition; In fact, from what he DID see, all monster babies did was sit around and wait for others to do things for them. He knew because they didn’t change when they became toddlers or even children like Asriel. They still spent all day playing for fun and making demands instead of practicing their magic or trying to intentionally learn new things.

“They spoiled.”

“Hm?” Asgore turned from the counsel and looked around. “Yes, I suppose we did spoil our children a bit. There are times when I wonder in fact, if they’d still be alive if I had been stricter with them…made them afraid to leave the house without permission.” He chuckled and sat on the floor next to Papyrus. “Then again, children will be children and Asriel shared his mother’s stubbornness. He’d of left no matter what I threatened him with.”

Papyrus took up a Gamecube controller and glanced doubtfully at the king. “You know how to pay dis game, or is you gonna be an old person da’ whole time?”

“Excuse me? I set up the game-box didn’t I? Just because I’m old, doesn’t mean ALL technology eludes me young man!” Turning on the game, they watched through the cinematics until only the title screen SUPER SMASH BROS MELEE remained with the words “PRESS START” fading in and out at the bottom.

“…”

“…Why isn’t it starting?”

“See dat button in the middle of the controller there?”

“Which button?”

“The only one in da’ middle. The one that say ‘start.”

“This one?”

“Pess it.”

Asgore pressed the start button and they were taken to another screen with multiple choices that immediately made the infant regret keeping quiet about the choice of game.

“So this is that Super Smashing Fighters game you all love so much! Look at all these options…since I’m a ‘noob’ heh heh heh, I think I need some training…what does ‘1-P’ mean?”

“Go to ‘VS. Mode.”

“Alright…oh. Oh I see,” said Asgore as he was taken to the character screen. “Going straight to the game are we? You’re like Asriel it seems. You don’t want to give me a chance to learn how to play, you just want to win.”

“No Fluffy.”

“You wish to take advantage of my old age and lack of understanding.”

“No. We’s gonna fight as a team. Pick yo’ peoples.”

“OH! OH I KNOW THIS MONSTER! IT’S PIKACHU!”

“Pick yo’ peoples.”

“How do I pick Pikachu?”

Taking the controller from Asgore, Papyrus hovered over the yellow mouse and pressed the ‘A’ button. “You see dis button Mr. Buns? See how it gween like a stop light? Think of dis button as the ‘yes button’ If you want something you use the ‘yes button’ to get it. The red button here be the ‘no button’ if you don’t want something, you pess the ‘no button’ kay’? Cause’ red be a bad color dat means STOP like a stop sign.”

“What?”

“Use dis to pick stuff and dis to go back.”

“Oh alright.”

So as to avoid more annoyances, Papyrus went ahead and made the proper arrangements for their team battle, choosing Kirby as his character.

“Dis game needs more babies…”

“Papyrus. Papyrus look.” Asgore pressed a button on his controller. “He’s got a little hat, ho ho ho!”

“…”

“Aren’t you going to dress up your pink guy?”

“He don’t get clothes till he eat you.”

“Oh my goodness, there’s a princess in the game! Papyrus choose the princess, I bet she has nice clothes…oh no wait, be Pichu! That’s Pikachu’s baby right? We can be a family of fighters!”

“Pichu sucks.”

“But we can be father and son and-”

Papyrus quickly changed his character to Pichu and put Princess Peach and Kirby in the other two slots as their opponents. “Okay, there. I’s Pichu. We pay now?”

“Does he have any-”

The baby bones changed his costume.

“How adorable! This game is so very very cute! I don’t see why Tori had such a problem with it…maybe she didn’t know about the outfits? She had a habit of making mountains out of mole hills that woman…how do we proceed?”

Pressing ‘Start’ they made it to the stage selection screen where, thankfully, the king immediately chose the one with the giant pokeball on it, having apparently recognized the object from an old video series his children had found miraculously intact at the Dump.

As the game began, Papyrus’s annoyance faded a bit as he watched Asgore test out the controls without asking about them. He may not have known much about technology, but obviously his battle instincts transferred into the game, as he seemed to instinctively know not to distract Papyrus during the fight…that is…until he noticed their opponents where no match for the Horror.

“How do I catch you?”

“Nyeh?”

“How do I catch Pichu? Every time I throw these pokeball things at you they turn out to have someone in them already. Where are the empty ones, or how do I empty them out before catching you?”

“DON’T CATCH DA’ BABY!”

“You’ll be safe in the pokeball. It’s part of a grand strategy-”

“Dis not Pokemon! Dis MELEE! You just supposed to kill da’ pencess and the pink bae-”

“What? Killing?! This is a FIGHTING game Papyrus, we’re supposed to be JUST fighting, not killing!” His highness grumbled in frustration as the princess sent him flying into the abyss.

BOOSH!

“Is just a game Mr. Buns.”

“There are more important things in life than winning, child. Don’t-DON’T YOU PICK UP THAT HAMMER PAPYRUS! Did you not get in trouble for using such a thing in real life?!”

BOOSH!

Once again, Pikachu met his end to a frying pan.

The baby bones patted the king’s arm in an attempt to comfort the agitated monster. “Don’t be mad Fluffy, you do bedder next time!”

“What? I’m not angry! I’m not angry and that’s not the point!”

“You are. You’s mad cause’ the pencess be kicking you in your asshole.”

“She’s not-she’s not beating me, I’m letting her win because she’s a woman. It’s not good to hit women Papyrus, that’s not how a gentleman behaves!”

“Liar. She kick yo’ ass and now you’s mad.”

“I’m NOT angry. There’s nothing to be ANGRY about! This isn’t even a real GAME child! I told you I didn’t know how to play, so I need training. This game doesn’t count, it’s merely a learning experience!”

“A learning ah-sperience?”

“Quite.”

“Hm…then perhaps during dis game you can learn to be less of a bitch.”

“…”

“…What?”

“I’m calling your father.”

“Nyeh? Why? What I do?”

“You’re using naughty words and doing naughty things.”

“Ohhh, you wanna cry to my Daddy cause’ you feel embarrassed and you wants time to get good.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“You wanna send baby home so you can pactice.”

“Absolutely not!”

REEEEEEEEEE!

“Oh look, yo’ tea be done! Now you can go to da’ kitchen and peetend mah Daddy just called to check up on things!”

“PERHAPS HE WILL CALL!”

CA-THUM!

As Asgore stormed away, slamming the door behind him, Papyrus crawled over to the prince’s toy chest to scavenge for new crayons to take home with him.

It was unfortunate that Asgore and Asriel were so very much alike when it came to anything competitive, but that didn’t mean he and Papyrus couldn’t get along in general. He had had a good time talking to the king and even though he was mad, the infant wasn’t worried in the slightest. His Highness was upset, but he wouldn’t stay that way forever. Despite the fact that he was definitely going home, he knew he and the king would play again some other day and the baby was looking forward to it.

And as for Asgore himself, he decided allowing Papyrus to ingest a bit of soap wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

Merry Christmas everyone! Sorry for the wait, I had a computer error that erased ALL of my progress. Even if I did make the one month deadline, this still should have been done earlier, so I made it longer as compensation.

Also I finished another chapter of Fonttale 3, so there’s that too. I hope you all have a good holiday with your loved ones and remember to cherish them while they’re still around.

On another important note, I’ve no idea who drew this, but appreciate it’s existence. I tried looking it up through reverse image searching, but after it showed me a ton of results and I clicked on one, Norton freaked out and warned me that it had just blocked something...so if you want to know who drew this, reverse image search is NOT the way to go, otherwise you’ll risk your shit. Just thought I’d warn people who don’t have computer protection.

#Fonttale #Fonttale au #Undertale #Undertale au #Papyrus #Baby Papyrus #Gaster #Sans #kid sans #Asgore #a bit of deltarune

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broomballkraken · 5 years

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Title: The Apothecary and The Dancer, Chapter 7: Friendly Advice

Fandom: Octopath Traveler

Pairing: Alfyn/Primrose

Word count: 3091

Warnings: None

Summary: He was very good at healing physical wounds, but he was not well versed in healing emotional ones. But that would not stop him from trying, for her sake.

Mistakes were a natural part of everyone's lives. Big or small, god's know Primrose had made her fair share of both. She tried to keep herself from making too many big ones, but unfortunately, kissing Alfyn was turning out to be one of her biggest mistakes.

Sighing deeply, she took a large swig out of her fourth mug of ale, her eyelids heavy as she stared at the empty mugs sitting on the table before her. The merry bunch of travelers that she wandered around Orsterra with had stopped in Atlasdam to stock up on supplies. This detour also allowed Cyrus to make sure that the headmaster of his academy hadn't caused any harm to his students before he tried to kill Cyrus in Stoneguard.

Primrose just wanted to get moving, however, because this downtime gave her too much time to mull over how one stupid decision had probably ruined her most treasured friendship. She didn't know why she had kissed Alfyn that fateful night a few days ago. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had kissed him because she let her strong emotions for him overpower the rational side of her brain. How stupid of her.

She took another swig of her drink, before setting her mug down and rubbing at her temples, brow furrowed with frustration. Primrose didn't mention the kiss after the fact, and Alfyn hadn't either, and now there was a noticeably awkward air to their now brief conversations. Normally they could spend hours talking about anything and everything while they traveled from place to place, but after that night, they really didn't say much to each other besides general greetings. She didn't know how to fix things, and she felt like a pit had formed in her stomach.

Primrose lifted her mug to take another drink, but she realized that it was empty. She pursed her lips in annoyance and moved to stand to go get another, but suddenly a full mug was placed on the table in front of her. Confused, she turned to find Olberic moving to sit in the chair next to her.

"May I join you?" he asked. Primrose smiled slightly and nodded as she sat back down. They sat in silence for a few moments, taking quiet sips of their drinks, before Olberic cleared his throat and turned to look at her.

"Primrose, if there is something bothering you, I am willing to listen and offer advice if you would like. Especially if it has to do with Alfyn."

Primrose's grip tightened on her mug as she slowly looked up to meet his gaze. Olberic was a kind and honorable man, with a troubled past of his own that he had shared with her, and she in turn had shared hers with him. He was one of the few men that she felt that she could truly trust. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"How did you know?"

"Well, I have noticed that you two haven't been speaking as much lately. That, and you declined his offer to go and hunt for herbs with him today." Primrose grimaced. Olberic was too observant sometimes. She had been sad to say no to Alfyn's offer, as she always loved spending time with him picking various interesting plants for him to use in his healing salves. The hurt look on his face when she declined had made her feel worse. She was just afraid that it would have been too awkward to bear, considering their abysmal communication skills as of late.

"Well, thank you, Olberic." Primrose said, and he just smiled slightly and nodded, waiting patiently for her to continue. She paused to take a drink first. "I...made a mistake that may have cost me my friendship with Alfyn." The words felt like poison on her tongue, and she clenched her jaw as she tried to swallow away the lump that was forming in her throat. Olberic nodded in understanding.

"I see. It must have been something quite terrible to cause a rift between you two."

"Yes...I...kissed him. A few nights ago."

There was a long pause, until Olberic let out a rumbling chuckle. Primrose narrowed her eyes at him, not expecting that reaction.

"Olberic, this is no laughing matter."

"I apologize." he said, clearing his throat to compose himself. "I just don't understand how you doing something that the both of you have quite obviously wanted to do for a very long time would be a bad thing."

"...Is it really that obvious?" Primrose said, her cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

"Oh yes. I think that the entire group has caught on by now. Even Cyrus has enquired about it, as oblivious as he normally is."

Primrose groaned and rubbed at her temples. "Oh gods, if that clueless man has noticed something, then everyone with a working pair of eyes has." After taking a gulp of her drink, she shook her head slowly. "It...it doesn't matter. There's no chance of us getting together now."

"And why do you think that?" Olberic asked, his tone kind and patient. Primrose took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, opening them slowly as she exhaled.

"Because, I am too broken for him. He needs someone who can love him as much as he loves them. My heart has been too blackened by my past, by my need for revenge..." she trailed off, feeling tears start to well up in her eyes, and she hastily blinked them away. She glanced over at Olberic, who was silently studying her. He took a long drink of his ale, set his mug down, and placed a warm hand on her arm.

"Primrose," he started, giving her arm a gentle squeeze, "you do not give yourself enough credit. You are a good person, even after everything you've been through. You've suffered, but you did not let that suffering change you for the worse. You are strong, and you are deserving of love." Primrose listened to him silently, and she gulped as she felt the tears returning to her eyes as he continued speaking.

"Alfyn is young, but he is also kind, and is the most selfless man that I've ever met. If anyone is going to judge you for your past and your mission, it is certainly not him. I can tell that his love for you is strong and genuine." Primrose tensed as a few tears escaped and fell down her face, and Olberic reached up with his free hand to wipe some of them away.

"My advice to you is this: Finish up your mission. Avenge your father's murder, and clear your heart of that burden. After that, talk to Alfyn. Be honest with your feelings, and give them a chance to flourish, if you still feel as strongly for him then as you do now. Do not let this opportunity to find true love and happiness pass you by. For now, cherish your friendship with him. Mending friendships can be hard, but it is worth it, I can guarantee that." Primrose knew that he was talking from experience, given the events that had transpired between him and his old friend when they had traveled to Wellspring. It was good advice, advice that she would not take for granted.

"Olberic...I will take your words to heart. I am grateful for your help, truely..." Primrose said, trailing off as she started crying in earnest, and Olberic silently pulled her into a gentle hug. Primrose had only ever been this vulnerable in front of Alfyn before, but Olberic had proven himself to be a steadfast friend and ally. It was a friendship that she held dear to her heart.

"I am glad that I could help. I want you to be happy, Primrose. All of us do. Especially Alfyn." Olberic said when Primrose pulled away after managing to stop her tears from falling. Primrose smiled at him, and held up her mug of ale.

"To friendship." she said, and Olberic laughed and clinked his mug against hers.

"To friendship."

The fields outside of Atlasdam were filled to the brim with interesting plants and herbs, but Alfyn wasn't as enthusiastic about them as he normally would be. He sighed as he absentmindedly grabbed some flowers useful in his salves and stuffed them into his satchel. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about that night when Primrose had kissed him. He still had no idea what it meant, but he concluded that it was nothing good, because ever since then, their conversations had been few and far between, and lacking in the usual depth that most of the previous ones had contained.

He couldn't help but feel like it was his fault somehow, this negative shift in their relationship. Maybe it was his lack of reaction to Primrose's kiss that caused this. Or his inability to find the courage to ask her about it. No matter what it was, though, it was depressing him, and he sighed deeply as he reached for another handful of flowers.

"Hey, Alfyn! Didya go deaf on me or what?"

Alfyn blinked in confusion as a ball of grass suddenly hit him in the face, exploding on contact, and he sputtered as bits of grass got into his mouth. He had almost forgotten about his gathering partner, and he looked up to find that Tressa was laughing at him.

"Shucks, I'm sorry, Tress. What's up?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, I found these cool looking herbs, and was wondering if you can find a use for them." Tressa said, beaming at him as she held out a bunch of purple plants. Alfyn shrugged and took them from her.

"I might find something to use them for. Thanks." he said, smiling halfheartedly as he shoved the herbs in his satchel with the flowers. Tressa pouted at him and then sighed, sitting down next to him. They were silent for a moment, before she looked at him with soft eyes.

"Hey, remember what I said to you in Saintsbridge? That if you're ever in need, you can always come to me, and I'll be happy to help?" Tressa said, and he nodded slowly, wincing slightly at the mention of that place where he started to question everything that he believed about being an apothecary.

"Well good, then out with it. What's been bugging you so much lately?" she continued, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've had this sad look in your eyes for a couple of days now."

"Well, I..." Alfyn started, as he fidgeted with the strap on his satchel. He hadn't mentioned anything about that night to anyone in their group yet, but Tressa had become one of his closest friends. Maybe she could help him shed some light on this awkward situation.

"It's just...a couple of nights ago, Prim and I couldn't sleep, so we were sitting out by the campfire together and...well..." He paused when he felt his face heat, up and he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "She kinda...kissed me."

Tressa responded to this information by letting out a squeal so loud that Alfyn winced when the noise hit his ears.

"Oh my gods, no way!" she said, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him excitedly. "I'm so happy for you!" She stopped shaking him and studied his frowning face, the smiled falling from her own.

"But, you don't seem happy about it. Why?"

"It's just...after it happened, Primrose just...went straight to bed. I was too stunned to try and stop her, and ever since then...our normally fun conversations have turned generic and short. It's awkward, and I don't know what to do." Alfyn sighed and held his head in his hands. "I feel like I somehow ruined our friendship." Tressa stared at him for a moment, and then she sighed and shook her head.

"You big dummy," she started, cuffing Alfyn lightly on the back of his head. Alfyn yelped in surprise and narrowed his eyes at her, rubbing at the offended skin. "You need to talk to her about it. Not saying anything won't do you any good."

"But..." Tressa continued, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "It might not be the right time for it." Alfyn blinked and cocked his head to the side, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it." she said with a shrug, "Primrose has a lot on her mind right now, with her mission and all. She's about to go back to her hometown for the first time in god's know how long. She probably has a lot of conflicting emotions right now. Adding conflicting romantic feelings might not be a good idea." Alfyn nodded slowly. She had a point there. Primrose already had a heavy burden to carry, and he certainly didn't want to add to that load.

"Here's my advice: Be there for her during this tough time. Be the best dang friend that you can be. She needs all the support she can get. Sure, the rest of us will be there for her as well, but you are her closest friend and confidant. Then, after she has dealt with her mission, have an honest conversation about your feelings. Nothing will be accomplished if both of you hold your feelings bottled up inside."

"You two are probably the most selfless and loving people that I've ever met, that's for sure, and I think you two would be perfect together. That's just my opinion though." Tressa continued, winking at Alfyn, "Just know that we are all rooting for you guys. We want you to be the happiest you guys can be!" Alfyn stared at Tressa for a moment, his lip quivering, and he suddenly burst into tears. Tressa's eyes went wide as Alfyn pulled her into a hug and cried on her shoulder.

"T-Thank you, Tress. You sure are a lot wiser than you look." Alfyn said, pulling away as he wiped away his tears. He laughed when she pouted at him.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Well, you are just a youngin' after all. Didn't think such a tiny gal could hold that much good advice is all." Alfyn ducked this time to avoid a playful swat aimed at his head.

"Whatever. I probably give better advice than Therion, or that clueless scholar of ours." she said, and they both laughed.

"I agree with ya there." Alfyn said as he stood up, and Tressa did as well, "But really, thank you. I feel a lot better now."

"No problem. You can come to me with any of your problems, you know. I'll try to help the best that I can!" Tressa said, "Now, let's find some more salve ingredients!" Alfyn laughed at her enthusiasm and followed her as she ran off across the field, and he knew what he had to do when they got back to town. He needed to talk to Primrose.

It was almost sundown when Tressa and Alfyn returned to town, and they headed straight for the tavern. They found the rest of their group inside, and Tressa turned to him, giving him a thumbs up before going to join Therion and Ophilia at their table. Alfyn smiled, and he turned to scan the rest of the tables, until he found who he was looking for. Primrose was sitting at a table with H'aanit, Cyrus, and Olberic. Primrose's eyes met his, and his heart skipped a beat at the radiant smile that she sent his way. He watched her stand and cross the room towards him, beckoning him to the bar. He met her there, and the bartender set two mugs of ale in front of them at her request.

"Hello, Alfyn." Primrose said, her eyes meeting his for the first time in days, without them darting away seconds later. Alfyn almost sighed with relief, but he caught himself and took a sip of ale instead.

"Hey Prim. How was your day?" he asked. She shrugged and twirled a strand of her hair around her index finger.

"Not bad. Had some drinks and conversation with Olberic, and went shopping for a bit with Ophilia. Nothing too exciting. How was your herb gathering adventure?"

"Great! Tressa and I found a lot of useful herbs." Alfyn said excitedly, and his heart fluttered when Primrose giggled. It was such a beautiful sound.

"I am glad that your day went well."

"Thanks."

The two fell silent, and Alfyn started to feel nervous. Oh no, what if this conversation was going to trail off awkwardly like the rest of them? He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and he desperately tried to think of something to say, but he didn't have to.

"Alfyn?" He looked up to find Primrose looking at him, a slight flush gracing her cheeks as she fiddled with the bangles on her wrists. She looked so cute, that Alfyn thought that his heart was going to leap from his chest.

"I was wondering if you'd teach me how to make a new salve? I think that I've gotten pretty good at making that simple healing salve that you taught me. If you think I'm ready to move on." she asked, and a large smile spread out across his face.

"Oh, sure! You've got a natural talent for salve making, Prim! I think you're definitely ready to move on to something else!" Alfyn said, happiness practically radiating off of him. Primrose laughed, and the awkwardness and anxiety Alfyn had been feeling melted away in an instant. This felt like a normal Primrose and Alfyn conversation, and he was so happy that things were back to normal between them.

"Good, I'm glad that you think so highly of me." Primrose teased, and he felt his cheeks heat up.

"Well, of course. You're an amazing person, Prim, in more ways than one." Alfyn said, and it was Primrose's turn to blush. He chuckled and set his bag onto the table, pulling out a few herbs and flowers.

"Anyway, I think I'll teach you to make a simple salve used to treat minor burns. You see, this herb helps to dull the pain, and..." Alfyn started, and he lectured on while Primrose listened intently, and they were both incredibly relieved that their relationship was back to normal. They were the best of friends, and that was good enough for the both of them, for the time being anyway.

#octopath traveler #alfyn/primrose #alfyn greengrass #primrose azelhart #alfprim #fanfiction #team dad olberic is best daddo #also alfyn and tressa as bffs is that good shit #Jade writes fanfiction

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alteriius · 5 years

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War Torn Chapter 1

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XV PAIRING: Prompto/Noctis WORD COUNT: 2,087 LINKS: AO3 | KOFI

SUMMARY: Common sense says don't mess with the Astrals' plans, but Prompto's never claimed to have much of that, especially when his best friend's life is at stake. Unfortunately, the result isn't exactly what Prompto was expecting.

Posting this for @wipweek.

Prompto begs. In soundless words and with shaking hands that itch to hold Noct’s own, he begs. Don’t go, he wants to say. Please don’t go.

The words on the tip of his tongue almost tumble out when he catches sight of Noct’s brilliant blue eyes, but he holds back what he wants to say. He bites back the plea and holds off the tears lingering at the edges of his eyes.

It’s not fucking fair and Noct knows it . They all know it, even as Prompto reaches out to wrap his hand tight around his king’s, to stop him with a single word that he’d pray to the gods he wouldn’t be able to ignore, if only he trusted the gods anymore.

“Wait,” Prompto says, the single word rushed, spoken too quickly in the silence that’s fallen over the two of them—four, he reminds himself, because Ignis and Gladio are still there. He speaks it like he wants to turn around, to leave this city and give them the opportunity to lie back and look up at the starlit sky just one more time. To give himself the chance to let his eyes drift to the man beside him more than the lights above, to admire the brilliant sheen of bright blue eyes that glimmer with a strength that even the full moon lacks, because he wouldn’t have any other chances.

Not after today. "Prom," Noct whispers and Prompto chokes back a sob as his chest aches at the way Noct’s voice quivers with the same grief that Prompto’s at war with. But Prompto has no intention of making this worse than it already is. He can’t plead with him to stay, no matter how much his heart cries out for exactly that. "I'm going with you," he says and takes the first step to ascend the stairs leading up to the citadel, knowing that when the sun rose, Prompto wouldn’t be able to look at the throne and see anything but a grave .

When Noctis steps to the side, blocking his path, it’s not the movement that tips Prompto off to what he really wants—it’s the way their hands stay joined, the way his grip tightens so subtly that Noct probably doesn’t even notice .

But Prompto notices. Gods , of course he notices every minor detail of Noct showing him how much he wanted him to stay by him when his royal upbringing kept him from finding the words simple enough to convey the meaning.

“Prompto, you can’t .”

Can’t ? Prompto would laugh if he found even a hint of humor in the word and he desperately wishes he could. He wishes that pride was the main contender, that Noctis didn’t want to drag him along for the sake of being the strong, stoic guy he tried so hard to pretend he was.

Fuck the gods for damning him to a fate where the closest thing he could get to saving his friends was dying. Fuck the Astrals and the crystal and everything in between that decided the only mercy that Noct was afforded was not making his friends watch him die.

But it doesn’t matter what Noct is going to cook up as an excuse. Nothing could keep him from being by his side—not even death. "You're not doing this alone, Noct," he says, moving around him, leading him by their still-joined hands for a brief moment before his grip slackens and falls away, leaving Noctis to lead them.

Ignis makes no move to stop them nor does Gladio.

Noct’s steps were slow, even with Prompto at his side and he’d never be able to blame him for that and he notices when they came to a brief halt, Noct’s gaze turning to their rear to where their two companions had pulled their weaponry from the armiger.

Prompto leans forward, presses a hand to the small of his back like he used to do Ignis, when his sight was first lost.

“They’ll be okay,” Prompto whispers, knowing their strength—combined and separated—better than anyone else after this past decade. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a hefty weight in his chest called guilt, demanding he turn right around and help them. It was the part that wanted him to take the easy way out, the part that wanted to say goodbye and wait for Noctis to draw back the veil that hid the sun from Eos for these long ten years because how the hell is he supposed to stand there and watch his best friend of fifteen years die ?

But Prompto doesn’t run. A childhood marred by constantly running from what he was most afraid of was too long ago for him to be influenced by anymore—he didn’t do that anymore. He knew how to stand his ground through the worst of it, to channel fear into a drive to protect his friends as much as possible.

When Noctis finally nods and continues the climb with Prompto, he’s found his will to see this through to the end again, to be with Noctis in his last moments because like hell is he about to send his king off to die alone. Arriving at the throne room proves harder than approaching the Citadel. It’s difficult to stare up at the place he once imagined Noctis sitting, knowing it will be the first and last time he occupies that space. It’s difficult , knowing that Ardyn had been there just a short while ago, that the illusions of King Regis, Lady Lunafreya and several others had hung over it as a disgusting reminder of what they’d lost on their way here.

No matter how much it made his stomach churn, made his blood boil with renewed hatred for Ardyn Izunia, Prompto stayed at Noct’s side. He would stay there, right beside him through the worst of it, no matter how bad it got.

Noctis, after all, would do the same for him.

When they reach the throne, Prompto doesn’t speak. He has no place to, amidst the words that Noct leaves for an absent father that must be watching over him, that must be proud of how far he’s come, how far he’s still willing to go for a world that’s not always been so kind to him.

It’s not until Noctis is seated, head leaned back, looking far too old for a man barely into his thirtieth year, that Prompto reaches out. Brilliant blue eyes that glimmer with a life that the Astrals have never quite known snap up to his when Prompto’s hand lays over his wrist.

It’s the eye contact that gets him.

“Noct,” Prompto starts, though his voice shakes like he never wanted it to and he regrets how much harder he’s making this for Noct now. He wants to plead with him to step away, to fashion a life together with the three of them in the world of darkness that they’d all adapted to.

That wasn’t something he ought to do, though. Noctis was a grown man and he could choose, right? Right ?

The Astrals had forced his hand, but he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be, right? This was something he was doing of his own volition. …Right ?

A sob lingers at the back of his throat, held back as his grip slackens. Could he really do that to Noct? Could he let him leave his last moments to “live” through an eternity of guilt? “Save, uh,” he starts again, choking back the tears that collect in his eyes as his hand falls back to his side. "Save me a seat in the afterlife, yeah?"

“Yeah,” Noctis says, but it sounds weak and tired and Prompto’s heart aches the longer he speaks. Why do the gods have to be so cruel to someone like Noctis , of all people? “I’ll keep one warm for you.”

The silence that stretches between them doesn’t make this any easier, nor does it stop a tear from crawling down his cheek when Noct flashes a smile at him. It doesn’t look anything like it used to. It’s devoid of life, like he’s been dead for the past decade and they just didn’t have a body to mourn over. And when Noctis finally speaks, it’s commanding and kingly and all the things that Prompto’s never heard come out of Noctis’s mouth in his life. It’s all the things that Prompto had dreamed of hearing these past ten years, fantasizing about a happy future where he was kneeled before his king, at his beck and call like the other members of the Crownsguard—like a Glaive . "Kings of Lucis, come to me!"

The words reverberate off the walls and he watches as familiar apparitions rise from the earth. Taking a step forward is instinct and his fingers tremble when it hits him these aren’t enemies. They aren’t recreations that Ardyn has manipulated nor are they here to test them.

This is the part that Prompto is clueless about. How the hell are they supposed to instill him with the power to strike down the scourge? Are they going to lock their swords together like something out of an old video game?

No, he finds out a moment later, when he takes a step back and jumps out of skin when the first king flies forward, impaling Noctis before disappearing in a flash, absorbed into the ring.

“What the hell is this?!”

There’s horror in his shaking voice because for fuck’s sake , the Astrals have demanded he die and this is their idea of a fitting end? There’s a second flash of blue and then a third and he feels his chest tighten as he watches Noct writhe against the pain, holding tight to his father’s blade.

“This is a fucking joke, right?!”

A fourth flash, then a fifth and a sixth. Prompto’s gritting his teeth now. This has to be some kind of sick joke , right? How the hell could the Astrals put together a plan like this? How could they let it get so far that they gave Noctis the duty of suffering for what they’d let happen? "Everything you've done for them..." he whispers, struggling not to stop this. His hands are balled into fists so tight that his knuckles have gone sheet white. The seventh, eighth, ninth flash of blue passing him by do nothing to ease the sharp twist of anger in his gut. "This is how they repay you?"

The tenth one flies by and Prompto’s head raises to meet blue eyes for a brief moment.

“Prom—” But his words are cut off as the eleventh king hits him and Prompto is beginning to wonder if he can make it through the thirteenth—he’s beginning to wonder if he can allow him to make it through to the thirteenth.

When the twelfth runs Noctis through and disappears and he watches Noct’s hand slides partway down the sword, already living in his last moments, Prompto knows he can’t watch anymore.

“Prompto,” he croaks out, voice hoarse from the pain of his ancestors piercing him with their numerous weapons and he knows by the way he glances up at him that he’s not seeing anything straight, much less the ghostly form of King Regis. “Just… trust in me.”

Silence falls over them—Prompto and Noctis and the king he never properly met—and dead as he might be, Regis seems to wait for an answer that will never be what either one of them want to hear.

“I do,” he says at last and he hears Noct breathe out his relief too early, much like how quickly Regis casts his judgement. Wasn’t he supposed to be the stupid one? Well, he still had time to make that true.

Because when Regis raises his hand, pulls back his sword and charges, Prompto does what is probably the stupidest thing he can think of.

“It’s them I don’t,” he says before he throws himself between the thirteenth king and his king and his mouth falls open, dripping blood and forcing out a sharp gasp of pain as the blade pierces flesh, tearing through his back—and into Noct’s chest.

His vision blurs as he looks up, seeing a trace of awe in King Regis’s posture as he slowly draws his hands away and disappears in a blink of light. A laugh spills from his lips, wet with blood and broken like his heart.

“I... dunno what I was expecting…”

#final fantasy xv #Noctis Lucis Caelum #Prompto Argentum #promptis #wipweek #allen writes.

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