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#norman's lament
quantumziro · 10 months
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HERE IT IS
the long awaited finished product
Thank you GHOST fans
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birbwell · 8 months
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every day i lament that philip's being welsh in a clerical landscape dominated by the english dominated by the normans did not come into play in the game
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banji-effect · 7 months
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Remember me, but ah! Forget my fate.
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A better reason why Emma's character works better a girl: it creates the option for her to save herself by becoming a mom. It puts her in contrast to Isabel, who took that option, but ended up miserable. And just adds another layer to her strength and resolve to save everybody without compromise. In that sense, Ray and Norman don't have any option but to escape and survive, while Emma is making the choice not to take the easier way out.
[responding to this post] infinitely better than the "Emma, Norman, and Ray would look like they have mommy complexes if Emma wasn't a girl" bullshit Shirai ended up saying there, especially when the initial draft he presented to Jump had her as a girl from the start and it seemed like he fought his editor at least a bit on it
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(February 2017 Shueisha Interview)
And I have a hard time believing this was done with that reason being the primary motivator. It seems like he was just genuinely interested in exploring how things would work with a female protagonist in a Jump comic.
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A Look into New English/Nou Anglish and it's history - Apocalypse
After Ilka's teachings had led the androids and technology left behind after the first extinction of humanity to end their wars and discover the "Human Key" (A term to sum up what makes humans human, on both a psychological, philosophical and psychical level), the creation of the first human was made following the uncovering of the human genome. Preparations were quickly put in place to begin bringing on the first "wave" of society. The new language of this society - Nou Anglish, or New English - was chosen to be based off of English for it's popularity and reputation as a global language. Though the androids had begun to quickly get to work in learning English for themselves, androids, being beings composed of steady patterns and orders, found the numerous inconsistencies in it's vocabulary and grammar to be greatly difficult. A linguistics department was created to do further research into English, and following the tracing of it's roots back to Old English and the Anglish project, a new plan was developed: Create a new variant of English that would be consistent and easily learnable for both human and androidkind. Nou Anglish was based primarily off of Old English, with bits of Anglish scattered about for words that were nonexistent to the prior. Over the years, and especially following the Decommission, Nou Anglish became more and more simplified and lax in it's pronunciations, resulting in it's current form at the time of Apocalypse. Barnabas' favourite NA word is "þeðken" (Thethken) - A word taught to him by Colin shortly after he joined the team as Ilka. "Þeðken" is a new word particular to Nou Anglish meaning roughly along the lines of "The realisation that at the time you exist, someone you've never met or is out of your sight, near or far, is currently existing and living their own life as well - In all manners of sight, feel, taste, etc. etc.". Barnabas commonly used it as a sign-off to Colin in their letters to each other.
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hahahiiiiiiiiiiii · 30 days
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Sound on folx
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freddysglove · 1 year
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what the slashers got you for valentine’s day
michael: if he even remembered (which is obviously highly unlikely), his gift would be coming home early and hovering over you for the rest of the evening. in his mind, this is romantic intimacy.
jason: a handful of dandelions from the forest and a big hug.
pinhead (1987): they would just ask you what you wanted and get you exactly that. very straightforward! not really the surprise type.
pinhead (2022): would give you the lament configuration and tell you to choose lauderant/love (it’s a pickup line).
norman bates: roses :>
patrick bateman: money for breast implants.
billy lenz: a live rat he found in the attic.
freddy krueger: permission to borrow his hat for the night. what do you mean you don’t want it? of course you do.
billy loomis: nothing. why do you need a present? is he not enough?
stu macher: extremely expensive jewelry!
harry warden: a box of chocolates (there's no heart inside, pinky promise).
herbert west: would ABSOLUTELY forget and end up spending all day in his lab </3.
art the clown: stolen gifts from his victims. lots of jewelry and even articles of clothing.
tiffany valentine: wine, chocolates, and a LOT of physical affection.
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tragedry · 1 month
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Tyler Hernandez on 'love, grief, rage, and rebirth.'
Anna de Noailles (Translator) “Dazzled, Precise” by Norman R. Shapiro / Helen Oyeyemi, White Is for Witching / Red, School Bus Graveyard / Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild / Anne Carson (Translator), Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides / Maya Angelou / Fortesa Latifi, The Truth About Grief / defromitittes on tumblr, Meditation On The Threshold: A Bilingual Anthology Of Poetry, ‘Dido’s Lament’, Rosario Castellanos / Leah Horlick, for your own good / Suzanne Collins, the hunger games / Car Seat Headrest, Big Jacket / Jen Rouse, Acid and Tender / Richard Siken, Crush / Ingeborg Bachmann, In the Storm of Roses: Selected Poems; Songs of Flight / Fortesa Latifi, Fingertips / The Mountain Goats, Sax Rohmer #1
part i/vii
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berlingotesque · 3 months
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What are your ships for Batim? :D
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VERY GOOD QUESTION- I know my answer should be rather straightforward but I feel I have to put some context to my answers since they may seem contradictory/paradoxical otherwise, so bear with me-
Sammy x Norman : Well. I think that one was pretty obvious, anyone who's seen more than 3 of my posts knows that I'd die for these two. They're just so PERFECT for each other, from their complementary personalities to the fact that their relationship allows us to delve deeper into batim's historical and social context. Sammy and Norman have one of the few relationships that develop the most during the game's lore : Norman originally complains vehemently about Sammy's frenetic behavior, only to end up lamenting to Buddy and Dot how 'Sammy isn't the same anymore'. What's interesting about this statement is that he says it in relation to Sammy's strange behavior : clearly, the two men have grown close enough for Norman to differentiate Sammy's extravagant habits from his ink-influenced behavior.
Furthermore, Sammy is a very gray character morally, a perfectionist who is extremely socially maladjusted (surely due to the fact that he's coded on the spectrum and autism wasn't properly diagnosed at the time), naturally ostracizing him. For his part, Norman comes from a rural background (which surely earns him the animosity of the people at the studio, given the historical context and the fact that he could very well be poc) and also seems ill at ease socially : to me, it's fascinating to see two characters excluded from their peers because of differences they can't change (being autistic or poc and gay) getting closer to each other, to the point where Sammy, who is deeply misanthropic, naturally compliments Norman by describing him as very bright. To me, Norman is the perfect partner for Sammy : ready to apprehend him as he is, since he's completely free of social conventions, without taking any shits from him.
I think Sammy and Norman can really get the best out of each other, during a historical period when being different was strongly proscribed. I think I'd have trouble enjoying Batim as much without their dynamic at its heart (considering how narratively rich it is) : Norman is Henry's confidant, Sammy is Joey's, both remain morally gray deuteragonists fundamentally opposed to the ink machine, while remaining fascinated by its powers. And who wouldn't love a good old enemies to lovers ending tragically with the unwitting murder of one by the other ? After all, Norman's main flaw is that he's too curious for his own good, and it was Sammy who inevitably led him to his doom..
Allison x Tom : what more can I add. She's everything. He's just Tom. I've always been drawn to characters/ships with a vibe completely opposite to the vibe of the work they originally came from, and the 'turning poison into positivity' energy that Tom and Allison bring to Batim has always fascinated me. In a world as tragic as their own, I find it touching to see these two find beauty in all the ugliness and manage to ask themselves 'what if we were happy after all ?' It's really striking and brings a narrative richness to the work, since they directly mirror what failed with Sammy and Susie : Allison is perfect, but that was never what was at stake in Tom's eyes. Tom was looking for humanity, not perfection, and he managed to go beyond the image of the muse to discover a friend, unlike Sammy with Susie. They're literally Romeo and Juliet but, well... Not dead.
Joey x Henry/Henry x Linda : oh boy. These three... Let me get it straight right away : Henry and Linda are perfect for each other. She's exactly what he needs to be happy : she's present, patient. There's no denying that he loves her immensely. But Joey... oh Joey is undoubtedly Henry's soul mate. The subtlety is that Joey can't bring him the stable happiness Linda can : Joey tugs at him, pushes him over the edge. He knows exactly what to do to push him beyond his own limits. The love Joey offers Henry is an uncomfortable but unconditional one, one that would allow Henry to go beyond what he thinks he's capable of achieving because no one knows Henry better than Joey ! And let's be honest, Batim only exists because Joey refuses to move on, to live his dream without Henry in it. He's stuck in unrequited love and refuses to learn to live with it. And that's the tragedy of this trio : Henry sincerely loves Linda but is truly himself with Joey, which prevents him from hating OR loving him (And Joey exploits this information by remaining extremely toxic and convincing himself that he can wear him down lmao). Henry is stuck with this dilemma : Existing peacefully with Linda or living painfully with Joey. And that's why I love the dynamic of this love triangle : because there are no solutions that will satisfy everyone.
Joey x Sammy : okay, don’t get me wrong : these two are HORRIBLE for each other. Does Sammy periodically want to quit just to piss Joey off? Yes. Isn't Joey's fascination with Sammy intimately tied to his refusal to forget Henry, who was a genius like Sammy? Yes. Nevertheless, it's impossible for me to read The Illusion of Living without feeling embarrassed and like I'm reading Joey's diary : whether you ship them or not, Joey is practically canonically smitten with Sammy. I sincerely don't think Joey and Sammy can sustain a healthy relationship with each other, but oh boy, surely that won't stop me from exploiting their bizarre obsessive love-hate relationship, where it's hard to determine whether they're going to throw hands or make out.
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thetomorrowshow · 2 months
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gone day
empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)
set some point probably like. 18 months after the end of ‘poisoned rats’? i’m not really keeping up with these dates lol
cw: dissocation
~
It’s one of those days where Scott can look at Jimmy and know that he’s gone.
He’s known Jimmy for more than two years now, and he thinks he ought to be able to recognize when there’s nothing but emptiness behind his eyes. And today, Scott looks at Jimmy and the way he goes through the motions, the way he gets ready for work and makes breakfast, and it’s clear that he’s not present today.
Sometimes Scott can help. Sometimes he can hold him and rub his arms and bring that spark back to his eyes.
Other times Norman can help. He can crawl up into Jimmy’s lap and demand attention, rubbing his head underneath Jimmy’s chin until he returns to himself enough to scratch Norman around the ears and go about finding something to play with.
Today, neither of those things help, and Jimmy kisses Scott goodbye with unmoving lips before leaving for work.
Scott doesn’t go to work, today—he instead cleans the house and keeps an eye on the news, making sure there aren’t any emergencies that he needs to swoop in to solve.
There’s nothing—just like there’s nothing in the fridge, and Scott drives to the grocery store only to find that the oil needs changed. And usually, he’d just text Jimmy and ask what he needed to purchase to do it at home, but he knows Jimmy’s probably not having a great day, so he picks up some donuts and a small bouquet of wildflowers while shopping and then swings over to the mechanic where Jimmy is apprenticed.
“Jim, your man’s here!” one of Jimmy’s coworkers calls back into the garage when Scott shows up, flowers and donuts in hand. He leaves the donuts on the counter of the front room, then waits until Jimmy comes in through the side door, wiping his hands on a rag.
“Hey, petal,” Jimmy greets him, and Scott’s heart sinks a little as he sees that Jimmy’s still gone. It’s the way he stumbles a bit while walking, the way he doesn’t meet Scott’s eyes, the way he keeps scrubbing the rag around one finger again and again. Scott still hands him the flowers, helps him tuck one into the front pocket of his t-shirt, gives him a kiss.
“My car needed an oil change,” he explains when Jimmy asks him why he’s here, and it’s even more evidence to the fact that he’s gone that Jimmy doesn’t even question why he brought in to the shop when they could’ve sorted it at home. Instead he gets to work, placing the flowers in his locker before popping the hood of the car.
It takes nearly an hour, and it’s less because of Jimmy’s skill and more because he keeps getting distracted by seemingly nothing. Scott waits patiently, scrolling through his phone and occasionally asking Jimmy questions about his day. Jimmy’s answers are vague and stilted, which he expects. And it’s all right, really. It’s a gone day.
At one point, Jimmy’s shirt comes untucked and rides up his back—something Scott knows he’s very self-conscious about—but Jimmy doesn’t even seem to notice, focused on the task at hand. Scott surreptitiously moves behind him, blocking the view of Jimmy’s scarred back from any passersby. It’s the least he can do.
When Jimmy finally finishes he straightens, pulling his shirt down and adjusting the flower in his pocket. He smiles faintly at Scott. “All good,” he says. “Do you want it charged to your account or mine?”
“Mine,” Scott says, although it doesn’t matter much—they have separate accounts because it helps Jimmy with stability and trust, but they mostly split earnings these days.
Jimmy leads him back inside to the counter and rings him up without issue. He gives Scott a kiss. He laughs when Scott teases him and flirts back when Scott flirts.
But he’s not there, not really.
So Scott goes home, silently lamenting the fact that he wasn’t able to bring his boyfriend back.
He calls Lizzie, eventually. All he has to do is tell her that it’s a gone day and she understands. She’s on patrol, but it’s quiet and she’s just casually riding little waves at the docks while chatting. She reassures Scott that there’s nothing he can reasonably do on days like this, that whatever he had done had been more than enough.
He knows they both hope that one day, this sort of thing will be a distant memory. One day, Jimmy won’t ever be trapped in his own mind, removed from the world without seemingly being aware that he is. One day, Jimmy will be better.
He hangs up when Jimmy gets back home. Jimmy gives both cats a treat, absentmindedly giving them each a pat on the head. He kisses Scott on the cheek. He strips off his t-shirt and jeans and takes a quick shower, rinsing the grime from a day’s hard work off his body. He eats dinner on the couch with Scott, hand holding the fork a little too tight and arm moving a little too mechanically.
He smiles up at Scott while leaning against his shoulder, and his eyes are still empty. He’s still gone.
Scott swallows back the tears that tighten his throat and kisses his nose. It’s just a gone day. That’s all it is. Jimmy will be back to his normal self in the morning.
It doesn’t make it any easier in the moment.
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une-sanz-pluis · 8 months
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The Death of John of Lancaster, Duke of Bedford - 14 September 1435
Bedford died in Rouen Castle on 14 September 1435 at a critical moment in the war, a week after the English left the congress of Arras unsatisfied in their demands, and a week before the conclusion of peace between France and Burgundy. On 13 April 1436 Paris was reconquered and English possessions, including Bedford's, were confiscated for the crime of lèse-majesté. Normandy was lost by 1450 and by 1453 all France except Calais. In accordance with the provisions of Bedford's nuncupative will, he was buried 'magnificently' on 30 September in Rouen Cathedral, on the north side of the choir near the high altar, near the other royal tombs. His effigy was destroyed by Calvinists in 1562, but a funerary plaque bearing his arms, heraldic insignia, and Garter collar survived to the eighteenth century [...] The burial was excavated in 1860. A large-framed skeleton was reportedly uncovered, fitting with Waurin's description of Bedford at Verneuil as a man of great physical strength with powerful limbs. [...] He left no legitimate children, but two bastards, Richard and Mary, apparently conceived before the regency. Their mother is unknown. [...] Bedford's reputation survived the reconquest of France and Normandy. His familia and former captains, such as Sir John Fastolf, are recorded in William Worcester's Boke of Noblesse as lamenting the passing of the regent and what he stood for. In his own century many English and French (especially pro-Burgundian) chroniclers eulogized Bedford; Thomas Basin described him as 'wise, humane and just' (Basin, bk 2, cap. 2). Lively pen portraits of Bedford and Anne of Burgundy are sketched by the Norman chronicler Pierre Cochon and by the anonymous Parisian, the Bourgeois de Paris, who wrote approvingly of Bedford's propensity to build (maçonner) wherever he was. His hot temper emerges in a few episodes, as does his religious orthodoxy. [...] Criticism of Bedford and the regency has been strongest from nationalistic historians of Normandy and partisans of Jeanne d'Arc, in line with the historiography of the Hundred Years' War as it developed in the nineteenth century. Most historians have emphasized his devotion to duty, to his dead brother's intentions, and to the service of his nephew Henry VI. Bedford was a mighty prince, a brave soldier, and a considerable patron and collector. His court and its ceremonies fulfilled a crucial political role in giving an illusion of permanence and stability to the Lancastrian presence in France.
Jenny Stratford, "John [John of Lancaster], duke of Bedford (1389-1435), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography
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wench-h · 2 months
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#nyc
Norman B. Colp “The Commuters Lament”
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Rayemmaraser
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usafphantom2 · 8 months
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The termination of the SR-71 Blackbird was a grave mistake and could place our nation at a serious disadvantage in the event of a future crisis,” Senator John Glenn
General Larry Welch, the Air Force chief of staff, staged a one-man campaign on Capitol  Hill to kill the program entirely,” Ben Rich wrote in his book Skunk Works: A Personal Memoir of My Years of Lockheed. “General Welch thought sophisticated spy satellites made the SR-71 a disposable luxury. Welch had headed the Strategic Air Command and was partial to its priorities. He wanted to use SR-71 refurbishment funding for development of the B-2 bomber. He was quoted by columnist Rowland Evans as saying, ‘The Blackbird can’t fire a gun and doesn’t carry a bomb, and I don’t want it.’ Then the general went on the Hill and claimed to certain powerful committee chairmen that he could operate a wing of fifteen to twenty [F-15E] fighter-bombers with what it cost him to fly a single SR-71.
That claim was bogus. So were claims by SAC generals that the SR-71 cost $400 million annually to run.
The actual cost was about $260 million.”
As told by Bill Yenne in his book Area 51 Black Jets, within a few months of this much-publicized flight, Saddam Hussein’s Iraqi army had occupied Kuwait and the U.S. was involved in the Desert Shield buildup that culminated in Operation Desert Storm in January and February 1991. During that conflict, many operational commanders, including
General Norman Schwarzkopf, lamented the absence of expedited reconnaissance that the SR-71 might have contributed.
Mounting concerns about the situations in world trouble spots from the Middle East to North Korea led Congress to reconsider the reactivation of the SR-71. In 1993, Admiral Richard Macke, director of the joint staff for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, told Congress that “from the operator’s perspective, what I need is something that will not give me just a spot in time but will give me a track of what is happening. When we are trying to find out if the Serbs are taking arms, moving tanks or artillery into Bosnia, we can get a picture of them stacked up on the Serbian side of the bridge. We do not know whether they then went on to move across that bridge. We need the [reconnaissance information] that a tactical, an SR-71, a U-2, or an unmanned vehicle of some sort, will give us, in addition to, not in replacement of, the ability of the satellites to go around and check not only that spot but a lot of other spots around the world for us. It is the integration of strategic and tactical.” Parts of this article were found in Aviationgeekclub written by Dario Leone in 2018.
Canceling the SR-71’s was a big mistake brought on by jealousy instead of common sense. Linda Sheffield
@HabuBrats71 via X
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"Okay, I think I've got everything sorted out now," said Jimmy to Norman, who conveyed his approval of the sheriff's work by batting at the stack of papers. "What time is it? Our visitor from Chromia should be here any - "
"Sheriff?" called a voice from outside. Jimmy glanced out the window, only to freeze in place at the sight of a colorful coat and cyan hair. The visitor climbed the stairs, and Jimmy ducked under the desk as the knock on the door reverberated through the room. "Hello? It's the king of Chromia. I'm not too early for our meeting, I hope?"
"Oh no...What do I do?" hissed Jimmy, looking at Norman as if he'd have an answer. "Of all people. Of all people!" He buried his face in his hands and groaned, wincing at another knock. "I could just...ignore him. I'll just ignore him until he goes away." Scott called out again, and Jimmy dragged his hands down his face with a heavy sigh. "No, I can't. Tumble Town needs alliances, or at least to not make enemies. Okay. Okay, you've got this, Jim." He crawled out from under the desk and straightened his clothes. "I'll just greet him like he's the ambassador I'm expecting, and not...well."
Norman meowed in response, and Jimmy moved toward the door, opening it just as Scott was moving down the steps. "Hi, sorry! Got a little carried away with some important paperwork, you know how it is. Sorry to keep you waiting." He extended his hand for a handshake. "I'm Jimmy, sheriff of Tumble Town."
Scott turned to look at him, and when their eyes met Jimmy felt like the entire world was holding its breath along with him. He fought back every emotion that tried to claw its way up his throat, waiting to see what Scott would do next, and after what felt like an eternity of an unreadable look Scott finally smiled politely. "It's not a problem," he said, taking Jimmy's hand. "Scott, king of Chromia. It's nice to meet you."
He doesn't remember me, realized Jimmy, uncertain if the lightheaded feeling that flooded through him was relief or not. "Nice to meet you too. Shall I show you around?"
He doesn't recognize me, thought Scott, uncertain if he was sorry about the missed chance to apologize for everything, or simply glad that he was able to stand next to Jimmy again without the awkwardness he had been fully prepared to face. "I think I'd like that," he said, and followed Jimmy down the path.
}{
Just inside the front door of his little house in Tumble Town, Jimmy leaned against the wall and put his face in his hands before sliding down to the floor. "I've died and gone to hell," he muttered. "That must be it. Maybe I slipped off the ladder or something when I was building the creeper farm." Norman meowed at his elbow, and Jimmy scooped him up.
Outside in the llama pen as the shadows lengthened over Chromia, Scott pulled a brush through Mia's fur. "It feels like a cruel joke," he lamented, working through the tangles. "I mean, I knew settling in this region meant I might run into him some day, but..."
"I don't know how I managed to keep a straight face," said Jimmy, scratching Norman behind the ears. "I didn't know if I wanted to yell or cry. Maybe both. Should I go yell at him?" Norman looked up and gave him a slow blink. "No, you're right," he sighed. "It wouldn't help and I'd just embarrass myself. He doesn't even - " He bit his lip.
"I guess I should be glad he didn't recognize me," said Scott, giving an apologetic rub when the brush snagged and yanked out a tuft of fur. "That means he's moved on, right? And he's the sheriff now! His name is on the list of powerful figures in the region that Pix is putting together for a meeting. He's really done well for himself." He moved to Mia's other side and smiled. "I'm sure he's happy. He doesn't need me interfering with that." His smile faded a little. "Was I that easy to forget, though?"
"He could have shown some kind of recognition," complained Jimmy, and buried his face in Norman's fur. His little deputy made a small complaint, but sat patiently in Jimmy's arms nonetheless. "But why would he? He got what he wanted and left. I doubt I'm the first or the last broken heart he's left in his wake, and I'm hardly memorable." He smiled when Norman started purring, even as his heart ached. "I tried to forget him too, but it didn't work. And now he's here again." He sighed. "And despite everything, you know what the worst part is?"
Scott put the brush back in the grooming bag and wrapped his arms around Mia's neck. "I really tried not to think about him, you know? I made a decision. I had my reasons. I only went to Tumble Town today out of duty and maybe mild curiosity." He sighed. "But you know what I realized when I saw him?"
As the sun set over two different empires, two different figures whispered the same lonely words into the fur of their animal companions:
"I really missed him."
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normanbased · 1 year
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“feebly ask on date” and “ask completely inappropriate question” for the. sims prompts thingy
THANK GOD YOU ASKED THE ONES I WANTED THE MOST 💥😭🙏 BRAIN CONNECTION doing the first one first and the second one uhhh second but I’ll make a separate post for it :]] (as usual, if you see any typos or mistakes, no you didn’t 💕)
Feebly Ask on a Date
There was a fetid little crush beginning to fester in Norman’s heart.
He didn’t think it was possible to fall so strongly for another person like this, especially for someone as rebellious as you. Mother didn’t like troublemakers, and Norman knew better than to develop feelings for passing strangers.
But knowing better didn’t always mean following Mother’s expectations. His urges were difficult to control, as were those undeniable, blossoming revelations of love beginning to bubble up inside of him.
He couldn’t bare it. The very thought of you made his heart race so fast that he could hardly stand upright. It was so nauseating in fact, that he couldn’t even spy on you anymore without feeling faint. He was the definition of lovesick. He wanted to be with you, absolutely he wanted to - but… he couldn’t quite overcome those awful nerves...
Regardless, his obsession was growing fast. He didn’t want you to leave, ever. He would find a way to make you stay somehow. If he couldn’t, well, he would cross that bridge when he got to it — if it came down to that.
In the meantime, Norman had to build up his courage. He couldn’t very well ask you to be with him if he couldn’t even bare to see you.
He spent the afternoons upstairs in his bedroom, pacing back and forth and practicing his romantic proposals on the only friend willing to put up with his antics — his stuffed rabbit.
“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” He stuttered. “W-Would you want to, um-… No, I can do better, let me try again.”
He’d been trying over and over to figure out what to say. He wanted to get it perfect, so that there would be no room for rejection. His confidence was paper thin, but he was sure that there was a strong, assertive version of himself in there somewhere. He just had to release it.
Norman turned away and counted to ten in his head. When he turned back around, he planted both hands firmly on the bed and leaned in close.
“Do you wanna have dinner with me?” He leered as seductively as he could, whispering right into the flopped ear of his rabbit.
The rabbit slumped down, dragged by the gravitational pull of secondhand embarrassment.
Ugh.
He smacked his hands over his face in a red flush of humiliation, and shot off to the other side of the room to pace feverishly. He couldn’t hold back his groans, horrified by the sound of his own awkward, terribly unsexy voice.
This wasn’t going to work.
“God,” he lamented, sitting on the edge of his bed. “What am I thinking?”
He held his head in his hands. He laid down onto his side and looked into the black, glassy eyes of his stuffed companion.
“I’m not ready for this, am I?”
The rabbit’s eyes glinted with sympathy in the light of the lowering sun.
“D’you think I might be worrying too much?” Norman questioned, before smiling weakly. “Maybe… you’re right. Maybe I should just go for it.”
He nodded to himself bravely.
“Do you think I can do it?”
His rabbit didn’t move or speak, but it’s solemn little face gave Norman a glimmer of hope.
He could do it.
Before he had even registered what he’d done, he was standing outside of your cabin door, having just knocked it with excitable vigour. He brushed down his sweater with nervous hands, and fixed the collar on his shirt.
He waited for you to open the door, his heart thumping like mad. He could hear your footsteps approaching, and the handle rattled. Norman wrung his hands together fretfully, saying nothing as you opened the door to him with a surprised smile.
“Evening, Norman.” You grinned, leaning into the door frame. “Where’ve you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”
Norman looked down at the decking. The floorboards seemed so far away. He felt himself swaying like a skyscraper in a storm. His breath was held tightly, and he had to close his throat to stop himself from being sick all over his shoes.
He didn’t want to do this anymore.
He’d built himself up back in the house. He’d mustered up so much courage to march out here and knock on your door. But now that he was here in front of your cabin, in front of you, Norman’s head began to spin so fast he feared that it might twist right off. He couldn’t look at you, he couldn’t speak.
He had to get out of here, back to the house before he fainted.
“Why don’t you come in?” You said, before he had the chance to flee.
He looked at you then, eyes bordering on wild. His mouth was dry, and when his lips parted to speak, nothing came out besides a hiccuped stutter. He clenched his jaw shut and shook his head, swallowing feverishly in the hopes it would wrench his voice free.
You watched him curiously, amused by his strange behaviour. You gestured wordlessly with your arm to invite Norman inside again, but he didn’t move. It was as though he were glued stuck to the decking.
Norman knew he couldn’t run away now without looking like the biggest fool in the world, but he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. What was he thinking? He had to get away right now, he had to, he—
“Hi.” He choked out.
What the hell was he doing now?
“Hi, Norman.” You said back in a slow, curious voice. “Did you need something?”
There was a little, amused smirk on your lips. He didn’t know whether to be assured by it or offended.
“Um… S-Sorry for uh, bothering you like this.” He muttered.
His hands were shaking like crazy, and he tried to squeeze them tightly to each other to make the shaking stop.
“Oh, that’s alright.” You reassure him. “I wasn’t doing anything anyway. It’s good to see you.”
You were happy to see him? Oh, God.
“Really? Oh, well that’s… that’s great.”
A long beat of silence passed before Norman thought to speak again.
“Well, I just t-thought I should come and ask if you were free later, and m-m-maybe if you wanted to eat. If you wanted to eat dinner, I mean. Because I was-… I was thinking of making some d-dinner, and I wanted to know if you wanted to uh, oh…”
No, that wasn’t good enough.
“uh, no, sorry- I um, if you had some spare… some spare time-… some…”
You’ve fucked it up, haven’t you?
His head was pounding now. He was going to pass out if he didn’t find a way to ground himself quickly.
You seemed to notice his unsteadiness, and before you could ask him what was the matter, his legs were suddenly giving out beneath him.
Before he could drop to the ground, you caught his lanky form tightly in your arms, and slowly lowered him to rest against the outer wall of the cabin. He stayed there, dazed and lightheaded, while you patted his cheek and tried to snap him out of it.
You tended to him for a while with a wet cloth on his forehead, and slowly helped him sip down a glass of water to soothe his dry throat. Once he was sufficiently calmed, you sat beside him, and the two of you looking out towards the low sunset on the horizon of the highway.
The crickets chirped away in the distance. The birds flocked across the purpling sky to roost in the sparse trees. The desert road that had been baking in the sun all day smelled sweetly of tarmac and dust.
Norman’s chest wasn’t thrumming with anxiety anymore, not now that your shoulders were pressed together, and your hand was lazily placed atop his. He turned to look at you, but you were still gazing off pensively at the thin red line of sun.
“Hello.” He said without stuttering.
Let’s try this again.
“Hi, Norman.” You smiled. “You wanted to ask me something?”
Yes.
He nodded with a gentle smile, and pondered his next move. Your thumb stroked the back of his hand affectionately. The fading sunlight still lingered in the warmth of your eyes.
He could do it.
He rested his cheek on your shoulder and you leaned into him, closing your eyes and feeling a gentle blush creep onto your face. His free hand loosely tangled itself into the fabric of your button-up.
“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
You let out a relieved laugh and nodded.
“Absolutely.”
You let out a relieved laugh and nodded.
“Absolutely.”
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