#now we get to enjoy the incredible sound he invented without him getting any money or appreciation PERFECT

[baezdylan]

LITTLE WOMEN FANFICTION

CHAPTER 3: SEVEN

Escapism

"Please, picture me in the trees...

...before I learned civility."

- seven, Taylor Swift

***

one.

- Let's run away.

It's barely a whisper. It's said more to the open sky above them than to anybody else.

- Let's run away.

It's more than a whisper now. It's a call. An invitation for something greater than both of them. And Laurie would gladly buy a ticket for that particular train. He would. But the sun is so wonderful and the clouds are so enchanting in their unusual shapes that even getting up seems like a chore. He wants to stay here. On the grass. But Jo is persistent in her wishes. Jo March never, never, gives up.

- Won't you say something, Teddy? Can't you just see it? We could be anything, do anything, go anywhere! The world could be ours!

She, unlike him, is on her feet. She always seems to be. Gravity isn't very fond of Jo. Or at least that's what Jo will tell you. Laurie doesn't know if that's true or not, but he likes hearing her talk. He finds himself generally attached to sounds. The chipering of birds. The first note you play on the piano. Amy's chaotic laughter. Beth's soft chuckles. Meg's little mumbles. Jo's wild exclaims. That's one of the many reasons why Laurie loves the Marches. It's like these sisters have discovered an utterly fresh, vivid and extraordinary way to be alive. It's a pleasant contrast to what he's used to.

It's always quiet at home.

"What do you say Theodore Laurence, kindest and most noble of knights of this kingdom? Shall we follow the wind and see where it leads us?"

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Then you accept my proposal?"

"I sure do, Miss March."

People's faces usually look radically different when lightened up with smiles. They look prettier, more beautiful and somehow truer to themselves as opposed to non smiling faces. Jo's doesn't. She is smiling at him right now and her face doesn't look any different. It's just as true and warm as it was a thousand smiles before. And would Laurie even be allowed to call himself a comrade of Jo's if he didn't gift her with a smile of his own in return? He grins at her with no specific thought behind the expression. This is how people are supposed to be smiling, he thinks. Wide and real. Yes, people are supposed to be smiling just like this.

For a second, Jo and Laurie are the same person. Hair wild, shirts half unbuttoned, cheeks flushed. Laurie's hands are splattered with dirt from the ground whose hostility he was taking advantage of moments prior. Jo doesn't seem to care about that. Once he's up and standing, she grabs his arm a bit forcefully (which he doesn't mind), a bit theatrically (because this is Jo and life is a theatre piece) and they start running, both of them now embellished with dust. There's a lot of stumbling (and stumbling is blamed on the seemingly nonexistent objects that appear and disappear under commands of fairy like creatures) and there's a lot of laughter (laughter that comes in its most natural form and doesn't show any interest in being contained under anyone's wishes, especially not the ones of the world).

"Oh dearest, the world might not be for us, but us we are for the world."

***

two.

Freedom is both the most basic and the most complicated aspect of life to be gained. It is so simple of a concept, one could easily and rightfully so believe how all of thought guardians (more commonly referred to as humans) should have the right to not only experience, but spend their entire lives swimming in shinning lakes of freedom. But it's not how it all works. Some have tiny bits of freedom. Some don't have it at all. Some have loads. Some have just enough. Too much, sadly or sadly not, have none. 

Jo sometimes wishes she were a tree. High up in the sky, stretching out her branches towards infinity. She isn't a tree though.

Imagination is of grave help despite what anyone says. To a normal person, the tree is just a tree. Tree and nothing else. To Jo March, a tree is so much more. It's an opportunity. An adventure. It's a solace and a home. A sanctuary. She's climbing up one of her leaf providing friends as she's trying to figure out how to describe this moment the best. Her reflections are interrupted by a voice which surprisingly doesn't come from the bellow, but from the above instead. Once Jo spots the speaker's ground conquerors (or "shoes" if you are of dull old sameness and don't find the pleasure in crafting phrases unlike our Jo), she immediately recognizes their owner. She still isn't sure why Teddy let Amy paint his shoes with images of flowers, but she is mesmerized with the final result. And although she shall never share this with the oh, so great artist, Jo thinks Amy's creations to be exquisite.

"I presume you are coming here to put your mind at ease."

"That is correct, my boy, and I suppose you are here for the same cause. "

By the time they exchange these lines, Jo has already climbed up to the place where Laurie is. She finds herself a steady enough branch and rests her head against the surface of the wood. Her friend is positioned in a similar way, his leg gently swaying to a peculiar beat of his own making.

Two figures, who almost seem to be one with the wooden fellow, occasionally take an exceptionally deep breath. Their hands colored with bruises, souvenirs from many extraordinary expeditions, their clothes decorated with leaves. Seemingly they are flowers, nature is their most beloved companion.

It's quite a story how Jo and Teddy, these flower resembling humans, coexist without many syllables shared. The phrases they do sometimes grace each other with can end up being translated as meaningless or lacking in thought. But Teddy and Jo, among everything else, are inventors. They invented a language which only functions for them. What is mean to others represents to them a code. What is strange to some, playful and witty to them it is. What is impossible to comprehend, they understand with little to no effort.

"Language of flowers is the language of flowers for a reason. Nobody, but flowers, thinks it much sense."

***

three.

"I'M ALIVE! LOOK AT ME, EARTH!!! I! AM! BREATHING!"

This is just one of the many declarations that have furiously been shouted at the void today. Young people often have trouble befriending compromises, especially if those compromises are to be made with the creatures you live in close proximity with. Jo has again been fighting with her sisters for reasons she cannot exactly recall right this instant. It's funny, because this always happens to her. Something sparks her temper, she recklessly gives into it and at the end, it's all about the anger she doesn't know how to release. She usually goes on long walks or takes deep breaths. She basically tries to isolate herself from everyone until the storm passes.

Teddy has a different solution for her troubles, troubles that naturally turn out to be his troubles too because they are Jo and Teddy, Teddy and Jo, and they have the same troubles (which is both wonderfully relieving and awfully annoying at the same time). Jo wouldn't even call Teddy's solution a solution. They are both making these announcements of nonhuman frequency and dancing their heads off, and as ridiculous as it is, Jo feels it liberating. They aren't improving anything (just the opposite, screaming random things into the air represents the peak of impulsive behaviour) and the conclusion is: no profitable discoveries in the "containing yourself" department. But who cares? Sometimes you have to let it all out. Dance and shout the worries away. It wasn't a coincidence that Jo met Teddy under the circumstances that she did. They were both of hot tempers, strong wills and free spirits. And they needed to dance it all out out. Despite the absurdity and inappropriate mannerism a foreign eye would most certainly find in their actions.

"There exists no right nor wrong way to express one's self."

***

four.

Laurie is surprised with how much he is enjoying this. It's all very simple. Yet, he feels at peace. He feels like everything inside him has a chance to rest.

It's the fireplace and captivating movement of the fire flames.

It's the soft "click" he discovers every time Meg takes a step. Her shoes are marvellous singers.

It's the chattering of dishes he recognizes somewhere in the background. It must be Beth, cleaning the table after the meal.

It's Amy giggling mischievously after coming up with what Laurie supposes to be some kind of scheme or more accurately, a master plan. He wouldn't know what is it about, but whatever it is, Amy is destined to succeed in it.

It's Jo. This is all because of Jo. He wouldn't have come across the hidden delights of the "uncomplicated" and "boring" if it weren't for her. She takes a seat beside him interrupting the spectacular date he had with the fireplace, rests her head on his shoulder and sighs. It's like this with them. Touching has never been a big deal.

"Beautiful."

That's all Jo says. "Beautiful." He doesn't question it. He understands what she means even though he cannot explain it. He understands.

"Warmth. Choreographed chaos. Lines overlapping. Minds intertwining. Familiarity greeting you "hello". People. Family. Home."

***

five.

She cut her hair. She cut her hair and everything is supposed to be at least a little better if not completely fine. But she can feel the tears forming in her eyes as she's approaching the house. The money in her pocket is so incredibly present. No, the money is not just present in her pocket. Everything those dusty pieces of paper represent carries weight. A weight so grand Jo could swear there is somebody following her, kind of like the money has taken the shape of a person and is now accompanying her, monitoring her every move. What kind of world sees a green, ugly paper and claims of it a metaphor for greatest treasures? And the tears? The tears she cannot comprehend. Why would she care? It's just hair. If anything, she should be bursting with joy right now. She got rid of the womanly burden. But it doesn't feel right. It's all extremely selfish of her. Selfish and thoughtless.

Her sister is... not well. Her father is out there doing all sorts of heroic things and instead of crying over her sins, she's crying over this. For once she does something right, for once the part of her that's wrong different isn't screaming. And then it hits her. It's not just a part of her that's different wrong. It's her. The moment she realises this she steps into the house. Everyone is either too distant or too close to notice all that is hiding underneath her seemingly admirable actions.

Her body is barely handling the atmosphere. It's barely cultivating the facade. But her body is also covered with Teddy's waistcoat and just as she remembers this little fact she sees her best friend right there in front of her. He is not too distant nor too close. He is right where she is.

They have the same hair.

Jo is pulled towards him because this is Teddy and hugging Teddy is like hugging herself. They stay like that for a few moments, their realities greeting each other like two fellow soldiers, finally reunited in battle.

It doesn't make her feel any less hollow. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't alter the wrongs. But it does make it a little better. It offers an assurance. An assurance embodying validity so present, money can do nothing but hold a candle to. An assurance of rational absurdity. Because that's what Jo and Teddy are.

They are rationally absurd.

"It's a childish belief that all twins look the same. There exist many ways to be somebody's twin."

***

six.

She is holding his hand.

He has just told her how he doesn't fit within himself. He has just told her that and she is still here, laying on the floor with him, covered with blankets. She said it made sense. She must have been too tired or something. She must have misheard. She must have.

"Jo, are you there?"

She does not respond. She only squeezes his hand. It's not about the gesture itself. It's about everything the gesture holds.

Promises. Lifetimes. Daylights. Midnights. Setting suns. Growing spirits. Flowery Youths.

She is holding his hand.

" Mutuality sure is a wonderful creation. What is more wonderful though is mutual understanding. Mutuality means the returning of the same. Mutual understanding means accepting and loving of the different."

***

seven.

"I could run away for real this time. Explore the unknown, unravel the mystical. Encounter the miracles. Touch the heavens..."

Her words are empty. They don't mean much. They are empty and desperate. Empty, desperate and meaningless.

Her sister got married. Meg got married and she is talking to herself about running away. The wind is dancing with her again long enough hair, tangling its fingers into her rough curls, reminding her of the countless times it has done the exact same thing before. Mocking her with its endless supplies of stability and comfort. Jo is leaning over the wooden fence, despite the wishes of her dress which keeps complaining about her unlady like methods. Jo honestly does not care about the fancy bridesmaid dress and its wants. If one has the will to climb fences, one shall enjoy the act of doing so, no matter what some piece of fabric might have to say. She is trying to hold back rivers her eyes miserably wish to let flow. She cannot cry. She must not. She has an ongoing bet with Teddy about this. He was daring enough to assume she will turn herself into a paddle today and she ought to prove him wrong.

"What might a lady like yourself be doing here instead of enjoying the jolly ceremony out there in the open?"

"I am no lady Teddy, my being is in no need of such chains."

Laurie doesn't pressure her into answering the question (she would have answered it in the first place if she had the intention to) and steps on the fence beside her. He starts humming a random melody, rhythmically moving his fingers to the sound.  He must be composing something again, thinks Jo and silently envies his creative range. It's been too long since she's written anything worth sharing.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Everything."

"Isn't that a bit too much of things?"

"Oh, it's just a little over the top Teddy, but I believe I can handle it. This mind is no stranger to overcrowding."

The same tree they used to climb when they were younger is now observing them, representing an eternal and haunting reminder of everything that once was. Jo is frightened. That silent way in which Teddy is looking at her is frightening. He is looking at her in ways she longs for to be different and his eyes have too many freshly discovered stories to tell. She is frightened she won't find those stories to be very pleasant.

"Do you remember that day when I told you how I wanted to run away?"

"How could I not?"

"I need to run away again."

Laurie doesn't need to hear it twice. He jumps over the fence and starts running, his arms widely spread, his tie and jacket long forgotten. It isn't real. Jo knows they will never go anywhere. The sun is setting and the lines of separation are clearing up. The sun is setting and challenges, struggles and complications lie ahead. She knows all of this. Yet, she hikes up her skirts like she's sixteen again and follows the path her boy has chosen for as long as she knows how to. Jo and Teddy run through the endless fields of gold, specks of sunlight meeting their bones. Teddy and Jo, Jo and Teddy, high in the sky for one last time before nightfall.

They keep falling over each other and eventually end up wrestling on the grass, occasional screams and consistent laughter adorning the air around them.

The last song of Meg's shoes. The last symbol Amy will ever paint on Jo's hands. The last wide smile of Beth's. The last understood conversation of birds. The last fellow of the trees. The last arrangement of flowers.

The last.

The last.

The last.

"Oh, to live in a world where there are childhoods, fields of gold and raging hearts."

"Grab a coat, leave a note and run away with me."

- William Chapman

#louisa may alcott #little women 2019 #little women fanfiction #laurie laurence #jo march #amy march #my writing #beth march #meg march #taylor swift #folklore #evermore #jo × laurie

[creepy-crowleys]

What type of bender are you?

Your Result: Earthbender

Yeah, that’s... Not entirely surprising all things considered.

Putting the text under a cut because it is incredibly long.

Like I said at the beginning of the quiz, the elements speak greatly to how you approach conflict, inner turmoil, etc, so now how do we define what your element actually says about you? 

At their core, Earthbenders place a lot of value and importance on stability and order, making them quite likely to make personal sacrifices in order to maintain those things in their lives. The best example I can think of is a parent who takes on a job they may not like in order to better support their family. If that parent is of Earthbending nature, this won’t feel wrong to them. They’ll understand that their own personal wants or dreams are impractical to chase when faced with what is really needed to maintain a sense of security and stability. 

This can be a great thing, but it can also be quite detrimental depending on what the Earthbender associates with order and stability. Earthbenders who associate wealth with stability are likely to remain in a toxic environment longer because finances aren’t a problem whereas if they were to leave, money would potentially be an issue. 

It’s important to know here just how stubborn and enduring Earthbenders are. They’ll do a lot, they can take a lot, so don’t try pushing them around. They’re unmovable forces when they’ve made up their minds. 

This being said, Earthbenders living in unstable environments or who simply feel unstable or out of order, will bend over backwards—perhaps sacrificing their own wellbeing or integrity trying to achieve some sense of it. I call these Fractured Earthbenders. 

An example I have of this would be in Euphoria where Fez and his younger brother are shown as poor and trying to care for their sick grandmother. Fez, who’s kind and has a solid moral code (i.e. refusing to sell Rue drugs), is forced to deal drugs and break into homes in order to take care of his home and his family. He does what he must with what is at his disposal, sacrificing his integrity in order to maintain some stability. Another example would be Daisy in The Great Gatsby, who picks financial stability over Gatsby because she’s not guaranteed the same comforts she gets from Tom. Even though Tom is abusive and cheats on her, Daisy stays with him anyways and it makes sense for her to do so. Other Earthbenders are likely to understand the motives of the mentioned examples and heavily empathize with the idea of destroying important parts of yourself for the sake of something you believe is greater in nature. 

It’s true that Earthbenders can be content with what’s already at their disposal, but notably the best of their kind are those who are resourceful without sacrifice. Where a Firebender will sacrifice anything in pursuit of what makes them happy, an Earthbender looks around them and transforms what’s already there. Toph is a primary example of this. When she’s weighed down by her parents, she sneaks away to fight in the arena. When she’s kidnapped and put in a metal box, she invents an entirely new form of bending. 

They can look like Waterbenders at times because of this great ability, but it’s important to understand the differences. Waterbenders act emotionally with their reactions being impulses and improvisations; Earthbenders are thinkers. They wait and listen, searching for the right moment or opportunity to act. They are progressive as an element, working towards solutions that are innovative and don’t disrupt life. I mean just because earth is a stubborn element doesn’t mean it can’t be creative with what it has. 

This isn’t to say that Earthbenders don’t speak bluntly or make impulsive choices. Toph again is a great example. She schemes, she says what’s on her mind to everyone—except her parents. The conflict Toph faces with her family, a Waterbender would have confronted this issue, placing importance in their immediate emotions, but Toph considers the greater picture. She might feel held down and underestimated, but at the end of the day she’s 12 years old, those are her parents, and they’re much more at ease believing what they want to believe. Yes, she inevitably runs away, but it’s still in favour of greater world order: helping the Avatar and she’s still deeply affected by how she must’ve made her parents feel when she left. Other elements would likely feel the same emotional ramifications but would more easily justify the necessity of their actions (i.e. Sokka and Katara leaving Gran-Gran, Hakoda leaving his children, Zuko becoming a traitor, etc). 

Overall, Earthbenders are thinkers, approaching conflict with the knowledge that they may need to make personal sacrifices in order to maintain stability and order in their lives and in the lives of those around them. If this sounds like you, if you’re an Earthbender, my parting advice to you is to remember to take care of yourself as well. It might not feel wrong to ignore your own needs, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t. Order and stability can also mean making your wants known as communication is always key. As mentioned before, without proper expression, disaster is inevitable. 

If you’re an Earthbender who’s already mastered this, well I’ve got nothing else for you. 

If you enjoyed this quiz or got any questions, feel free to hit me with that follow (yes, i am a clout chaser) : ig: @uhlocalghost tumblr: lukawriting.tumblr.com ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/lukawriting Also check out my friends who helped me with this: Raquel - ig: raquelerz Cat - tumblr: katarasocean.tumblr.com 

#.TRANSMIT #.quizzes

[writethelifeyouwant]

You Got Iced- Chapter 2

Pairing: Jared x Reader x Jensen

Rating: T, for language (future chapters will be explicit)

Summary: Inspired in part by the challenge prompt and in part by this conventionhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAHS_RJ5Gac (which is fucking hilarious, go enjoy yourselves there). The reader is attending a Supernatural convention during a heat wave and gets her money’s worth out of her ticket that’s for sure.

Word Count: 3773

Warnings: None for this chapter

A/N: Written for @babypieandwhiskey ‘s Hot as Hell challenge. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the rest of the chapters shoot me an ask! I’ll be posting them over the next couple weeks as I finish them. I’m in the process of moving to a different country so it’s taking me a little longer to write than I’d hoped :) 

Smirnoff Ice finally consumed, Jared and Jensen each reached out a hand to pull you up from your knees. Jensen’s eyes were almost glowing with a kind of subdued excitement that you couldn’t conceive of a reason for. He clapped your shoulder in a ‘job well done’ fashion and then exchanged a glance with Jared while you were straightening your clothes and weren’t looking at them. Jared had the same excitement burning behind his eyes, and gave Jensen a firm nod. 

“What do you say we get you a real drink to wash that crap down?” Jensen asked firmly, like it was more of an instruction than an offer. 

“What?” You spluttered, not understanding what on earth was going on. You looked between him and Jared, hoping one of them would offer up some kind of explanation. Neither did.

“Yeah,” Jared cut in, “we have a cooler of stuff in the green room back there. Come sit down for a bit.” Jared hovered his arm behind your back, as if to wrap it around your waist, but he didn’t touch. In an almost dream-like state you let them guide you towards the direction of their green room, calling a hurried goodbye and thank-you to Rob, Rich, and the band who were being left behind you. 

Upon reaching the green room, which was just a small conference room with two couches in one corner, and a cooler set up on a meeting table, surrounded by other snacks, Jensen bounded to the cooler while Jared continued to guide you to a seat in the corner of the couch. 

“What do you want to drink Y/N?” Jensen called over his shoulder. “We’ve got beer, there’s some wine in a can… I think this is whiskey…” he rifled through the assortment of bottles crammed together. 

“Um, I’m not picky, whatever you guys are having is fine,” your voice almost came out as a squeak because Jared had just lounged himself next to you, taking up the remainder of the couch with his giant giraffe legs. And those giant giraffe legs were now centimeters from your own bare legs, that you had tucked up underneath you in your little corner of the couch. 

“And if he gives you a beer, you won’t make a face?” Jared poked at you with his knee. 

“I resent that implication,” you looked faux-shocked for a moment, making your eyes round and wide, but breaking into a quick smile that crinkled your whole face up like tissue paper. Jensen handed you and Jared each a bottle and thunked himself in the corner of the next couch, the arm he set on the endrest brushing dangerously close to yours. “So, I have to ask, are you in the habit of bringing random strangers back to have a drink with?” 

“We do every now and then,” Jared nodded sagely, as if this was a perfectly understandable and reasonable occurrence, and not your wildest dream come true. 

“Not to sound ungrateful but, why?” You pushed, taking a sip of your beer to cover up your embarrassment. 

“Your question,” Jensen grinned. “I know it wasn’t anything profound but we’ve been doing these things for more than a decade and no one has ever asked us that one before.” 

“We thought the ingenuity should be congratulated,” Jared chimed in. 

“Oh,” you let that bit of information sink in. “Cool.” You took another drink to give your face something to do other than blush with anxiety. 

“Are you a little nervous?” Jared asked kindly, no trace of his earlier teasing left. You nodded, blushing deeper. 

“Don’t be,” Jensen reached forward and patted your forearm bracingly. “Have some more beer, let yourself relax.” You quickly followed his instruction, grateful for the excuse to ingest the liquid courage much more quickly than you had been. Jensen smiled at you, satisfied with your response. 

“So, Y/N, have you come to any conventions before?” Jared asked, drawing your attention back to him. You shook your head. 

“No, this was my first one. I had to live vicariously through the internet, before.” A nervous laugh escaped you as you realised what a fangirl you sounded like. Jared seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. 

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed about watching cons on youtube. You love the show, that’s why you’re here.” Jared’s smile was reassuring and sweet. “We’re fans of the show too, that’s why we do all this stuff. We like being able to share this with people, we like seeing people excited.” 

“It’s incredibly vain really, but someone has to feed his ego. My love isn’t enough anymore,” Jensen mocked, feigning hurt. 

“Hey!” Jared gasped. You and Jensen laughed and you followed his example, taking a further draught from your bottle. 

“Were you planning on going to the concert tonight?” Jensen asked. 

“Oh yeah,” you nodded, much more comfortable discussing your love of music than your love of the two men sitting next to you right now. “I’m probably just as excited for tonight as I was for your panel.” 

“Yeah they put on a good show,” Jensen agreed. “I think Jason’s coming tonight too actually, he texted me earlier he thinks he’ll make it in time.” 

“Sweet, he owes me twenty bucks,” Jared made a small victory fist. The conversation moved around that night’s show, and music more generally, while the three of you made it through your first bottles. Favourite songs were listed, first concerts were recounted, funny memories regaled with smiles. By the end of your bottle you felt more at ease with yourself, letting your body unfold from the slightly defensive position you had been perched in, in the corner of your couch. 

Jared moved to get the next round, dragging a chair behind him on his way back, holding all three beers in his other mammoth hand. You grabbed the bottle he offered you, and your fingers brushed his when he passed it over, sending a burn through your skin that was made all the more jarring by the cold condensation running over the back of your hand. You blushed and glanced down quickly, but then realised how incriminating that looked, and so shifted your eyes back to Jared, pretending there was no reason for you to have broken eye contact. You noticed that Jared’s eyes flicked down to his fingers, and then to yours, for just a moment, before he shook the expression of contemplation from his face so quickly you thought you might have invented it. 

“Is there any particular reason you sit like that?” You had asked the question before you gave yourself a chance to check if you would sound stupid or not, nodding to how Jared had sat with his chair facing backwards, like he had earlier on stage. 

“No,” Jared shook his head, not giving any indication that he thought you were weird or stupid for asking, and you relaxed again. “I used to get in trouble for sitting like this in school, so I think I do it a load now because no one can tell me not to,” he laughed. 

“I just noticed Sam sits that way a lot,” you explained. “I guess I wondered if it was something you did because of Sam of if it was the other way around.” 

“Yeah, no that’s me,” Jared laughed. “We definitely bleed into Sam and Dean more than we realise sometimes. I never even noticed that one before.” 

“Just don’t start overthinking it every time Sam sits down from now on,” Jensen laughed. 

“I won’t be thinking any harder than you. You still have to concentrate on not sitting on Misha’s lap every take.” You actually choked on your drink a little. Jensen leaned forward and thumped you on the back. 

“Jesus Jared, don’t kill her.” You gave Jensen a small thumbs up to indicate you were fine while you continued trying to catch your breath. “He was joking, by the way,” Jensen looked at you seriously, urging you not to misinterpret the situation. “Misha sits on my lap.” 

You narrowly avoided choking on your drink a second time as you burst out laughing. “I am genuinely amazed people get any work done around you two.” 

“Us too, believe me,” Jensen laughed easily. 

“What do you do for work, Y/N?” Jared asked with genuine curiosity, taking another swig of beer. 

“Oh, I don’t right now, I’m in college. That’s why I could come to the convention at all, you guys never came near my hometown, but my college was actually close enough to manage it.” 

“What’s your major?” Jared pressed for more information. You couldn’t fathom the attentive interest shining from his face. 

“I, haven’t actually declared one yet,” you admitted. “I’m chronically indecisive.” 

“Yeah you really must be if you still don’t have a major this late in the game. I didn’t think they let you past junior year without picking one,” Jared bemused. 

“Dude,” Jensen looked at Jared in something between exasperation and abject horror, “I think she might not be as old as we thought she was.” Jensen dragged his beer free hand across his face, pushing his fingers into his eye sockets in a pretty good imitation of Dean’s ‘frustration and despair’ face.  

“Um, I’m a sophomore…” you interjected sheepishly, ashamed that you had been found out. You had admonished yourself in the back of your mind when you had first been tossed the Smirnoff Ice. It was stupid to drink illegally in front of a load of celebrities. Not that you hadn’t drunk plenty before but it was just usually at parties filled with loads of other underage students. Here, you were alone. 

“You’re a sophomore?” Jared asked slowly, cautiously. You nodded, grimacing at your own idiocy. “Which means you’re only…” Jared left his question hanging. 

“Nineteen,” you admitted, curling back into yourself, getting ready for the outburst that must be close to the surface. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jensen’s voice sounded like a hiss, but it was underpinned by something deep, something hungry. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, mortified. The bottle in your hand suddenly felt like it weighed as much as your school bookbag, and you hurriedly looked for a place to set it, settling on the floor. “I should probably go…” You scrambled off the couch, tears blooming behind your lashes as you looked around for your bag and avoided looking anywhere near Jared or Jensen. 

“Sit your ass back down,” Jensen barked without looking up from the hand still plastered over his face. Stunned, you sat back down immediately, now risking a glance at Jensen. 

“You’re not in trouble,” Jared piped up, drawing your gaze. 

“Yeah but we so are,” Jensen groaned, finally pulling his head away from his hand to look at Jared with eyes that seemed to convey a message only Jared was meant to understand. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jared agreed, downing the rest of his drink and swinging off his chair to grab another. Jensen followed suit and drained the last of his beer, accepting a new drink from Jared, a glass of whiskey this time. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said again, forcing the words past the catch in your throat. “This was really stupid of me, I should have said something when you offered me a drink-” Your apology rant was interupted by Jared’s bark of laughter as he sat himself back on the couch next to you, considerably closer than he had been previously. 

“Y/N, we’re not mad at you,” Jared leant forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs, and swirling his drink thoughtfully. “And we’re not worried about giving drinks to someone underage.” That bit of information shocked you out of your panic a little bit. You had figured that was the reason your age had disconcerted them, why else would it? 

“You’re not concerned that I essentially just tricked you both into breaking the law?”

“Y/N, come on,” Jensen scoffed, but good naturedly. “How many times do you think we got wasted before we were 21? It’s what kids do.” He gave you a half smile that only barely covered the grimace in his eyes.

“Well, I’m still sorry I lied,” you said. “I never wanted to get you in trouble.” 

“The beer is not what’s gonna get us into trouble,” Jensen’s smile fought harder this time, and you could see it beat out whatever it was inside him that was making him so uncomfortable. This was the sign Jared had been waiting for, his permission from Jensen to keep going with what they had planned before your age had derailed them a moment. “It’s more the fact that we’re really feeling like old pervs right now.” A twinkle of mischief made its way back to his eyes as he gave Jared a wry smile. 

“Why…” You were entirely confused by Jensen’s comment. No matter how hard your brain tried it could not identify the connection between your previous conversation and why Jensen was now calling himself and Jared ‘old pervs’. Or why he was calling himself that at all. 

“Y/N,” Jared said your name cautiously, savouring its syllables on his tongue as he slowly reached a hand over to your knee. “We didn’t just bring you back here because of your question.”

Jared’s fingers might as well have had live wires hooked up to them considering how far the shock radiated through your body when he touched you. They drew your eyes like magnets, and it took immense effort to look back up at Jared and over to Jensen, who had moved as close to you as his couch would allow him. Jensen reached forward and took your hand, squeezing it comfortingly in his bigger one. 

“I’m going to say this very seriously right now, I need you to believe us one hundred percent,” Jensen looked earnestly between you and Jared. “If you don’t want this, that is okay. We are not expecting anything from you, you do not have to do anything, you are more than free to tell us to shove it up our asses and leave you the hell alone.” 

You still had not said a word, frozen in astonishment between Jared and Jensen, who each had a hand on you. That was probably the only reason you hadn’t jumped up from your spot on the couch by now. Grasping for words you settled on Jensen, breathing deeply before you plunged into the deep pool they were pulling you into. 

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to be incredibly clear about what you’re talking about, and then I’m gonna search this room for hidden cameras and the signal for Rich and Rob burst in with the ‘gotcha’ crew.” Jared and Jensen laughed brightly, and Jared patted your knee reassuringly.

“We’re not pranking you, sweetheart.” Jensen’s voice had dropped closer to Dean’s, found some gravel in his throat to drag over. 

“What we’re asking, is if you’d be interested in having a little more fun with us... somewhere a little more private.”Jared’s mouth curled into a wicked smile, and he pulled your arm towards him, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist, and pressing his glass of whiskey into your hand. You looked down at your hand questioningly. “You look like you could use that,” Jared nodded to the whiskey. You swallowed hard, then raised the glass to your lips and drained it in three burning gulps. 

“Good girl,” Jared whispered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else in the room, focusing on the movement of your throat as you downed the liquor. You heard him though. 

Your eyes flicked to his, wide and nervous, but also incredibly turned on. You shook your head to clear it from the warm haze the whiskey had settled in your cheeks to speak the other big concern on your mind. 

“You’re married,” you stated emphatically. “You’re both married. You talk about how much you love your families all the time! I can’t- I couldn’t…” 

“Yes!” Jensen did a small fist bump with his whispered acclamation. 

“What?” You were so beyond confused at this point it was ridiculous. 

“That was the last test,” Jensen admitted. “If you didn’t say anything about being concerned for our moral and our families we’d have to back out.” 

“That one is Gen and Dany’s rule,” Jared clarified. 

“Wait, they sanction this?” You took a second to evaluate if you thought they were lying then lit on another part of what Jensen had said. “What do you mean ‘last test’, there were tests?” 

“Yeah if Jared picks someone out then we usually ease into it to see if whoever it is seems like they would be into what we want. We weren’t lying to you before, your question was awesome, that was one of the reasons Jared wanted to throw a test at you to check.” 

“And I passed this test?” 

“With flying colours sweetheart,” Jensen grinned. 

“What was it?”

“The Smirnoff Ice,” Jared laughed. “We iced you to see if you would play along with our bullshit or if you would wind up backing out, that’s why I made sure I told you you didn’t have to drink it, you had an out if you wanted it.” 

“But what sealed it was how you dropped to your knees like that,” Jensen cut in, his gaze claiming yours and holding you there. “That’s what we’re looking for in this. Someone who’s up for being a submissive for us.” 

“And we know that’s kind of out there for most people so if that freaks you out or it’s not your thing that’s totally okay,” Jared rushed to cut in, once again making sure you had an out if you wanted it. You were pretty sure you didn’t want one but there was still a crucial hang up that they hadn’t actually answered yet. 

“Okay but, I’m still confused. Genevieve and Daneel are just cool with you guys picking up random girls for one night scenes?” You cringed internally, hoping you were using that word correctly, this wasn’t exactly territory you had experience in, outside of the internet. 

“Yeah they are,” they boys nodded. “And since you seem genuinely concerned that we’re stepping out on them, we have… where’s your phone Jared?” Jensen popped up off his couch and went to grab Jared’s phone off the table holding the cooler, where he had left it earlier, refreshing his whiskey while he was there. 

“Here,” Jared offered you his phone after he pulled something up on its screen. Jensen didn’t settle back on his couch but perched himself on the arm of yours, resting a hand on your shoulder as you pushed the solitary play icon on the black screen. 

“Hi!” Two chipper voices rang out in unison and the screen filled with an image of Jared and Jensen’s wives, sat at what looked like Jensen’s kitchen counter (it wasn’t creepy that you knew that, you told yourself, he’s the one who did the AD interview). 

“We hope you’ve been having a good day and the boys haven’t been giving you too hard a time!” Gen said. 

“We know what a pain they can be,” Daneel mock whispered before taking a sip of wine. “So, yay you, if you’re seeing this then they obviously think you’re something pretty special. You don’t have to feel bad, this is all totally okay with us-”

“Yup, everything is totally in the open, they’re not trying to trick you or us,” Gen assured you through the phone screen. 

“This doesn’t mean we don’t love each other either, so don’t worry about any of that.” Daneel’s smile was incredibly sincere and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. “The thing is, me and Gen, we’ve all talked about this but neither of us is the threesome type.”

“And that was the one thing the guys wanted that we really weren’t up for,” Gen put in. “So we came up with this deal for them, they can have fun with a few people out on the road for conventions and stuff if they make sure to be careful, not pick up a lunatic, and always always make sure that whoever they pick up is gonna keep this to themselves.”

“For obvious reasons,” Daneel laughed. “So, if they’re letting you in on this little secret you’ve passed all the tests!”

“So stop worrying, and go have fun, sweetie,” Gen grinned. 

“Bye!” They waved in unison and the screen went black. 

“Any questions?” Jared asked gently. 

“I mean, in general, a million,” you laughed. “But I guess the big question would be how do you want this to work? Like, what exactly do you want from me?” 

“So you’re saying yes?” Jensen asked. 

“I think I am, yeah. But, seriously, what do you want?”

“Are you comfortable having a threesome?” Jared asked, in a manner that would have been appropriate if he was asking what pizza toppings you preferred. Your heart basically stopped at the image that produced in your head. Your body between theirs, their hands on your skin...

“Yes,” you nod. 

“Are you comfortable being submissive to us?” Jensen asked. 

“Yes… sir?” You threw the title out there on a whim, wondering if that was Jensen’s style. 

“You’ve never done this kind of thing before, have you?” Jensen grinned. 

“Which part? The threesome or the dom/sub stuff?” 

“Well I’m assuming, neither, based on your answers” Jared chuckled, and brushed the backs of his fingers up your thigh. 

“Yeah I- I haven’t,” you blushed and cleared your throat. “I haven’t done any of this before.” 

“That’s okay,” Jared’s voice was pitched barely above a whisper. “We kind of like that,” his eyes glinted, darting up to Jensen in a brief look of victory. 

“You know how to pick ‘em, Jared,” Jensen smiled, brushing your hair back over your shoulder and leaning down to touch his lips to the skin he uncovered. 

“This is really happening?” You breathed. 

“That finally our yes?” Jared asked, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, pulling a shiver from your spine. 

“There’s one more thing I should tell you,” you yanked yourself back into your head, steadying yourself with a final breath before you chance smashing the glass on this illusion. Jared and Jensen backed off slightly to give you space. “When I said I’d never done anything like this I meant it.” You gave them a moment to absorb that but saw they hadn’t quite made the connection. “Like, anything,” you emphasised.

You saw their understanding slam into place.

Tags: @babypieandwhiskey @samsgirl93

#babypieandwhiskey #hot as hell challenge #j2 #j2 fic #spn #j2 x reader #j2 x reader fic #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #spn family #you got iced #getting iced challenge #chapter 2 #jared x reader x jensen #jensen x reader x jared

[alyseofwonderland]

Alyse Reads The Goldfinch, Part 2

What follows is my best attempt at liveblogging. I had the books as an audiobook in hopes that I could keep it from taking even more of my life from me. This was perhaps a mistake. I think I broke Siri trying to make notes. The notes that are rambly are the ones I dictated.

I entirely blame @rollono​ for my suffering. But I am also aware that it seems to give her joy. 

Every time I reference Tara, I am talking about @wellntruly​ who’s own live blog of the book was the only roadmap I had to follow in this waterlogged wasteland of a novel.

Part 1

I thought Tara was making up the Camel-hair coat bit but APPARENTLY NOT.

Architecture has that much to do with the city and or northern Europe, really? I mean, “whitewash” doesn't everybody do that?

Nina ( @proud-librarian​ ) is going to have a lot to say about their descriptions of the Netherlands and Amsterdam in this book. like oh my God!

Theo Deckard doesn't understand how thermostats work.

This isn't satire? I don't understand we're like three minutes in and it has to be satire. right. right?

Who the hell says my mother and I didn't like my father much? like what.... what is this? what am I reading? what is happening? what.... I don't understand.... okay maybe fine whatever

This feels like it should be... I don't know.... satire is the word I'm looking for again. I don't want to just repeat what Tara, said but Jesus. the start of the story is he is rich enough to have a Doorman but not rich enough to afford the fancy private school, and him and his friends break into vacation homes in the Hamptons. what is this? what is this? I just... just.... just write a Jane Austen or Lord Byron novel if that's what you want to do just do that. do that.

My audiobook app just turned itself off in the middle of a passage because it decided I didn't need to listen to Theo talk about whatever he was talking about.

Curse you, Donna Tartt, for also being in the "all things coconut smell like suntan lotion" club. I did not want to have this in common with you.

I am laughing so hard it turns silent into my steering wheel because the audiobook reader makes Tom Cable sound like a surfer dude from the 70s,  and I. cannot. handle. that.

"I like to think of myself as a perceptive person" is basically the way that I know that Theo has about Harry Potter level skills of observation when it comes to the people around him.

Y'all this book would be so much better if Theo actually thought like a 13-year-old that he is supposed to be in the intro part. That would just be peak comedy, which is really what I'm looking for.

Audrey Decker and the Laura Moon from American gods are now the two people that I have ever known to call men "puppy" which I still find alarming, in both cases. Surprisingly they also both die, so I guess more things they have in common.

The longer this book goes on the more clear it is that I am not bougie enough for its contents. ( timestamp 30 minutes)

(GIF BY @rollono​ BY MY REQUEST FOR EVERY TIME THIS BOOK MAKES ME FEEL POOR)

I just can't suspend my disbelief enough to think that a 13-year-old would know this much about their parent's job and be able to ask questions. I'm trying to think of what my dad was doing when I was 13, and I mean I know where he worked, and I know who his boss was, but if you tried to ask me daily issues or me giving advice... oh my gosh. I just can't. nobody talks like this.

I’m making a face akin to Kermit the frog. 

I threw up in my mouth a little at the description of Pippa walking past in the museum.

Did we just describe a 12-year-old girl's arms as marble? is that what just happened? did I just have to listen to that?

Theo has given me a lot of like “Golden State killer” vibes right now with his desire to poke around through all these people's homes and stuff. like this is clearly the Visalia ransacker's motivation in the 70s. I know too much about true crime, that's what's happening right now.

The true-crime serial killer alarms keep going off in my brain.

I know Tara already mentioned how ridiculous the Murphys bed story is but it really is incredibly ridiculous and breaks the tension of the entire scene that is occurring at the time (laughed uncontrollably to the point that Siri typed nonsense)

I get it, Donna, you know things. You do not have list every fire truck to prove it.

Let's take a child to a dinner at 3 am. Really Donna?

Why does Donna insist on giving me the text of signs around whats going on? Why did I just listen to the smoothie specials while an emotional scene is occurring?

Donna, did you just call Mrs. Barough a weasel?  [afronted gasp]

OI!  (me shouting when Donna says that Andy was weird for being lactose intolerant.)

Pukes in my mouth a little at the term 'high verbal'. I get it, Donna, you think you are smarter than all of us stop being a dick.

Donna Tartt would make it to r/iamverysmart in like a minute if she understood how the internet worked.

WHO TAUGHT HER ABOUT FMA?

Okay, so either Donna Tartt knows someone who lost a parent and basing this off them or like went through it herself because I am white-knuckling through the grief bits trying not to have my own trauma response to the situation. Or she wrote Theo with like the exact grief I had. Her incessant need to list things in a room is the only thing between me and a spiral of remembering my dad's death.

ANDY IS A RAY OF LIGHT AND DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE IN THIS FAMILY OR IN THIS BOOK!

Five whole hours before the first sight of Hobie. Like Jesus.

I miss Terry Pratchett.

Hobie thank you for making this book interesting again.

Hobie is now my main squeeze and I won't hear a word against him.

POE DIDN'T INVENT SCIENCE FICTION FUCKING MARY SHELLY DID. DONNA WHAT THE FUCK.

The Hobie part of the story just makes me more sure that a version of the movie should have been without the Baroughers (sp?) and only included Hobie and Pippa.

Any is a murderino. I love this baby boy.

Aw, I love Hobie so so much.

Donna if you call Andy annoying one more time you are gonna catch my hands. (She just referred to his voice as annoying twice in a conversation and I swear to god I will rip this character out of her snobbish clutches she doesn't deserve him.)

Theo on this we agree, I too enjoy Hobie.

Hobie is the only person who belongs in this novel and he's a god damn delight.

SEVEN HOURS AND THE PAINTING HAS COME UP AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN LITERAL HOURS.

Theo straight up using Spanish to fuck over his father is just *chef's kiss.

I can see how much contempt Donna has for Xandra is longer and deeper than this book will ever be.

I am going to suplex Larry Decker I swear to god. (i have a very particular trigger to spouses bad-mouthing the dead one due to personal experience.)

Necco wafers are no one's favorite candy Donna. You can't just say shit like that and expect anyone to believe you.

I have just realized that Donna Tartt has never been to a public library. How do I know? Witchcraft books are never on the shelves. Ask any librarian. They are stolen pretty much the moment we buy them.

I am standing dead in the tea aisle at the store because Theo just thought it would be “gay” to tell the doormen he has known almost his whole life he is gonna miss them.  (hours later I realize this is her backtracking in edits going "shit shit shit I have to add the repression in somewhere for those dumb readers that don't understand art" and I hate it more.)

Mrs. B is ready to physically fight Larry and I would pay real money to see it.

WHY DOES DONNA KNOW ABOUT DRAGON BALL Z?!? Step away from the things I love Donna I don't trust you near my media. (Also why she does reference it she clearly has NO concept of what DBZ hair would even look like to expect me to believe any child could achieve it.)

oh my god, Boris. I'm so happy to see you.

I am happy to report the audiobook narrator does not do an Australian accent for Boris. Thank the lord.

I knew I was going to love Boris but like a few minutes in I adore him.

It's interesting to me that Theo and Boris seem to have received similar amounts of attention/affection from non-parent adults, but while Theo finds it uncomfortable Boris soaks it in.

The Australian part of Boris's accent seems impossible.

*sobbing audibly into my keyboard* Popchyck

Boris you sweet like socialist.

Comrade Boris we need you in this election.

I'm sad he (Boris) doesn't get to go to college and like piss off every yuppie and hippie, and just make Philosophy 100 and Government 250 absolute hell for everyone.

Drunk Boris at Thanksgiving is a gift.

Me listening to this book before Boris: half paying attention, fucking around on my computer, doing chores. Me after Boris shows up: staring at the middle distance determined to listen to every fucking word because this prison sentence of a novel is finally interesting.

James: you said the author is a snob and you aren't enjoying the main character.  Me: yeah James: then stop reading it. Me: No, then Donna and her Anna Wintour knock off hair cut will win. James, frowning and backing out of the room: k sweetie.

6:30 am is too early to hear Theo Decker describe his bed as "our bed"

I WAS RIGHT. Boris belongs in college making every American white kid absolutely furious in every Poli-sci.

Larry Decker calling Theo and Boris his "kids" made my heart skip a beat.

So the nurse notices they don't have vitamins and smell but doesn't call child services. I mean I know that I learned that school nurses are less likely to call CFS on white kids than they are on black kids but like god damn.

The sheer salt of Theo refusing to learn the name of Boris’s girlfriend is so hilarious.

Now *this* is gay.

The truth is Theo is ready to cut a bitch.

Fellas is it gay to do shots while your boyfriend talks about his girlfriend?

Theo trying to set up Boris with like a nice polite girl who won't fuck him is fucking hilarious. This poor baby gay.

Theo (and Donna cuz she writes him) have never heard of learning disabilities and I will legit throw down.

LARRY IS A SCORPIO IN CANON?! I thought that was something from the fan fics. omg Ally hates this.

No one wears white sport coats Donna stop trying to make it happen.

Boris totally knows what's going on with Larry and he's just trying to look out for Theo because he loves Theo but oh my gosh Boris why do you make me feel so many feelings!

Please, Donna, I am begging you to stop telling me what the light from the sun looks like at different times of the day. I just can't take it anymore. Every scene of Theo in Xandra's house does not need the qualifier of what type of sunlight he is seeing. Some times fine. But every time?

My entire stomach just dropped when I realized what Boris has done, and I'm just I'm so sad. this is not how I wanna start my commute to work today.

I have just had my first moments of being very proud of Donna's writing, because long long time ago, in the same chapter, she had the bit about how Xandra will say "apparently" when she's being bitchy with Theo and now in a conversation where Theo isn't paying attention to her she says "apparently" to Larry and I just had to stop and say this, this is the writing I'm looking for Donna. This is clever and interesting and I LIKED IT. Stop making lists and do more of this.

Friendship ended with Book Boris, Movie Boris is my best friend now.

I don't understand how the director and the screenwriter of the film could move who said those lines and then not make it gay. Like, commit to your choice.

My mom: You finish that book yet? Me, angrily: No. My mom slightly worried: do you like it? Me: unclear.

NEW CHAPTER!

Theo, I need you calm all the way down when you are looking at Pippa.

Love this lawyer. I want to be his friend.

God poor Pippa. All the shit she goes through and she still has to put up with Theo's weird obsession.

Theo, you slid right back into the serial killer habits in a second and I want you to stop it.

Oh god, I feel that in my soul. Like "no sir you have it wrong I look more like the parent I like best." (also I do look more like my dad. like way more like him)

I am begging someone to get Theo some kind of hobby or help or something so he stops acting like a victorian ghost.

I am gonna have to get the actual book so I can see what weird spelling is going on with the text messages. I just know its weird. The narrator does it in such a weird voice.

We spent so much time dealing with emotional issues and other whatnot that going back to the bit about the painting feels like a huge tonal shift in the book. I'm like staggering around confused.

Literally no one uses strawberry shampoo.

Love that Theo ‘s final plan is the one Andy purposed an eon ago.

Salty that Theo is getting the cool college experience that Boris would have crushed.  I would have paid good money to watch him make the philosophy department cry.

[kermit in the car gif]

Yo! Theo struggling to deal with school is like exactly my semester after my dad died.  

The adults attempting to force him into different living arrangements is so what we dealt with post my dad’s death.

Grisha! (Russians the only people I trust atm)

Tara was right, Andy's death comes off like a joke!

I gotta say, Crime Theo is my favorite Theo so far.

I don't know which serial killer Donna was channeling to write the parts about Theo being obsessed with Pippa, but it is just so intensely a serial killer vibe I cannot even begin to describe the look on my face; the feelings I'm having. I'm just like this man is going to kill someone. he's going to kill a lot of people. not only that it's going to be a lot of women because he doesn't view them as people. that's what I'm getting from this it's. Theo doesn't think women are people.

If Theo was on reddit he would be part of r/niceguys and r/iamverysmart.

If I have to listen to him drone on about his fantasies of Pippa for one more minute I will kill myself in the baking aisle of Aldis.

HES HOARDING HER HAIR?! HER UNWASHED CLOTHES?!? Please someone put him in jail.

[the sound of me throwing up in the frozen food section as Theo describes Kitsey]

Donna don’t try to act like you didn’t add that foreshadowing yourself about Andy. You crack me up you relentlessly snob.

How is Theo just The Worst all the time?

Theo freaking out because two gay guys know what’s up with him is just *chef’s kiss

Me having seen only the movie: Theo and Boris should get redemption and a romance run away. Me now: [ gif of “Ive had enough of this guy” from IASIP]

I mean I understand that John Crawley was a coward in so many of his directorial choices, but the fact that he didn't put the second meeting of Theo and this Lucius guy into a crowded weird restaurant where they're both getting hit by the waiters as they go past is just the weakest move you could've made. because this makes it so much funnier.

I'm with Hobie.

honestly this book should've just been 20 hours of art crime and like to shave off a good 10 hours of LISTS because that's what 10 hours is. give me 20 hours of art crime. I would love to watch each sale happen that would've been riveting to read but instead.... this.

Bish, you like those earrings or I will cut you.

Theo salty, while Kitsey picks out new china, is so fucking hilarious.

him just like "why are we buying new plates when my job is literally to find plates that were made by craftsmen?!?!” but being too fucking repressed in his bullshit to say anything, so he just making some poor sales lady suffer.

my friend Ally: “Theo’s repression makes everyone suffer is a good summary of the book.”

Alternative version of this book that would have been 8 million times better: Theo gets into art crimes but is also a serial killer. We don't know the second bit but it begins to start dawning on us as women seem to disappear from his social circles and weird hints of thoughts about blood and rivers.  Bonus points if it ends with him on the run from the law with his only vaguely criminal (by comparison to serial killer Theo) boyfriend. We are left to wonder if they will be gunned down in the chase or if perhaps there will be one more body to great the river.

Theo's textbook serial killer nonsense is only comparable to the sheer petty gay energy he gives off.

The power trip he gets from being like "hahaha yes I have bagged the ice princess who wanted nothing to do with me when we were kids" is just so gross and hilarious.

Theo realizing he is not the only sociopath in the room is just *chef's kiss.

Boris, did you really send some guy to just watch your ex?

Boris, I am begging you. You have made Grisha so upset.

Donna shying away from describing Boris comes off, if you don't know who we are talking about, as weird and slightly racist.

You have the internet Theo, you can look up when movies are going to start. You are not living on the moors.

HOW IS THIS BOOK NOT A SATIRE OF AMERICAN PYSCHO FOR PEOPLE THAT HAVE BONERS FOR ANTIQUES?!?

Boris returns. I have almost forgiven him for what he put me through.

Maybe "fuck you" can be our always.

*tries not to cry when I realize that Boris' friends have heard about Theo

bless Aneurin for everything he did for this reunion in the movie.

Why is Boris such a slut? Why will I forgive him for anything?

Is it gay to think about the guy you used to jack off as handsome when you meet each other again?

Genetics means those kids can't be Boris' unless his mother was blonde. (Theo kind of agrees.)

My soul has left my body at the concept of Boris having a wife and kids.

I'm not saying I endorse crime, I'm just saying a mobster front with a pun in the name is really on-brand for me.

Knowing what I Know. That Boris thinks Theo is gonna try to kill him when they go for the "surprise" just makes the whole thing so tragic and sad.

Boris and his dog REUNITED AT LAST. I'm not crying. I'm fine.

Interesting that the next story we hear is about Gyuri's dead "brother" right after Boris says that Theo is "blood of his heart, his brother". Like. I might not be the biggest history buff in the world but I know gay code when I see it.

I mean I knew this was gonna happen, but I can't help but feel personally betrayed by Boris once again.

Donna, stay away from stuff about computers. Your attempts to use them make me, a technology expert, cringe.

Boris like "you don't deserve this dog. I deserve this dog."

"Babe I get that you are a WASP at heart but I need you to fight with me like a Russian now." - Boris to his disaster husband

"Did I lie?" "YES" (me laughing so hard I'm practically crying)

why does no one in this book appear to exchange numbers or like airdrop contact info.

Does Donna think that people only have iPhones?

Ally who is CTRL F reading this book "'Every few hundred pages she's like 'oh yeah, it's modern times...they're texting and there's emojis!' Seriously, there was the mention of emoji's and my soul escaped my body for a minute because it had no tether to time or space" @aces-low​

Off the top of my head, the name that Donna is not saying for this Horace to guy is Volkswagen.

Instead of being in the mob Boris should run an animal shelter.

Boris being Bitchy and jelly when Theo is talking to the German guy is just so cute. You two deserve each other with your weird shit.

If Donna wasn't a coward this book would have had Theo just getting eyeballs deep in art crime with Boris and his associates.

Adding a sin for making me listen to whatever that just was.

Things Donna forgot to list in "girl food": chicken wings, bread, rolls, other types of bread, garlic bread, a bit more bread, maybe cookies, eight more cookies, 20 more cookies, every type of chocolate humanly imaginable, jam, and barbecue ribs.

What do ankles have to do with being attractive?!?!?! this isn't the Victorian age! 

(from Ally re this comment: “I'm now convinced that every day Donna sat down to write this book she spun a wheel with different years on it, and that's the year the book was set that day”)

I didn't mind Kitsey cheating on Theo, because he doesn't even really like her. Until just now, when I realized that Mrs. B knows about it and she's keeping it from Theo, and my heart broke into 1 trillion pieces. she is the closest thing he has to a mother and he realized that she kept it from him, and I should not be crying in my car before my special Valentine night dinner.

James just walked in during a part describing Pippa and goes "Men writing women, huh?" and I had to pause the book, turn to him and say "a woman wrote this" and he just looks at me like 0_0

Mrs. B clutching Theo's hand so he won't leave her alone with Smalltalk-old-man is honestly the cutest thing in this entire book.

Hobie being able to be spotted from a distance at all times! I have a friend who is 6'5" and we can find him in crowds so easily!

Perhaps the funniest moment of this book is Theo saying "if girls loved assholes then Pippa would love me". buddy I'm going to post this entire book to r/niceguys

I WANT MORE ART CRIME! Why did you make me listen to 15 hours of boring nonsense when we could have had ART CRIME!

I deeply enjoy Boris's commitment to being a dramatic goofball, falling to his knees just be annoying.

Movie Boris appears in a dramatic way. Book Boris is just like there and also shoving food in his face and walking out of the party still eating all the food he just put in his cheeks like a chipmunk.

Hobie just like "if you want to run off with your gay love i'll cover."

Theodor Decker you get back in there and make sure that thief stays away from Nicole Kidman she has been through enough already!

Theo, I know that you don't actually have brains for anything besides drugs, crimes, being weird about women, and your own ass, but you could at least listen when people speak.

Theo is such a mess. He doesn't belong in modern times. He deserves to be Jack the Ripper.

I know the narrator is saying croissant the "correct" way. But every single time it happens I'm so fucking confused because who just leans into a french accent that hard for a single word?

Theo offers an actual good idea that Boris is going to use later and they all look at him like he's crazy.

I know "my brand" is "man holding gun" but listening to Boris assemble a gun I'm like "oh goodness I need to lay down". *fans self

Theo suddenly "I have made a huge mistake"

It's interesting to me how reluctant Boris is to make Theo a larger part of the heist. Theo reads it as frustrating but I read it like a kind of care and affection. He doesn't want his friend mixed up in something he can't handle, despite the fact that he wants Theo close so he can get him the painting back.

I see now why the heist in the movie was so fucking confusing. You need the Horst stuff and like a bunch of other nonsense that does not translate well to screen unless you re-write all the connections, which John Crowley was not willing to do.

Really love the "women drop their mark the first time" bit.

me: Theo I swear to god stop being high and sick in your room and go get some actual clothes and medication or at least don't make me listen to so much of it

this book is not 30 hours long. its 15 hours of a book and 15 hours of Donna going "gotta get that word count up or people with think I'm weak". Please, Donna. I don't need to hear this one thing happen for so long. It adds nothing to the tone, the themes, the plot, or the ambiance. You are just writing words for words sake.

The first suicide note was so well crafted that I honestly want Theo to kill himself now. If he can manage to write the others pretty okay I will be happy with this ending.

Don’t think I didn’t notice that the ghost of a dead loved one appeared on Christmas Eve.

I'm sorry who doesn't respond to "didn't you get my text?" with "my phone was dead" instantly?

me listening to Theo throw a tantrum at Boris because neither of them is capable of explaining themselves and like speaking as normal humans do: "It would have been better if Theo died"

Why must I be forced to listen to Donna make these scenes longer because these people don't talk like people?

Thud by Terry Pratchett does a much much better job of asking the question "can we trust our hearts and be the person we want to be?" And it honestly gives a better answer. And has you know, clever writing.

I thought it was like Over. I did. I was like "oh this is it wrapping up" ONLY THERE IS 30 MORE MINUTES AND I WANT TO SCREAM!

Me certain the book is over: i mean maybe this is a good ending

Me seeing i still have 30 more minutes: this is the worst book ever

This book held me fucking captive for over a week and all it left me with was like a few good lines, burning hatred for the main character, and the desire to go into Donna's home and rearrange all her stuff. 

also, I now hate antiques. out of spite.

don't read The Goldfinch. it's not worth it y’all.    

#jabberwockytalkies #words #donna tartt i just wanna talk #the goldfinch #alyse watches stupid movies #theodore decker #boris pavlikovsky #larry decker #xandra #donna tartt #this book beat me up and took my money and my will to put up with men

[crisisengine]

review: TEENS OF STYLE

Teens of Style was Will Toledo (aka Car Seat Headrest)’s 2015 major label debut. However, rather than being a paradigm shift into new, polished studio-recorded material (which would come on the next record, Teens of Denial), it was instead a laptop-recorded look back at the Will’s lo-fi Bandcamp days, compiling together older songs from different projects (mainly his first non-numbered album My Back is Killing Me Baby and the relentless but captivating breakup record Monomania). Now that Will has a firmly established musical reputation outside of the world of Bandcamp and people are enjoying all his work, both new and old, I thought it would be a good time to explore whether this record holds up in its own right. It is more than just a greatest hits compilation? (short answer: ABSOLUTELY YES!)

I like how the refrain from SUNBURNED SHIRTS closes and opens Car Seat Headrest’s first trilogy of major label albums. It’s cool to see how, on this song and on ‘Twin Fantasy (Those Boys)’, the same words and melodies are used in totally different contexts (though, here, we also get the eargasmic “People here bang on the walls late at night…” part). This one oozes dreamlike, summery vibes. I love the psychedelic sound collage at the start and, from there, it’s a pleasure to watch the song build up into the final rock-out ending. 

The opening riff of THE DRUM is perfectly produced. Whenever it appears, sometimes without warning, I get total chills. The guitar tone cuts through like an ice pick. The verses build on this in a muddier fashion but, by the time the vocals come to a head (“The Drum’s in debt!!) I am absolutely won over. Andrew Katz’s spritely drum fills add a fitting contrast to the breakdown and final verse really does give off a bizarre sense of triumph (“he’s got his flag unfurled or something”). I enjoy how, after the opener has gradually drawn us in, this song feels like a decisive overture, a setting of the scene for the album.

SOMETHING SOON is a brilliantly put-together pop song. The verses’ lyrical vignettes of cabin-fever turn into outright desperation in the chorus. It pinpoints these feelings really accurately. The skittering breaks in the verses release themselves into the crashing choruses and outro.  Each section is bookended by the same repeating electric piano chord. The explosion from this pared down moment into the final burst of energy just seems so right.

Like ‘The Drum,’ NO PASSION also rests on an exquisite moment of production. In the final chorus when Will sings “I” in his high register, it’s like a shot through the heart. The sarcastic image of failure in the verses compliments this so well – a succession of half-formed images that seem to suck away all feeling. The comparative earnestness of “I just needed more money, more time, more love” hits home. Our generation often try to rationalise things through sarcasm when really there is something more deeply lacking in our lives. The line “All my desires are so poorly drawn” also really resonates with me.

TIMES TO DIE adds to this album’s incredibly strong selection of opening moments of tracks. The wandering bassline interlocks with the chug of a delayed guitar followed by a single note. There’s something incredibly satisfying about it, especially when you are aware of the sound bath you are about to enter. The psychedelic vocal and guitar interplay in the verses is a highlight – in the first, they mirror each other but, in the second, the guitar skirts around the vocals, carving out new crevices. Their two melodies collide at the end of said verse, in a really affecting way (“but he just keeps singing this song”). The use of horns and cut-up vocals enlivens the sound palette. It feels like a series of ancient rooms with each section or lyrics (“and when they took him to the temple…”) leading somewhere new. A light seems to shine through as the melodies cascade upwards. The “most of the time” section provides nice segue into the “divine council” part which feels like an explosion, with the “is it harder to speak?” section as its fallout. The intermingling of imagery or religion and the music business (“got to believe in the one above me, got to believe that [Vince]Lombardi [head of Matador records] loves me”) is playful and dreamlike.

PSST TEENAGERS is a fun interlude that adds some more immediate energy into a generally fairly meditative album.

The opening verses of STRANGERS leave you inquisitive as to where the song is heading. All becomes clear when the tension of the exclamatory chorus is released in the lovely, picked instrumental break that follows (again enhanced by some inventive drum rhythms). The second section is the real stunner though, starting off cocoon-like and vulnerable but leading into a volatile crescendo. The line “I won’t last too much longer” and its raw delivery convey a sense of enigmatic fragility that I find very affecting.

The keyboard riff in MAUD GONE swamps the mix in the best way possible. I love its distorted, wet tones. The sax solo at the song’s crescendo provides the perfect counterpoint to it, too. Its muscular, sinewy texture cuts through emphatically in the context of the album’s drenched sound palette. As the notes reach up, the instrument seems to become an incredible, cathartic pressure valve, leeching out a lot of confused unspoken feelings as the notes reach up. The metaphor of “a full moon every night” is enticingly simple but also utterly apt for the feelings it describes.

LOS BARRACHOS has an infectious opening synth lick. As it bubbles under the verses, I’m just waiting for it to return with its full force. The wry but combative tone of the song’s opening (“let’s […] crush the grapes beneath our feet/ like some heartbroken Bacchus”) reflects Will’s desperate attempt to rekindle this relationship, to change his situation, to turn sadness into hedonism. These illusions can’t last, however. The riff does not return. Instead the song melts into a kind of broken, abject despair. “I miss you.” The disintegration of the song’s subtitle to just “Don’t have any hope left” is heart-breaking. It’s the most visceral portrait of a breakdown I’ve ever heard.

BAD ROLE MODELS, OLD IDOLS EXHUMED is my favourite song title ever. The track (the only new song written for Teens of Style) feels like a self-aware reflection on the nature of this album. The images of a figure from the past who once meant a lot but is now insignificant in the life of the narrator seem to tally somewhat with the way in which the album is made up of songs taken from previous projects. Past relationships, and the hurt they have caused, are dismissed and rationalised into triviality and insignificance. The horns and the final refrain make for a strangely celebratory ending, like a forced annulment of regrets (“You probably looked like an idiot in that hat!”) in the face of a resolve to move forward. This forced, performative break with the past, however, seems only to emphasise how the wounds are still very much open, just as the songs here, despite their pre-dating of the album itself, lose none of their emotional potency.

The chorus of OH, STARVING! is deliberately contradictory but also feels very comprehensible. The boredom of a life that seems superficially better as, opposed to a past delineated by clear highs and lows, is a recognisable feeling. Sometimes things being superficially ‘ok’ just makes you painfully aware of how far away you are from the things you really want in life, while impending pressures can obscure this, making any brief moments of solace much sweeter. In the context of the album, this also seems to imply a sense of nostalgia with regard to the events and feelings laid out in these songs. Even though this album deals with confusion, depression and heartbreak, in hindsight, the potency and simplicity of these feelings (given the separation of time between the writing and re-recording of these tracks) could almost seem preferable to the confused present. Yet, by the end of the song, Will seems to finally be able to let go. Saying “goodbye” to all his “secret files” seems almost ritualistic, like he is purging himself of the confusions of the past and moving on. I like this version of the song best because of the moment, at the very end, when the delicate piano chords and doo-wop harmonies are replaced by raw, shredding guitars and a single voice singing “goodbye” so distortedly the word is almost incomprehensible. The raw power of this moment seems to work up a head of steam, like an exorcism of the kinks and bruises of the past, in favour of something.

There isn’t Car Seat Headrest album I’ve heard that I don’t love. However, I think Teens of Style undoubtedly ranks among the best of them. It might just be one of my favourite albums of all time. It does lack the conceptual charge that powers Twin Fantasy, Monomania, Teens of Denial and even, to some extent, How to Leave Town. However, despite their lack of a heavy overarching theme, these songs flow together really well. The album feels cohesive thanks to its spring-reverbed production aesthetic (which reminds me of being indoors on a hot summer day) and the smaller themes that recur throughout (resentment of the past, confusion in the present, getting signed to a major indie label). The tweaks to the lyrics of many of these songs make the creative intent yet more apparent.

I also think this album definitely does not negate the albums from which these songs are taken. I love Monomania and My Back is Killing Me Baby and, if you haven’t listened to them you should definitely do so right now! There are bunch of essential songs on both albums that are not on this one (‘father, flesh in rags,’ ‘Souls,’ ‘happy news for sadness,’ ‘Sleeping with Strangers,’ I could go on…). However, for me, the songs on this album benefit from being recontextualised and, in certain cases, from being rerecorded. It’s great to be able to experience the stronger standalone songs from these previous records in the context of album that lets them breathe a little more, outside of context. 

The most obvious example is ‘Los Barrachos’ which I think works amazingly well as the climactic track for this album. On Monomania, placed somewhere in the middle, it felt more like a just another rung in the downward spiral of heartbreak. On Teens of Style, it has room to breathe and can finally reach its full potential. Similarly, ‘Maud Gone’ benefits hugely from its re-recording. The crisp yet bedraggled sound palette of the new version feels much more fitting than the original and, in the context of a more emotionally diverse album, the catharsis it brings is more powerful (especially coming after ‘Strangers’).

Teens of Style might be made up moments from the past, but it more than proves its worth as a cohesive album that is great in its own right.

#car seat headrest #teens of style #review #will toledo #Andrew katz #1 trait danger #sunburned shirts #the drum #something soon #no passion #times to die #strangers #Maud gone #los barrachos #oh starving! #Jacob bloom #monomania #my back is killing me baby #starving while living

[theonewiththefanfics]

Pinky Promise (one-shot)

Synopsys: Even though the rest of the Avengers are enjoying their summer, the Reader and Bucky get sent out on a mission in the middle of Siberia. What should have been an easy in-and-out, turns into them becoming stranded. And even though they both seem to be have gotten out pretty unscathed, one of them might be lying and is in mortal danger.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: fluff with some teensy bit of angst

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, so nothing unusual coming from me

Word count: 2775

   It was summer. Everywhere was summer. Pinacoladas were being drunk, bodies were getting tanner or they cooled off in the ocean, sea, lake, wherever they got the chance to. Yet here was Y/N and Bucky- stuck in the middle of a snowed-over Siberian forest, trudging their way to a safe-house. Oh, and it didn’t hurt that the rest of the Avengers were relaxing in Bora-Bora.    “When I get back, I’m taking a month off and leaving those assholes behind as I go to Bali,” Y/N muttered through chattering teeth as she tried to see something through the heavy snowfall.    “Can I come?” the man threw the girl an amused smile. He didn’t necessarily like the cold, but it didn’t bother him the way it used to.    “Be my guest,” she replied, pulling her furry hood over her head. “As long as those idiots ain’t coming. And we’re taking Stark’s credit card.”    “Wasn’t planning on paying with my own money. Not after this.”    Y/N snorted despite the inability to feel her toes, nose or any protruding limb.    It was supposed to be an easy in-and-out mission from a HYDRA base. Nothing they hadn’t done before and seeing how neither had gone on one in a long time they were put on a jet and flown there. Twenty agents, Fury had said. A day or two max, Bruce had promised. Instead, they had been surrounded to what rounded up to a hundred and fifty agents, barely gotten out alive, Y/N sporting a dislocated shoulder and a massive bruise forming on her ribs and add to that, their jet had been blown up. Obviously, the pair immediately contacted Stark and SHIELD, but when they informed the two Avengers about an incoming snow storm and the fact that their specific part of the woods would be unreachable, it really just put the cherry on the top.    Tony had said there was a hidden cottage about twenty miles from the base, so Bucky and Y/N had set off on their journey. With the girl’s injuries, it complicated things and the fact she refused any help from the super soldier was an added bonus.    “You know, you can go ahead. I know you’re only trailing behind because I can’t walk as fast as you.”    “If you would allow me to help, we wouldn’t be moving at a snail's pace,” he had smirked at her, right as the first snow fluttered to the ground.    “Bite me, Barnes.”    “Any time, babydoll.”

   That had made Y/N smile. They had formed an incredibly close relationship since the second they met. Teasing was a must,  but it never overstepped a boundary, always with the intention of fun, not harm.    She had been a new addition to the team, almost right after Bucky had been introduced. Literally, two days later, in comes Y/N Y/L/N, strolling behind Bruce and Tony, chatting with Scott Lang and Hope van Dyne.    His blue eyes only saw her. There was something fresh about the girl, something pure and untainted. Immediately Bucky wanted to know her, wanted to explore why his heart thumped faster with every second that he gazed upon the woman. Yet the dark thoughts, the blackness pressing upon his mind, told him no, she wouldn’t want to know him, hell, probably wouldn’t want to be associated with the ex-Winter Soldier in any capacity. So he admired her from afar.    Even though he was cold and distant towards her, she responded with affection. And Y/N didn’t give him much choice in how they were going to communicate, changing his mind on the third or fourth day completely.    Bucky had been lounging on one of the expensive leather sofas, watching a show called ‘F.R.I.E.N.D.S’, trying to catch up on what he'd missed in pop culture during the years when suddenly had Y/N slipped up next to him on the couch. Bucky didn’t move nor did he say anything, receiving the same reaction from the girl, though what he did not expect was her sliding her hands around his metal arm and taking it between her palms.    He pulled in a harsh breath, head whipping to look at her, but something in the way her Y/E/C eyes glinted made his body relax. Y/N put a finger to her lips in a ‘shh’ motion and once again took a hold of his palm. Bucky felt every little touch of her skin, setting the rest of his body aflame, because for once in his life, somebody else apart from Steve was touching him without disgust or fear or the intent to harm. At least not harm him. Because as it turned out her movements with the vibranium were deliberate as it caught the sunlight and she positioned the plates where the beam bounced off directly into Sam’s eyes.    Bucky had to contain a snort seeing what Y/N’s plan had always been and instantly a warm feeling spread through his chest. It was something akin to content, to peace. His heart rate slowed down and all the bad thoughts disappeared. Just from a single touch. Ever since that day he craved for Y/N’s presence, to have her glide her fingers against his, to feel her soft skin on his or simply be near her.    The crunch of her boots upon the snow brought him back to where they actually were.    “Buck, really, just go. We’re almost halfway there, so I’ll be fine.”    “I’m not going to leave you behind. The night is almost over us, so you’ll need protectin’.”    “What? You think I can’t hold my own?”    Bucky shook his head, smiling down at the woman. “I know you can. Have seen it in person. Though if a bear comes, don’t want to sound too cocky, doll, but I don’t think you could take it.”    “Pff, easy. I’ll just whine until it starts to regret it decided to eat me.”    “Well, you wouldn’t have to fight off a bear, if you just allowed me to carry you.”    “I said,” Y/N gritted through her teeth. “Bite me.”    Bucky huffed what now had turned from amusement to annoyance. “What do you have against me helping? No one would think you’re weak.”    “Buck, it’s freezing cold outside. You pick me up, I might just fall asleep and die. I need to move my body, because at this point, I can’t feel the shoulder, and I don’t think that’s a good thing.”    “Don’t worry, it’ll hurt like a bitch when I pop it back in.”    She stuck her tongue out at the man. “How generous of you.”    They walked twenty more minutes in silence, but then from the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Y/N shudder. At first, he thought it was just the cold getting to her, eyes having completely adjusted to the pitch black sky of the night but then she stumbled and fell into the deep snow.    “Doll?” worry instantly colluded his mind. In a matter of seconds, he had turned her over and he was plunged into a nightmare. Her face had gone at least three shades lighter, an ashy colour having settled underneath her closed eyes, but what was worse- Y/N wasn’t breathing. No little puffs of air escaped her nose or mouth.    “No, no, no, no, no,” Bucky exclaimed, ridding her from the winter clothes to assess what had happened. There was no way that the shoulder could’ve made her lose consciousness, let alone the ability to breathe.    He ripped open the front of her tactical suit only to be greeted by a stream of blood. There, right underneath the bulletproof sports bra was a bullet hole, scarlet spilling out of it.        “Come on, Y/N, you absolute idiot!” a stream of profanities echoed throughout the silent forest as he pressed down onto her chest, starting CPR. When his lips touched Y/N’s to push air into her lungs, it was not how he had imagined it. Butterflies invaded his stomach, not because of excitement, but because of terror, his eyes were wide, not because of the impossibility of the girl reciprocating, but because he was watching her chest rise and fall with the motion. After a full-blown minute of doing so, her body shuddered, mouth pulling in a painful breath of air. Bucky was on the verge of crying, yet there would be another time for rejoicing.    With trembling hands, he picked up the girl and ran. There was no time for Bucky to stop the damage the bullet had caused, nor was it the place, so with fear pumping through his veins every step of the way, the ex-Winter Soldier dashed through the darkness as fast as he could towards the safe house.

***

   The cottage was a little bit run down, but if Stark had anything to do with it, it’d be occupied by the top-tier technology. And the billionaire did. The second Bucky walked inside lights went on and F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice invaded his ears.    “Good evening, Mister Barnes. Congratulations on the successful mission.”    “Thanks, F.R.Y. Now tell me where the first aid kit is. Also, monitor Y/N’s vitals. Anything goes out of proportion, I need to know,” he said placing her down on an expensive looking leather couch.    “Of course.”    With the A.I. guiding him around the house, Bucky gathered every medical supply he could, starting from gauze and stitching thread to a some nano-foam Tony had invented a little while before his showdown with Thanos. It had saved the man’s life on Titan, so the super soldier could only hope it would work in this situation as well.    “Why do you always have to be such an idiot? Why in the hell would you not tell anything? God fucking damn it, Y/N, you absolute git,” the accusations and questions Bucky muttered underneath his breath while his whole attention went to the now clogged wound.    He knew how to safely remove a bullet, how to stitch up things and do it in a way that avoided infections, but he wasn’t a surgeon with any kind of expertise in mortal wounds. In his HYDRA days, they only thought him about minuscule things. Anything that even had a whisper of potential death was disregarded. After all, anyone who couldn’t pull through wasn’t worthy nor strong enough to be part of the great organisation. Luckily Bucky had always valued human lives, especially the ones of who he cared for.    “Stay with me, doll. I can’t lose you.”    Sending a little prayer to whoever might be listening upstairs, he disinfected and removed the dried up blood. Immediately a small stream started to pour out again, so he pressed the white gauze against the hole, turning it scarlet in seconds.    “What’s the damage F.R.I.D.A.Y?”    “My scans show that the bullet seems to have not penetrated any vital organ nor slashed any major artery. However, the bleeding is major and could result in death.”    A hologram appeared in front of Bucky’s face of what he could only describe as Y/N’s blueprint. Every organ and artery was shown, every bone, ligament and muscle was highlighted. By a narrow slice, the metal had missed Y/N’s lungs and the man himself sighed in relief. Now the most important thing was to stop the bleeding.    He didn’t bother pulling it out, most times no one did and the A.I.’s x-ray clearly showed other little souvenirs from battles Y/N had gotten injured in.    “If I leave the bullet in, will it cause any permanent damage or worsen her recovery?”    “If everything goes accordingly and she does not injure or overwork herself, Miss Y/L/N should be just fine.” "So maybe. Okay," he huffed and leaned in.    Trembling hands grasped onto the can of foam and unclasped it. Just to be safe, he treated the nozzle with some disinfectant before pushing it inside of the wound.    “I’m so sorry if this hurts you, darling.”    But she didn’t even flinch as the nanotech entered her body and started patching things up. It was in greyish colour which Bucky was not a fan of, but when he removed the red bandage he stared in awe as the skin moved together, leaving only a barely visible scar, a few shades lighter than Y/N’s own.    “How’s she lookin’?”    “Perfectly stable, Mister Barnes.”    His whole body sagged in relief and he rested his forehead against Y/N’s, noticing how even only after a few minutes of being treated, her cheeks had returned to their healthy glow.

***    While Y/N rested, Bucky took a quick shower and changed out of the bloody gear. There were three bedrooms in the place, wardrobes fully stocked with clothes in all different sizes and for different occasions, though he had no idea what someone could use an evening gown for in the middle of nowhere.    Once he came downstairs, gently he popped Y/N’s shoulder back and put a makeshift sling around her arm, securing it. The wood had just barely started crackling in the fireplace when Y/N slowly opened her eyes.    “Hey there, doll,” a gentle smile washed over Bucky’s features finally able to look into those Y/E/C orbs that had enthralled him so much.    “Hey, Buck.” Y/N’s tone was soft as a feather and he swore he saw love shine in her gaze.    “How ya feelin’?”    “Like a bulldozer ran over me and Hulk bashed my head against a wall, but other than that- perfect.”    Bucky threaded his fingers through her matted down hair before leaning against the couch, placing himself on the ground in front of the girl so she wouldn’t have to strain.    “You scared me. Like really scared me. I’ve never felt so helpless when you collapsed. Why- why did you not say anything?” he choked out, tears threatening to slip down his cheeks.    “I-“ Y/N huffed before pressing her palms against the couch to sit up, “I honestly don’t know. At first, I didn’t even feel it. The adrenaline and everything that was going on around us… it was all clouding my head. Hell, I didn’t even feel it while walking. I think I was just so cold to the point nothing mattered. It was only when you mentioned something about me fighting a bear I realised things were not at all peachy. But we were just so close, I thought I could pull through it until we got here. Guess, I was wrong.”    “Severely,” Bucky snorted through a sob. He stood up on his knees and leaned, in. His mind screamed at the man to stop whatever he was about to do, but the ex-Winter Soldier had run out of fucks to give. With a small touch to her cheekbone, his nose caressed hers before their lips met.    It was sweet, tentative, a barely-there caress, but it expressed more than a thousand words ever could. Her own hand traced Bucky’s jawline, nails scraping along his scruff before settling on the nape of his neck, making him smile into the kiss as Y/N seemed reluctant to break apart.    Only when it was apparent she was struggling for a breath, did Bucky disconnect, followed by a long whine from the girl. She tried to pull his face back towards her own, but he laid a palm on her chest, making her drop back onto the couch.    “I’ve had enough of you not breathing for one day. Don’t wanna be the cause of you getting put seven feet under.”    Her adorable pout made him chuckle, before Bucky stood, picking Y/N up like she weighed next to nothing and sat back down together, her head resting underneath his chin.    “Pinky promise you won’t die on me ever again?” Bucky extended his waiting finger for Y/N to grasp it.    “Well,” she whined out, cheek resting comfortably against his chest, but it was cut off by a giggle as he dug his fingers into her sides. “Okay, I promise, if you stop doing that.” Her laughter encased them, trapping the pair in a little bubble of happiness.    When Y/N finally linked her pinky with Bucky’s, it was like a boulder had rolled off of his chest. Such a simple and in all actuality meaningless motion, but it held such weight, such promise and care.    “I love you, Buck,” her warm lips pressed against his knuckles.    “I love you too, doll,” Bucky pecked her nose before burying it in her Y/H/C hair. “So fucking much.” "I guess being stuck is not gonna be that bad." He lifted an eyebrow at her. "We still going to Bali, right?" "Oh, definitely," and their happiness echoed through the cabin as the two people in love let their minds be washed clean of everything that wasn't their little moment of peace.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger

A/N: I have barely two weeks left before I go back to uni and I’m stressing out :D

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[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Secret-Diary’s Annual Awards Show, 2018

Here we are. Xmas is over for another year and the last dregs of 2018 are circling the plug-hole of time like inedible week-old gravy. Soon, the drain-unblocker that is New Year will be emptied on top of it, disposing of it forever… and nobody will be very sorry. It’s always possible that, in the last four days of the year, something incredible will happen. Maybe Will Self will invent time travel and go back to the early 1600s to become Shakespeare. Maybe Theresa May’s face will swing outward like a poorly-secured cupboard door and reveal an electric aquarium where a panel of Sea Monkeys control all her movements and decisions. Barring both of those two events, however, I think its safe to say that 2018 was a complete write-off.

Mainly, this year has felt like an unnecessary and unwanted continuation of 2017. 2017: Part Two, if you like. Brexit continued to drag on like a wounded moose looking for a place to die. The idiotic decision to cast Whittaker as Doctor Who, made in 2017, was enacted here in 2018, causing waves of uncontainable ennui to sweep a nation. The Space Elevator still remains resolutely unbuilt and Elon Musk (mankind’s Token Sensible Person) doesn’t seem overly inclined to do anything about that just yet. In short, we’re standing at the far edge of a year that has been, by and large, a complete and total waste of everyone’s time… especially mine. I’d normally leave my End Of Year Awards for New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day, but fuck it. Almost everything else this year has been  vaguely disappointing, so let’s stick to the theme. We’ll ejaculate these awards out early and get it over with. You all know how this works by now: I make up some tenuously-related categories and proclaim a cultural event or piece of media the winner according to the dictates of my own diseased logic and the voices in my head. Let’s just crack on.

THE AWARD FOR BEST DVD OR BLU-RAY RELEASE Normally, I try to make the category names funny, but the best DVD/Blu-Ray released in 2018 was the remastered Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Boxset. Somebody cleaned up a six-episode sci-fi show from the 1980s and stuck a bunch of special features on it and it was instantly better than anything actually produced in the present day. That’s funny enough in itself, assuming you find cultural atrophy funny.

THE INSTANTLY-REGRETTED WANK AWARD FOR BEST MOVIE STARRING A SEXY FISH MAN … Goes to The Shape of Water, which may actually have come out last year. I also really enjoyed Aquaman, too, but I can’t pretend it was a superior piece of film-making. You know what, though? The fact that there are two movies about sexy fish men having non-conformist adventures says something important. It says “OUR CG ANIMATORS HAVE FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO DO WATER, SO LET THE GOOD TIMES FUCKING ROLL!”

THE BERNIE MADOFF AWARD FOR MOST SUSPICIOUS DISCREPANCY … Goes to Doctor Who’s score on Rotten Tomatoes. Yeah, you knew you weren’t getting through this drivel without having to listen to my opinions on Doctor Who again, so let’s just get it out the way early. Critics gave the most recent series of Whittaker-flavoured Who a 94% rating. Fans gave it 31%. So people who can’t risk saying something culturally unacceptable because they could be fired loved it, while people who cared enough to review it unpaid and had no consequences to fear fucking loathed it. Let’s try not to blame Whittaker, for this though. It’s actually Chibnall’s fault, with his determination to minimise the sci-fi elements in the world’s most beloved sci-fi show. And the BBC’s fault for hiring Chibnall. And all our faults for not dragging every single BBC exec into the streets and whipping them to death years ago. Jodie Whittaker casting was a point-scoring ploy on behalf of a cynical organisation desperately trying and failing to be progressive, but never forget that it’s just the tip of an iceberg made of frozen penguin shit.

THE SPECIAL AWARD FOR RUINING AN ENTIRE NATION … Goes to Donald Trump, who is a fucking arsehole of truly unprecedented proportions. At the time of writing, he’s currently throwing a massive temper tantrum and has shut down entire branches of government just because the real politicians won’t give him the money he needs to build his preposterous, unworkable and illegal border-wall. Thanks to this one pathetic tool’s incalculably large ego, America is currently in a state of abject chaos.

THE AWARD FOR MOST NEEDLESSLY HARROWING TV SHOW Did you see The Haunting of Hill House on Netflix? If not, congratulations: you might need slightly fewer anti-depressants than people who did. A spooky romp through the lives of people who used to live in a haunted house turns into an uninterrupted misery binge when it starts digging into their feelings. One of them is a drug addict, one of them is depressed in a dangerous and unstable way, one of them has issues with intimacy, one of them is a writer reliving his own miserable past for a living and one of them is a straight-up, 24 carat arsehole. Oh, and they all sort-of hate their beleaguered father for not saving their mother (who was mad as a tin of pigeons) from Death By Ghost. Thanks, Netflix. 2018 wasn’t a deep enough well of despair already.

THE AWARD FOR MOST UNDERAPPRECIATED HUMAN BEING … Goes to Jeremy Corbyn, who spent his Xmas dispensing broth and socialist good-vibes in a soup-kitchen. He’s constantly attacked and ridiculed in the media… possibly because the British media isn’t used to dealing with high-ranking politicians who aren’t psychopaths. Also, he once accidentally high-fived Dianne Abbott's tit, thereby gifting the world the most entertaining five seconds of television in history.

THE NAKED BRIAN COX AWARD FOR MOST BEAUTIFUL THING EVER … Goes to Sapphire and Steel, a TV from the 70s that I recently rediscovered. Trying to explain it in normal English will undoubtedly make me sound like a man whose brain is slowly eating itself, because it defies all ordinary conceptions. Nevertheless, I’ll try. It’s about two elements from the period table who are also people from a higher dimension who handle anomalies in space-time using methods that make perfect sense but aren’t necessarily clear to the audience. This prevents entities that often manifest as patches of light or shadow from breaking into time from outside and stealing people or feeding off the resentment of the dead. Make sense? Well, it will when you watch it, and you absolutely should watch it.

THE NAKED STEVE BUSCEMI AWARD FOR MOST EYE-GOUGINGLY HORRIBLE THING EVER This is actually a tie between that time Theresa May attempted to dance and… pretty much the entire year itself. If 2017 was like watching a man fall off a cliff, 2018 has been like watching him hit every outcropping of rock as he plunged downwards towards a merciless ocean.

THE AWARD FOR MOST SLATHERING BETRAYAL OF A FAN-BASE … Goes to Fallout 76, which, by all accounts, turned the bleak, lonely world of Fallout into a perfunctory MMO with all the beloved series’ characteristic and recognisable features sucked out or watered down. A great game series screwed over in the name of chasing casual gamers. Oh, when will the industry learn. Never. The answer is never.

THE SHATNER AWARD MOST DRAMATIC OVERREACTION TO AN UNDERWHELMING SITUATION … Goes to the UK tabloid ‘news’ papers, who went into swivel-eyed paroxysms of outrage and confusion when a handful of drones brought air traffic to a halt at Gatwick Airport almost a week before Xmas. They squealed angrily about how ‘possible terrorism’ and how Xmas had been ruined for thousands of people (despite the fact that they were perfectly entitled to just get on other flights a day or two later). It later turned out that there hadn’t necessarily been any drones, and that air traffic had been brought to a standstill because the police got confused and mistakenly thought that there were.

And that’s more or less it. Lots of other things happened in 2018, but I never made any concerted effort to remember them, beyond noting that they were all pretty bloody stupid. Roll on 2019. I have no reason to believe it will be any better than 2018, globally speaking, but maybe I’ll finally buy a copy of Red Dead Redemption 2 and stop caring.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #the year in ennui

[novachimerablog]

Why Did I Pick These People For My Video?

Denzel Washington

Denzel is in an inspiration to me because of how seriously he takes his craft. Denzel never aspired to be an actor when he was young, and it was only when he was down on his luck and at his lowest point, where he decided to take the risk and pursue acting. Once he committed himself to the art, he put his heart and soul into being the best actor he could be and has now gone on to be in some of the best movies of all time and win two Oscars. He has also used his fame to spread a positive message to others, about hard work, consistency, and discipline, which is why I often listen to his interviews and speeches intently.

Serena Williams

The reason I chose Serena Williams for the video is because she is the perfect example of hard work from a young age, leading to success in the future. Serena didn’t start off with much, but she worked hard and trained many years to reach the very highest level. She broke down so many racial barriers in Tennis and in sports in general, simply by being as dominant as she is. She’s is now looked as one of the greatest tennis players of all time, as well as one of the greatest athletes of all time.

Elon Musk

The reason I chose to include Elon Musk in my video is because he is one of the greatest thinkers of our time. He uses his money to constantly to try to create cool and innovative things. He is a man who thinks in the future and want’s to push us into a greater tomorrow. He has already left a massive footprint on the world and looks to only increase that footprint as time goes by, with projects such as Tesla, Space X, The Boring Company and Paypal. His mind is truly like no other and he inspires me to think bigger and not limit myself to others expectations.

Bruce Lee

The reason I chose Bruce Lee for the video is because of his philosophies on life as well as his teaching’s on martial arts. Bruce Lee became an icon through his many successful movies but was also a teacher to many and inspiration to millions. Even though his time on this earth was short lived, he made a massive impact with the time that he had, and no one has been quite able to replicate his impact on cinema and martial art’s since.

John Lennon

The reason I chose John Lennon for the video is because he was someone who came from a tough background and became not only one of the greatest musician of all time, but also one the greatest thinkers of his generation. Through his music, he spread a message of peace, love and prosperity and went on to create of the greatest and iconic songs of all time. He could easily could have played it and made simple music, with a safe message, but instead a lot of the time he challenged listeners and helped revolutionize the sound music.

Robin Williams

The reason I chose Robin Williams for the video is because of how the legacy he left behind in the comedy world as well as the acting world. Robin is such an influential figure because of his bright personality, his many iconic performances and his effect on those he worked with. Despite his many demons, Robin always tried his hardest to make those around him smile, which was such a selfless act for someone who was clearly in pain for many years.

Conan O’Brien

The reason I chose Conan O’Brien for the video is mostly because of his part in the early years of The Simpsons. In my opinion, when Conan was part of the writing team for the Simpsons, that’s when the show was at it’s best. When he was part of the writing team, The Simpsons was the best TV show on the air and was a strong contender for being the greatest show of all time. Conan has also gone onto being one of the best talk show hosts of all time and is still providing audiences with funny, smart and witty content still to this day.

Will Smith

The reason I chose Will Smith for the video is because of how he transitioned from being the first rapper to win a Grammy, to being a TV star, to being a blockbuster movie star, to being a two time Oscar nominee. Will Smith is a very multi-talented person who take his craft very seriously. He is one of the hardest working people in the industry to date and his way of thinking Is truly inspiring. He doesn’t consider himself to be “talented” but rather he sees himself as “skilled” because he works constantly to be the best at what he does, which is very inspiring, especially since I grew up on his TV shows and movies.

Dave Chappelle

The reason I chose to include Dave Chapelle in my vide is because of his evolution as a person, as well as a comedian. At the height of his fame and popularity, he rejected fifty million dollars and moved to Africa, because he longer wanted to be a puppet to the TV industry. Him rejecting this money and moving away led people to thinking he had gone crazy, but in actuality, he realized taking that money would have cost him soul and his integrity. Dave rejected the money and spent many years finding himself, learning new things and enjoying his freedom. He then came back to the mainstream and has returned better than ever. He’s funnier and he’s wiser now. It takes a very honourable person to reject a large amount of money, if that money comes with going against your beliefs and morals. I think a lot of people would have taken the money, and I think that’s what makes Dave so special in my eyes.

Kobe Bryant

The reason I chose Kobe Bryant for the video is mostly because of his legendry work ethic and his unrelenting passion to win at all means. Not many people on earth wanted to be successful like Kobe. He was a person who took his craft very seriously, almost to the point where he had it worked down to an exact science. Whenever Kobe spoke, you could hear how much he loved basketball and how much respect he has for the sport. Kobe is the epitomizes what it means to have an unbridled passion for something. Only the luck ones are able to find something they’re so passionate about, that they will put their heart and soul into it every day, and that was Kobe. And even after retirement, Kobe kept working, he became a creative and used his legendary work ethic to create interesting projects away from basketball, which even resulted in him winning an Oscar.

Nelson Mandela

The reason I chose Nelson Mandela for the video is because he truly was a freedom fighter who fought for what he believed in. He gave up many years of his life, fighting for equality and justice. He fought against prejudice and was eventually elected president of South Africa after spending twenty-seven years of his life in Jail. Nelson’s story has inspired billions across the world and is one which will be told for many years to come. He is someone who never have up on what he believed in, and in the end he was rewarded for his efforts.

Steve Jobs

The reason I chose to include Steve Jobs in my video, is because he was one of the greatest innovators of all time. He changed the scope of technology and smartphones forever. Without Steve jobs we wouldn’t have apps and games on our phones, he was the one to think of these ideas and put them out there, even though everyone told him it wouldn’t work. Steve was also the one who made computer more personalized and was the one who strived for normal people to have computers in their home. After getting fired from his own business, he never gave up his ambitions and continued to innovate. His hard work led him to being rehired as CEO of apple once again and in turn led to the revival of Apple as a company. He may not have been the best guy personally, but his mind and drive are what make his someone to respect.

Audrey Hepburn

The reason I chose Audrey Hepburn for the video, is because of her passion for the art of acting and her multi-talented skill set. Not only was she a talented Actress, she was also a fashion icon, a wonderful singer, a sublime dancer and innovator in the craft. Away from the performing art’s she was an incredible humanitarian, often spending her latter years helping those less fortunate in poor countries. She would often use her celebrity for good and as a means to bring attention to issues involving poverty, violence and War, which is very commendable.

Malcom X

The reason I chose Malcom for the video is because despite his controversial takes, he was someone who strived for justice and equality for black people. He was someone who made mistakes in his past and re-invented himself into someone people would want to follow and listen. He was a great speaker who was instant on making sure his people were treated fairly and got the respect and equal opportunity they deserved. He was fearless in his pursuits and became an icon who died fighting for what’s right.  

Oprah

The reason I chose to include Oprah in my video is because of how she rose from the traumatic and hard childhood, to being a billionaire and one of the most influential people who has ever live. Oprah didn’t let her past dictate her future and she worked hard to get where she is now. Oprah is a true underdog story and she proves that if you’re unrelenting in your ambition and believe in your talent and worth, then you can rise from any hardship and achieve your goals.

Martin Luther King Jr.

The reason I chose Martin Luther King for the video is because he was a man who fought for was right. He fought against racism using peaceful tactics and was a man who felt love was solution over hate. He was and still is an inspiration to millions and his words and speeches still live on to this day. Martin was a man who knew the risks of speaking out against racism but still did it anyway, which unfortunately was the reason he died at such a young age. However, his message still lived on through the man lives he inspired. Martin was a brave and intelligent man, who had a dream for himself and his people, and he did everything in his power to make that dream come true, even if that came at the cost of his life.

James Baldwin

The reason I chose James Baldwin for the video is because of how he used his very skilled writing to talk about the injustice in America towards African American people. In James writing you can truly feel the pain and anger leap of the screen. He was a thinker that was as conservational as he was talented. James was not afraid to give his unfiltered take on racism and discrimination, and he did so with a high-level writing prowess, bravery and dignity.

Muhammad Ali

The reason I chose to include Muhammad Ali in the video is because he issues someone who stood up for his own beliefs, at the cost of his career. Not only was he the greatest boxer of all time in my opinion, he was also one of the most entertaining sportsmen to ever live. You never knew what he was going to say next and his box style was truly one of a kind. But aside from being an incredible athlete, he was also a very vocal activist and was unreserved when it came to talking the plight of black people in America. By him refusing to go to Vietnam, he was suspended for a large chunk of his prime and had his belts takeaway. Despite this, he never relented on his stance against the Vietnam war and in the end, inspired millions to voice their own objections to the war.

Date: 17/07/20

[emilysidhe]

What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son

But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity

Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”

And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!”

(Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)

And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.

So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!

(Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)

So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.

“So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

Now the prince, being a day shy of 21, doesn’t care about the fairy’s rank so much as the fact that, even though fairies go thousands of years without aging, this particular one has been around for so many millennia that she actually looks like an old woman, and not like Helen Mirren old, but, like, ugly old crone old.

But between his mom’s letters and visits and the influence of the good fairy, he has managed to be raised right, so instead of saying this aloud he goes,

“But ... you raised me?   Like ... almost from a baby?  You’re like ... my aunt?”

And just like an anonymous dude on an online dating site, the rejection drives her NUTS.  She starts flipping tables and screaming about how dare he insult her and finally she transforms him into a hideous beast and puts these stipulations on the curse:

It can only be broken if a beautiful maiden comes to him, of her own free will, fully believing that he is going to eat her (because monster), and then later agrees to marry him, out of duty, again of her own free will and not because he threatened her or bribed her or told her anything about his real identity or what’s actually going on.  Oh, and if he uses his charm and courtly manners to woo her and win her over it doesn’t count either, bye!

So then the good fairy shows up the next morning for the coronation, she finds the grounds empty, the court and servants fled, and a hideous monster roaming the halls wailing, “Why did this happen to MEEEEE?” and she’s like, “What the fuck did I miss?”

But once she’s caught up, the good fairy is like, “OK, chill, I got this.”

And the Beast is all, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GOT THIS THIS CURSE IS UNBREAKABLE!”

“No, it’s cool, I have a plan.  So first, I’m gonna conjure you some invisible spirits of the air to replace your human servants, because, as a prince, you can’t live without the service due to your station, right?”

And the Beast is all, “Yes, this is the 1700s so having servants is even more vital to my identity than a human body, that is absolutely the top priority I’m glad we’re on the same page here.  Also, good thing you’re not turning my human servants into moving furniture, cause that would be weird.”  *looks pointedly at 1756 version*

“Cool.  So now that we’ve solved the most pressing emergency of you potentially having to feed and dress yourself, the long-term plan:  The reason I haven’t been around so much is that I’ve been popping off to look in on this other child of a friend of mine, a half-fairy changeling girl being raised by human merchants, and she’s not only gorgeous, but very dutiful and good and I think she’s just the person to break this spell.  Plus if the plan works and she ends up married to you, the king, I will have fulfilled my promise to her mother that I would take care of her.  Two birds, one stone.”

“And she’s, like, my age?”

“Yes.”

“Cool, cool, liking the plan.  But how do we get her to come here believing that I’m going to eat her?”

“Well, her foster-dad lost all his money a few years back, but he just found out that one of his ‘lost’ ships came in after all and he was about to leave to check it out when I left them.  He asked all his girls what they wanted him to bring back for them, and Beauty only asked for a rose.  So, I’ll use my magic to make sure he can’t find a rose in the city, and get him lost around here on his way back.  You put him up for the night and make sure he leaves past the rose garden - he’ll obviously pick one, then you can freak out and call him a thief and say you’re going to eat him but will let him go say good-bye to his daughters first.  When she hears the story, Beauty will definitely come in his place because she’s the one who asked for the rose.  But when she gets here, you will instead become such an incredibly good host that she’ll eventually feel obligated to marry you via the rules of hospitality.  Oh!  And I’ll enchant some of the rooms with, like, self-playing instruments and mirrors that let her watch the opera and stuff so she’ll totally love it here.”

“This sounds great!  Thank you, good fairy, I’d never be able to do this alone.”

“Right. The only thing you have to remember is:  Don’t Be Charming.  No flowery compliments, no witty banter, nothing.”

“But I’m a prince!  All I do is charm!”*

“Hold it in.”

And that’s all the backstory, but before we go I just want to mention that the Warrior Queen Mother shows up while all of this is being explained to Beauty and she’s all, “Thank you so much for saving my son, but he can’t marry you, your dad’s a merchant.”  And the prince is like, “No, I’m marrying her.”  And the fairy’s like, “She’s half-fairy.”

Then it’s all, “No seriously, you can’t marry a peasant.”  And “No seriously, my twenty-first birthday passed at like the start of the curse, I’m technically the king now, and you can’t actually stop me.”  “Fairies outrank everybody.”

And they’re at a stalemate until the Fairy gives an exasperated sigh and is like, “I stand by my assertion that fairies outrank everybody to the point where in marrying a half-fairy your son would be marrying up, but would it help if Beauty’s biological dad was a lowly human king?  Cause he was.” “Yes, that ... fixes everything.”  “Great.  Well, I’m gonna head on back to Fairyland and work on getting that evil fairy arrested and becoming powerful enough to turn into a snake**, so, uh, I’m not coming to the wedding but don’t think I won’t curse you if you don’t invite me anyway, bye!”  grumbling:  “stupid humans”

Fin

*this is presented as a legitimate plot-point, that charming the pants off Beauty when they meet for dinner is something the prince actively has to resist to the point where he’s eventually afraid to say anything to her other than, “Will you marry me today?” lest something clever or flattering slip out.

**There was a lot of internal politics and machinations of the various fairies that the humans were basically pawns in that I cut out, especially from Beauty’s backstory, and a surprising amount of that revolved around who had and had not become powerful enough to turn into a snake.  Lifegoals, apparently

#beauty and the beast #fairy tales

[emma-writes-stuff]

Home

Hey, so I know I’ve only posted Supernatural so far on here, but here’s a little Harry Potter thingy I threw together because I felt like it.

Young Sirius x Reader

Word Count: 2646

I’m sorry, I know that there’s someone already “fan casted” for young Sirius, but whenever I picture young Sirius, I will always picture Ian Somerhalder, so that is who I’m using. Oopsies.

You were curled up in a small ball on a cream-colored chair in your bedroom, the one you had next to the window with the white curtains drawn shut, your knees tucked underneath you and a book laying across your legs. You were wearing a humungous long-sleeved Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt that fell about to your mid-thigh, as it had once belonged to your much taller than you and much more muscular than you boyfriend, before you “stole” it from him. (In reality, he was happy that you took it, seeing you wear his clothes was one of his favorite things in the world.)

  It had been a week since your sixth year of Hogwarts had ended, and now it was summertime. Three in the morning and sixty degrees outside. Just the way you liked it.

  However, you were internally panicking every second at the thought of the love of your life and what it must be like for him right now. While you were enjoying your summer with your lovely parents in your nice house with the pool in the backyard and your overly energetic ten-year-old dog, poor Sirius was stuck in a humungous gray, lifeless mansion, either in his room trying to avoid everyone, or being screamed at repeatedly for his “failures”. It made you tear up even thinking about anyone treating him like that. The fact that anyone could ever possibly think that your kind, incredibly handsome, strong, brave, (fairly) smart, funny, selfless, giggly, loving, cuddly, adorable boyfriend of three years and absolute best friend of six was a failure of any kind physically hurt you to think about.

  Slamming your book shut and leaning your head back on your chair, you squeezed your eyes closed, unable to think about anything else now other than Sirius. You thought about how much you wanted to be laying across him on the couch, your head resting on his chest and listening to the sound of his heartbeat, the crackling of the fireplace, and the occasional rumbling of his voice as he whispered something to you, running his fingers through your hair endlessly, completely content to just be laying there. You thought about how much you wanted to spend Christmas with him at Hogwarts again, you, Sirius, James, and Remus all wearing ugly Christmas sweaters James had purchased, Sirius’ sweater hugging him perfectly while you drowned in yours, the thick wool falling almost to your knees. Staying up in the common room with Sirius on Christmas Eve after the two of you had so excitedly been counting down for the last month, both of you wearing lopsided but adorable Santa and Mrs. Claus hats, laughing and giggling at random things until it hit midnight and the two of you discovered you had been cuddling under the mistletoe all night, gently kissing as it officially became Christmas Day. Completely losing it and laughing your asses off when James walked down the steps into the common room the second you split apart, dressed in a full Santa suit (including the massive, white, slightly Dumbledore-esque beard), with a giant red sack full of your presents thrown over his shoulder. How wide his eyes had gotten when he realized the two of you were still awake and him laughing a little before hesitantly walking backwards up the steps with a, “Ho? Ho? Ho?” You and Sirius losing it again before making your way up to his room and falling asleep in his arms with a smile on your face. Being woken up by Remus and James leaping onto your bed in their previously mentioned ugly Christmas sweaters, jumping up and down and screaming “MERRY CHRISTMAS, LOVEBIRDS!!!” All four of you running downstairs to open gifts, the only four students that had stayed over the holiday. Spending the day by the fire and listening to the record player and collection of records (old and new) that Sirius had somehow bought you, which was extra sweet knowing that it was a Muggle invention that he would have had to learn about and figure out and then spend a ton of money on, knowing how much you would love one. The record player that was now only a few feet away from you on a stand in your room after you had brought it home for the summer.

  You remembered playing Quidditch, a Chaser, until some random Slytherin you were playing against purposely threw a Bludger at your head and sent you toppling thirty feet straight down off your broomstick. How Sirius had zoomed to you the second you left the wooden stick, pushing with everything he had in him to get to you before you hit the ground, but failing to get there. You remembered being rushed to the hospital wing, how no matter how hard they tried to get him to go away, Sirius insisted that he was the first one to get to you on the field and he would be the last one to leave your side, that it was only fair as he followed like a lost puppy until you were in the hospital wing, his fingers intertwined with yours and body racked with sobs as he blamed himself for you getting hurt, convinced that he should have blocked the Bludger, caught you before you hit the ground, something, although there was nothing he could have done. You blacked out about three or four minutes after the fall, but you were told in private by James that he had been bawling, repeating “I’m sorry, I’m a terrible person and a worse boyfriend, I love you, I love you, please be okay, you can hate me if you want, sweetheart, but please be okay, I love you so much please” over and over again. The thought of it broke your heart. It had taken you a few months to remember everything that happened in the few minutes after you hit the ground, given that the hit had given you a concussion and three broken bones. Which, luckily Madam Pomfrey repaired in a week, but she highly recommended you stayed off the field the rest of the season, and you promised her that even if she hadn’t said something, there was no way Sirius would let you touch a broomstick any time before you were thirty. She had just smiled knowingly at you before saying, “I don’t think that boy’s left your side for a second the last week unless I told him he had to so I could do something. I’d be shocked if he’s eaten or gone to a single class since the game. You’ve got yourself a keeper, hon, you really do.”

  After the fall, you had spent the last twelve games of the season in the stands, all decked out in some sort of house t-shirt and your team varsity jacket or sweatshirt. Most of the time you would also put face paint on each cheek: a line of red on each, a line of gold on each. Sirius loved it, especially when you would put his number on one underneath the lines. The team wasn’t as good without you, not nearly, but the fact that you were right there for them, cheering them on from the sidelines, seemed to give them enough of a reason to push through and (barely) win the majority of the games.

  You remembered when you finally told each other how you felt and he begged asked you to be his. It was very early fourth year and James was so tired of hearing Sirius go on and on about you (as was Remus of hearing you go on and on about Sirius to him) that the two of them somehow convinced Sirius to just go for it and ask you to the Yule Ball. He had been so nervous approaching you, shaking and awkwardly holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers behind his back. “I, erm, I’ve kind of been slowly been writing this, um, big giant speech that I would eventually give you……erm, sort of for the last two years. And now I’m realizing that I’ve- um, forgotten, most of it and that, oh, god, I’m ruining this whole thing and- Y/N, you’re my best friend in this whole entire world. Don’t tell James. You’ve been there with me through everything, and I feel like I can tell you anything. I honestly, I don’t know how I would have made it through everything without you. I need you, Y/N. And as bad as I feel because I know there’s no way you’ll ever feel the same way, every time we hug or walk around together or you kiss my cheek or fall asleep against me or laugh or even just look at me- I guess I would say that, um, my heart, it just flies. I know I’m just embarrassing myself now and you probably just feel bad for me, I just, I think that- I think that you’re the greatest person in the world. You’re so beautiful and smart and funny and talented and kind and absolutely everything that I’m not. I’m in love with you. There, I finally said it out loud. I’m, um, I am in love with you, and I’m holding onto the tiniest chance that even after this shitty awful speech of mine that maybe you would be willing to, um, go with me? To the Yule Ball?” You remembered how he looked down at the ground, completely ashamed of himself for “ruining” everything, you standing there in shock until you stepped forward, lifted his head and said, “Sirius, I’ve been in love with you since first year,” and flung your arms around him. How he had laughed and spun you around, how as he put you down he cried, “Wait, so……is that a, a yes?!?” And how you replied, “Of course it’s a yes, you idiot!”

  And you remembered the day you first met Sirius Black. The day that you, a confused, muggleborn eleven-year-old girl stumbled your way onto the huge train with gigantic eyes full of wonder. How you wandered from compartment to compartment, only to see that all of them were full………except for one. The one with the messy haired kid with dorky glasses and the (even then) handsome boy with ebony hair, fighting back and forth over some sort of sport team. How you had shyly slid the door open, despite your outgoing nature, and cautiously asked, “Can, um, can I sit in here with you two? All the other compartments are completely full.” How the handsome one had grinned at you, nodding his head as he quickly replied, “Yeah, definitely!” How the three of you sat together, laughing and joking and planning pranks, immediately hitting it off. You were instant friends. James and Sirius told you everything there was to know about the sorting ceremony, and how they were sure you would end up in Gryffindor, which they seemed to think was the best house by far. You remembered how close you and Sirius seemed to be after only a few minutes of talking, and how James had later told you that he could see it the second you stepped into their compartment.

  You sighed, standing up and walking across your room to put your book back on the shelf, when you heard a loud crash and a yelp from downstairs. You leaped what seemed to be five feet in the air at the sudden noise cutting through the silence, heart racing out of your chest as you swiped your wand off your dresser, just in case, and crept swiftly down the stairs and into the living room. Running into the room and flicking on the light switch in a second, you yelled, “Who’s there?!?” in an angry tone, only to see a familiar, tall figure in front of your fireplace.

  He turned to face you, black hair whipping around his head and an incredibly scared, vulnerable expression on his face that made your heart ache.

  “Sirius?” you breathed out, running towards him and falling into his arms, wrapping yours around him. Taking a step back, you looked up at him, seeing that his eyebrows were furrowed together and it looked like he was holding back tears.

  “Oh my god, are you okay? What are you doing here?” you sighed, relieved, heart still racing against your chest.

  “I couldn’t take it, Y/N. I was asleep and she came running into my room, o-out of nowhere. Screaming at me like a bloody banshee……I couldn’t take it. She just wouldn’t stop- everything I ever did………it hurt, but I was alright, I could deal with it. But then she started on you. I’ve got, erm, I’ve got pictures of you, pasted all over my walls. She- she called you a bloody mudblood. A fucking mudblood. I was j-just so angry. I lost it on her and I- I finally ran away. I did it. I didn’t know where else to go, I’m sorry, I’m so stupid- bloody stupid…”

  “Shhh shhh,” you whispered, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull his head into your shoulder, which he happily obliged to. “I am so glad you came here, and I am so glad that you finally left that place.” You could feel him shaking now, crying a little.

  “God,” he said, his voice broken and muffled by your shoulder. “Why am I crying? I’m happy to be out, I am. Why can’t I- I stop crying?”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just me, you can- you can cry,” you whispered. “I love you so much, and I swear it’ll be fine. You can stay here, we can share my room, we can visit James all the time- it’ll all be fine.”

  “Okay,” he paused to cough a little. “Okay.”

  He let out a shaky laugh before saying, “You know, I was in such a hurry to get out of there, I didn’t grab anything but my wand. I literally have no clothes or anything.”

  You laughed a little before responding, “I’ll go back to get all of your stuff tomorrow. I might also make a small stop to punch your mother in her ugly face, but…”

  He wrapped his arms tighter around you, kissing your neck as he buried his head in your shoulder again. “You would really do that?”

  “Punch your mother? Because, I mean, Sirius, after six years you know me well enough to know that I would totally…”

  “I mean go back there. To that awful place where they would hate you, just to get some stuff of mine?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  He pulled away, staring at you with slightly wide eyes and his mouth hanging open, his eyes quickly filling with love and a smirk growing on his face.

  “God, do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asked seriously. You grinned at him right before he crashed his lips against yours. “You are actually the greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life.”

  “You’re in the top ten,” you said with a crooked smile.

  He raised his eyebrows as if challenging you. “I guess that means that over the next two and a half months that you’re stuck with me, I’m just gonna have to make my way to number one.”

  “You really think you can beat junk food?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows at you with a dorky smile before replying, “Trust me, I think this is a challenge I can win.”

  You laughed. “Someone’s feeling pretty ambitious.”

  “Well, if I can get you to somehow like my sorry ass, I can do just about anything.”

  “Fair enough.” You grinned at him before finally saying meaningfully, “I hope you know that you really are the most important thing in my life, Sirius.”

  “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Thank you, really, for letting me stay.”

  “Thank you for coming home.”

#sirius x reader #young sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #young sirius black x reader #harry potter #marauders #james potter #remus lupin #young marauders #sirius black #harry potter x reader

[adhd-ahamilton]

Joy To The World, 1, 4 and 5!

Hoo boy, so many questions!!! I hope you’re prepared for the deluge that’s gonna result...~ I’ll answer these tonight and finish the ones in the other messages tomorrow morning!

1. What inspired you to write the fic this way?

So. Over the last five or so years I’ve been writing fic, in all but the second year, I’ve written a special Christmas-related fic for Christmas. (And I did two the first year, so.) Christmas is a really important holiday to me and I really love Christmas-related stuff (the cheesier and sillier the better), so it became kind of a tradition. But this year, I was at a little bit of a loss. I knew I wanted to write Lams, because that’s my big thing right now. But how would I write Christmas Lams? Did they even properly ‘celebrate’ Christmas during that time period?? Or should I just go for an AU?

I researched it, and thankfully it turns out that the 18th century is around when people did start to celebrate Christmas in the modern sense (and it’s also when carols really started to come about, which is great because per tradition all my Christmas fic are titled after a carol), but that was just the beginning of the issue. When exactly would it be set? Valley Forge? But, uh... I highly doubted they would be really doing all that much at that point. But I couldn’t really think of any time outside of Lams AU that they’d be together. (And then I found out afterwards that Ham wasn’t even there for Christmas 1777, so, welp.) And I really couldn’t think of any kind of actual plot. I could have done a kind of meditation on their relationships to religion, but I didn’t know that much about which specific form of Christianity they belonged to, and I thought it was something that could be and HAD been done much better by other people. (Plus that’s not really my fave kind of fic to write to begin with.)

So, it wasn’t really working out that well. But still, I really kept trying. Through November, my working plan became almost set in stone: I’d do a combined historical and modern AU fic, switching back and forth between scenes, comparing themes (supply lists in VF compared with finding money for food over Christmas break in modern AU), sorta casually looking at the differences. When I gave it up, it was partly out of lack of interest in the themes, but my conscious reason was ‘I just don’t really care about modern AU Lams.’

...which came to the crux of the problem all along: I’m not really an AU person. Or rather, I’m very not an AU person. I’ve written very few AUs in my time, and almost all of them were historical AUs - certainly not modern day ones, and definitely not school AUs. I don’t have any, like, moral opposition - I can fully appreciate the transformative potential of full-setting AUs and find very interesting the interdependent communities that develop around AU-heavy fandoms as they essentially create their own accepted canons - but I just...don’t tend to like them. I’m very analytical!! The idea of just...MAKING UP not just one character or setting but basically a whole story just always seemed simultaneously too easy and too hard to me!!! Plus, I like to write really interesting and unusual things and try new styles, and one of the most basic points of interests for me in writing is asking what makes these characters and relationships unique, based on their precise personalities and backstories and combinations of traits. None of that lends well to full-setting AUs.

But. As I was mulling this terrible problem over, as usual, I was also running over in my head all kinds of various different characterisation ideas. This time, I was thinking about how it was interesting that Hamilton always seemed to be written in opposition to Henry Laurens, when IRL it seems they had a pretty decent acquaintanceship. And I was thinking about it, and I really started to think that, actually, someone in Hamilton’s point of view - who was constantly abandoned by his father, and desperate for his attention, and incredibly ambitious despite the circumstances of his birth - would be one of the WORST people to understand that an overly-controlling, overly-interested father who expects extremely highly of his son could be a negative influence. Which also added to another thought I’d been having. I always liked one quote from Chernow, that Laurens must have seen in Hamilton what a man who makes himself can do, and it always made me think that Hamilton must have been the same way - that he must have seen in Laurens the man he had always aimed to be. So, Laurens grew up in a good family, acknowledged and promoted by said family, with plenty of money and a great deal of opportunity. To Hamilton... yeah, it’d definitely be hard for him to see the problems with that. (And, you know, there IS a lot of privilege there!! It’s just, y’know, that mental illness doesn’t always listen to that.) But, those thoughts were kinda moot, because I really couldn’t think of any way to contrast these different experiences with fathers in historical verse.

And that’s when it came to me. What if I did a modern AU where Hamilton came down to visit the Laurens family for Christmas?

I didn’t have the time (or, really, the interest) to develop a full-on world for everyone, and a uni AU just seemed to be the most appropriate for this one, anyway. And it also did have a bit of appeal: it always kinda bugged me that in the AUs I read, Hamilton and Laurens never seemed to be studying law, even though that’s historically what they did do. As a law grad, I figured I might as well be the one to write it. (Though law in Australia is p different from in the US - there’s no separate law school, we just study it straight out of high school like anything else - but whatever.) And once I was doing THAT, it was hard for me to escape the fact that, in the real world, studying law hadn’t...exactly always been the best experience for me. Given that Laurens didn’t really want to study it either, it seemed appropriate to lean on those experiences a bit.

Aaand that’s where we really get to the meat of the inspiration behind it, heh. Which is to say: this is possibly the most autobiographical thing I’ve ever written...? I’ll say outright that a lot of it WAS entirely invented - my relationship with my family is nothing like John’s was in this, at all. But my anxieties over studying, and my worries about the future and what a career in law would lead to... yeah, that came from me haha. Because, to get kind of personal about it... well, I graduated July 2015. And in the time since then, I have been employed for about 2.5? months, total. The job scene here, in general and especially for law grads, is just that bad. (And, uh, there was a fair bit of personal fault in my lack of preparation for after I’d graduate? But, seriously, I was really anxious already...) And ever since then - particularly 2016 to the present - I’ve also had a lot of anxiety and depression and stuff going on. At the time I wrote the fic, it was in a position of leaning worse rather than better. So...I honestly don’t know if there was ever, like, a dispassionate fic in there safely cordoned off from my own projections, but if there was, it didn’t last long.

So, I got the idea, and wrote it all up pretty quickly in early December, just kinda ridin’ that catharsis of getting all that stuff out. (And it turned out to be even more relevant than I thought, as ‘trying to enjoy Christmas like you usually do when you’re really not happy’ also ended up a very autobiographical theme.) And that’s how it happened!

As for one or two other things:

I really really didn’t wanna get too into politics in the fic lmao. I don’t feel comfortable with more than the broadest strokes of Hamilton’s beliefs (I’m gonna GET THERE but Im still well rev-verse in Chernow) and I always feel uncomfortable about portraying historical figure in any better light than they deserve when it comes to specific matters. But I also wanted to have Laurens and Hamilton at least as POC because I also think it’s important to increase racial diversity in fanfic in the rare cases that we really get a clear choice. So, I tried to kinda portray that without really getting detailed about any activist stuff or whatever. Which is why in Ham’s argument with Henry he’s really not siding with anyone, he’s just an economics wonk who gets mad when people on both sides of the political aisle don’t make sure their numbers add up, lol. That was my best compromise. (And Philly kinda nudged me when I still got too far off-course;; haha!)

Hamilton has ADHD because: again, I wanted to actually officially write up neurodivergent characters into fic when I had the option of being specific (my Ham is always neurodivergent but obv I can’t explicitly write that into the text of historical verse), and it’s ADHD because......well, I could write a really long thing about that alone lmfao. And I feel like I kind of should in some ways because I know that a lot of people aren’t rly familiar with how ADHD tends to actually, like, feel, for real-life people, and if you aren’t then I KNOW this must sound like a really arbitrary or misguided HC. And I’d really love to write it up and expand education and all, but. It’s also something that hits really close and personal for me and, as someone who can be anxious for days straight over opening entirely innocuous tumblr messages... I just DK I could do it, atm;;;;; Someday I will though, I hope!!! (Tho I will say that I’m totally for all neurodivergent Ham HCs and that honestly my Classic Ham is also influenced by BD and BPD things so I’m p flexible about it.) (Actually I guess I CAN say that my HCs for Ham all involve disorders with extreme moods and mood swings and stuff and ADHD in its lesser known symptoms can absolutely include that, esp with Rejection-Sensitive Dysphoria, so yeah. That’s basically the large part of my reason for that headcanon right there lol.)

4. What's your favorite line of dialogue? 

HM OH MAN, I’m not sure!!! Lemme skim it again real quick.

In terms of sheer characterisation efficiency, I always liked the idea of Henry Laurens’ introductory sentence being to complain about John not calling often enough. It’s just such a perfect combination of a) genuinely cares about his son and wants to hear from him, and b) is an asshole who has no idea whatsoever of the pressure he’s putting on his son without offering any concurrent praise or reassurance. 

...so yeah I think I’ll leave it at that actually, since this thing is long enough already lol.

5. What part was hardest to write?

I was sitting here trying hard to remember if I really had trouble writing any part of the draft because there was one bit where I stalled briefly but it wasn’t really that bad and I couldn’t even really remember it and apart from that it was super smooth...until I remembered that editing counts as writing. And hoo fucking boy.

I was lucky enough to be able to have my fic beta-ed by Philly! Which I’m super grateful for and the fic is undoubtedly better for it! But it was a really difficult process for me because of my anxiety. And I needed to do it rather quickly, because of course I had to have it finished before Christmas, and my family actually was going away for Christmas where we wouldn’t have internet access.

So I get through almost all of the fic. It’s finally almost done. And then right at the end there’s a bit where Alex and John quickly exchange gifts on Christmas morning. Super short scene. And Philly pointed out that, actually, wouldn’t the rest of the family be taken-aback at them exchanging gifts without them?

And I kind of read that and sat back and. that was right. That was 100% correct. So like. What do I do??? Do I involve the other characters? But the original scene was like, three lines. and I don’t wanna have to write a whole new scene lmao. Do I take it out? But in a earlier scene, I’d had John express a worry that the present he’d gotten for Alex was awful and he really regretted it, and I kinda liked that in this final scene we see that actually he’d just forgotten WHY he’d bought it (he’d remembered Alex saying something about it), and I thought that was a nice thing about how anxiety can really fuck with even your memory and stuff bc in the end there genuinely was no reason to worry. It wasn’t necessary to the fic, but it only came about in the writing - I’m pretty sure the outline was just like ‘and then they exchange gifts or somethign??? IDK’ - and I didn’t want to get rid of it again. But then how do I justify them exchanging gifts alone??? 

And so that’s how I ended up just sitting there mournfully or pacing back and forth like p LEASE just SAVE ME, just GIVE ME AN OPTION, I have a HOLIDAY TO PACK FOR and THINGS TO DO and I just want this damn fic to be EDITED and DONE ALREADY. I came up with soo many possibilities, none of which satisfied me,lmao. and eventually after wayyyyyy too long of trying to figure it out I settled on something that seemed mostly plausible and then just. wrote it in and skimmed the rest of the fic and posted it lmao.

Which, honestly, is pretty typical proceedings. I tend to have the general ideas come pretty easily to me, and the actual writing is normally pretty smooth - it’s usually the editing where I start rocking back and forth and cursing myself for ever trying to write :’) (Luckily, at that point I’m close enough to the end that I can usually force it through...!!)

#elysianmars #long post #my fanfiction #I...think about things... a lot.............. #I got a lot to say okay................................

[tortuga-aak]

I spent years — and a fortune — chasing the life I thought everyone else had until I recognized a simple truth

FOMO, or 'Fear of Missing Out,' is an irrational belief that everyone is always having more fun than you.

Mark Manson used to suffer from FOMO and would travel to various countries just to get rid of the fear of not experiencing something great.

Often, the expensive trips would be a letdown because he would spend money on things he didn't really care about, just for the "perfect picture."

FOMO causes people to make their decisions based on the imagined experience — not the reality of it.

  I used to have this problem. It was almost like an addiction. Except I wasn't actually consuming something — rather, it was like an addiction of wanting to consume things that I couldn't. I'm not proud of this problem. In fact, I used to hide it from family and friends. I used to pretend like nothing was wrong, like nothing bothered me. Yet, it ate away at me inside.

I used to suffer from FOMO. That is, "Fear of Missing Out."

You've probably heard of it. H---, you probably suffer from it in one form or another.

For me, for a number of years, it was travel. Show me a pretty picture and my knee-jerk reaction was that I needed to sell my last pair of shoes to go there. And not just go there, but go like, now. Go yesterday. What the f--- was I waiting for? I should be there already. Oh s---, I'm too late!

Forget the fact that the picture was probably photoshopped and a professional photographer was probably paid $10 billion to make the water look perfect and the island was on the other side of the planet — shut up. I. HAD. TO. GO.

And often, I did. Not all of the time (otherwise I would have spent my life on airplanes), but a fair amount of the time. I spent probably tens of thousands of dollars flying to remote, exotic destinations that lit up my Facebook and Instagram every day like a f---ing slot machine.

Some of these places were breathtaking. But most weren't. In fact, many of them were a letdown.

With the filters removed, and some cloudy off-season weather in play, and a gaggle of tourists spoiling your Snapchat-perfect moment, that dream of a beach trip that I had bought into and mortgaged half my month to get actually usually ended up being a bit drab and ordinary.

You would think after a few of these trips, it would sink in.

But it didn't. Not at first, at least. At first, it actually had the opposite effect. It just convinced me that I wasn't going to the right places. That my Instagram sleuthing was sub-par. That I was even further behind the curve than I thought. That my destinations simply weren't exotic enough, my adventures not adventurous enough. That I wasn't doing enough research or spending enough money. And so I returned, as always, to that dopamine machine known as the internet, to newsfeed me into another vision of a perfect Shangri-La that I could project all of my hopes and wishes onto.

I did this for years.

And yes, I went on a lot of awesome trips. But I also ended up with a peculiar problem of often traveling to places I didn't actually enjoy, and spending my money on seeing things that I didn't actually care about.

Talk about first world problems (except this was usually happening in the third world).

In hindsight, I wasn't motivated by the joy of seeing something great. I was motivated by the fear of not seeing something great.

Those may sound like the same thing, but they are not. They are worlds apart (no pun intended).

FOMO is a compulsive desire to experience something (or be somewhere) motivated not by what you gain, but rather by the fear of what you will potentially lose. 

And this idea of loss is usually (OK, almost always) imagined.

FOMO is self-invented psychological torture. It's a figment of our mind's worst imagination. It's that irrational belief that everyone is always having more fun than you, at all times. That life's epic moment is always just around the corner, and you're a dumb for staying home and not participating in it.

It's the irrational belief that the next place/person/event is going to be the perfect one and you're missing out by focusing on wherever you are or whatever you're doing. It's hanging out with nine different friends each week and not feeling close to any of them. It's going to five different bars on a Friday night and hating every single one because you can't stop thinking about the next one down the street your friend is at and is probably way cooler than wherever you are.

FOMO is becoming a big issue with our generation for the simple fact that our generation has the most options and choices to choose from. This has been famously called "The Paradox of Choice" and it's pretty much why the more amazing things get, the less happy we all become.

If you have two breakfast burritos to choose from, you'll pick whichever looks better and not think anything of it.

Pixel.la/Flickr

But if you are offered 37 different varieties of gourmet, artisanal breakfast burritos with locally sourced goat milk ganache, then you're likely to torture yourself, and not just making the decision itself, but you'll wonder for the next five hours if that was the best burrito you could have had in that situation or any situation ever and then decide that you have to go back to try the other ones. Except this is the fourteenth brunch cafe you've said you have to go back to and not only are not even hungry anymore, but you don't even like burritos and OMG THERE'S JUST NOT ENOUGH TIME TO DO ALL OF THE AMAZING THINGS.

The problem with FOMO is that it prevents you from actually experiencing what's happening. That might sound crazy, since FOMO is often what drives people to try to accumulate as many experiences as possible, but it simultaneously robs those same experiences of any significance or lasting meaning.

The reason is that FOMO causes people to make their decisions based not on the reality of the experience, but rather the imagined experience.

So they don't actually want to go to dinner with their co-workers. But then they think that this might be the big moment where everyone has that epic night together and bonds with one another and loves each other like besties forever and ever. So they go anyway. And because they don't actually want to be there, they don't have an epic night, and they don't bond, and nobody becomes their bestie, and instead, they sit there on their phone imagining all of the other cool amazing things they could be doing instead of this lame dinner with their co-workers.

In this sick and twisted way, the FOMO person crams their life full of activities while not actually being present or appreciative of what's happening. In their desperate obsession with quality experience, they compensate by accumulating quantity of experience.

Back when I was gawking at those Instagram photos of photobombed beaches and t---twisting mountains, I wasn't actually thinking to myself, "Hmm… would I enjoy the process of packing, flying, preparing, hiking, losing sleep, paying tons of money, hiring a guide, buying new boots, researching hotels, etc., etc. for what this location likely offers?"

No, my mind never got further than, "That looks cooler than what I'm doing now," and that's all it needed to want to go do it.

In hindsight, it was an incredibly immature and impulsive means of making decisions. Just because something seemed better meant that I immediately jumped to the conclusion that it would be better and then invested my time and energy into it.

Years ago, back when I used to give a lot of dating/relationship advice, I used to notice this similar behavior with younger, more immature men and women.

A guy would see a hot girl, and his mind would immediately jump to, "I need to be with her! Tell me how I can be with her!" without actually going through the logical steps of asking himself the obvious questions of what she was like, whether he would even enjoy being around her, whether they would get along, if she would treat him well, if she was even looking to be with someone, whether they would actually be happy, etc.

There was a fusion in these guys' brains of "She's hot" equals "I want to be with her."

Looking back, they were FOMO'ing out of their minds. Anything sexy struck them as more worthwhile than whatever they were doing with their lives at the moment. And because there's always something new and sexy around the corner, they were therefore never satisfied with any woman they actually met.

It was a sick mind game they played with themselves without knowing it. And it was classic objectification of the men/women they wanted to be with (or at least thought they wanted to be with).

And that's really what FOMO boils down to: objectification. Not just of others, but ourselves. Treating our lives as some sort of itemized checklist or score to be maxed out before we die. But life is not a video game. There's no report card waiting for you at the pearly gates. And no, you can't take your Facebook timeline with you when you're dead.

Life is a series of complicated experiences that bring various mixtures of joys and struggles and must be evaluated and decided upon as we go, based on our current feelings and values. Inspired by our insecurities, FOMO short-circuits our ability to handle or deal with any of this.

I know the truth is not as sexy as a bright-blue-green beach or a model-thin girl in a pair of short-shorts. And that's probably why people seem to be so bad at doing it. Because the internet is good at showing sexy. It's bad at showing life.

The way to get out of feeling FOMO is to start killing those fantasies that you're letting rule your decision making. 

There's no such thing as a perfect beach. There's no such thing as a perfect partner. There's no such thing as a perfect night out or a perfect party or a perfect group of friends.

Better and worse are highly relative things. And they depend on far more than what looks good on paper (or on a smartphone). You can go to the most perfect place in the world, but if your dog died the day before you left, it's going to be a horrible trip. There's nothing you can do about that. So much of what makes life "good" or "bad" is unpredictable and outside our control.

All of life's great experiences come with associated costs. They require investment and sacrifice. And it's completely normal and healthy to be unwilling to commit to them at times. That doesn't mean you're necessarily missing anything. In fact, if you think about it, you're always missing something. And sometimes it's actually better that you're missing those things.

Eventually what stopped my FOMO was realizing that you are always missing out on something. Yes, I was running away on these amazing trips to see amazing places. But I was also giving up the stability and community that comes with building a home. I was giving up making strong connections with people, and being there in a reliable way for those I cared about. I was giving up my ability to focus for long stretches at a time, to build something more out of my career and my skill-set and to reach my full potential.

Valuable experiences come in many forms.

Some of those are exciting and Snapchat-worthy. Others are not. Looking back, I probably got more out of the books I read in Bali than I did actually being there. It hurt the first time I admitted that to myself. But it's true.

Some of these other valuable-yet-unsexy experiences — being alone, maintaining friendships, educating yourself — you will never see them on Instagram because you can't take a picture of them. It's not something out there outside of yourself. It's something you build upon within. And the first step to that building process is the day you realize that life isn't about accumulating more experiences, but rather focusing extremely well on less.

Happiness doesn't work in the way most people think it does. In fact, it operates in kind of a "backwards" way. To find out what I mean, put your email in the form and receive my 24-page ebook on happiness, what it means, and how to achieve it. No spam. I promise.

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