#who set out to do right by their kid and at some point one misstep led to another andknow here their kid is looking from the other side of

[metalhoops]

Remember this post? 

They were in the belly of the beast. 

The Creel House stood resolute, tinged the colour of a freshly heal wound, reopened. The same sickly red stain of The Upside Down sky, brown boards blue-hued from strange smokes and cinder. Part of Eddie felt like he’d seen the house before, in some half-remembered nightmare. Deep in the back of his brain, where all strange primal fears were housed, there was a spot saved for the decaying manner. 

By all rights, Eddie shouldn’t have been in the house. If they’d followed the original plan, he’d have been on the roof of the trailer. It’d been Wheeler, of all people who’d changed things. She was a smart girl, too damn smart for her own good in Eddie’s opinion. She’d pointed out all the ways their plan could go wrong and as much as Eddie wanted to redeem the Munson name, he didn’t want to walk into a death trap if he could help it. 

Nancy was right. That didn’t change the creeping sense of dread he felt whenever he looked her way. It was like one of Vecna’s vines had made a home in his stomach and was creeping up towards his mouth each time the girl did something impressive. Eddie had the sneaking suspicion something was swaying his feelings towards her. Something with light brown hair, who had entered the Creel house brandishing a baseball bat like a medieval sword. 

Jesus H. Christ. Seeing Steve Harrington wield the tetanus trap of a baseball bat, full of splintering wood and rusted nails wasn’t a sight he’d ever pictured living to see. 

Drifting in from the wasteland beyond the open door, Eddie could hear his amps playing ‘Master of Puppets’ on the boom box they’d borrowed from the Harringtons’. The poor little player had never gotten the taste for good music. Eddie had to admit it was a good idea. 

He, Steve and Dustin set up the trap. Once the bats began to swarm the trailer the two older boys boosted Dustin up and out of the portal, much to the kid’s protest. They then snuck around the back of the trailer, while the girls waited in the woods ahead. Nancy had her sawn-off trained on the swarm. Robin had her Molotovs. Range weapons, waiting in the wings. He and Steve were the best at evasion. If this were a campaign, he’d say they made a pretty balanced party, all things considered. 

The interior of the house was worse than Eddie expected. It was filled with rotted vines and ash, making the air smell of must and mildew. Eddie’s brain kept telling him to turn tail and run, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. 

He shifted his shield from one hand to the next as they moved deeper into the house, channelling his nervous energy away from his feet. One misstep and their distraction would be for nothing. Their plan was a house of cards. One gust of wind and the whole damn thing would blow over. If Eddie screwed up Red, along with everyone else in the Creel house, would be dead before the world had time to end. 

Steve took the lead up the stairs like Eddie knew he would. He had a hero complex Eddie couldn’t unpick. Once everything was over, he had questions about what the party had seen the last three times they’d decided to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight. There was something about Steve Harrington he couldn’t put his finger on. Sure, trauma could change a person, Eddie was learning that lesson the hard way, but the man charging up the stairs towards their inevitable death in too-tight pants and an army jacket had some explaining to do. 

He wasn’t sure who’d done it in the end. Whose foot made first contact with the blackened tendrils, the dominos fell too fast to pinpoint an epicentre. Nancy's body jerked one way, while Steve was sent skyward. His back hit the walls of the house with a sickly wet thud, a mass of undulating vines threatening to swallow him whole. Robin was on the floor at the foot of the steps, hacking away at the vines with an axe. Eddie was pushed against the bannister, all the air fleeing his lungs. This was how he would die. 

The sound of distant wings grew ever louder as Eddie’s vision began to blacken around the edges. 

In Eddie’s fading vision, he watched as a sliver of light glinted off something overhead. The axe fell like a guillotine, too close to Eddie’s head for comfort. He was free. He took greedy gulps of air, his eyes making contact with Buckley’s. She looked as shocked as he did, like a nocturnal animal caught in floodlights.

They didn’t have time. Robin was off, desperately hacking skywards at the vines still ensnaring Steve. He’d managed to wedge the bat between the vine and his throat. Rusted nails dug deeper into the black mass as it attempted to constrict, but it also buried the nails deeper into Steve’s flesh. 

Eddie ran to help Nancy, her lips blue as her fingers blindly grasped for the shotgun that’d landed just out of reach. Nancy was smart, but like all people, the fear of death made her dumb. A bullet to the jugular wasn’t going to fix this. 

Eddie tried to slide his fingers between the vine and her throat, to relieve some of the pressure. His fingers kept slipping, sticky with sap or blood. He didn’t know. He wished he had a knife as he tried to untangle the vines from ensnaring her body. There was nothing more he could do. He had to sit and wait as he felt the fight begin to fade from her convulsing body. He listened distantly to Robin’s slew of curses as she hacked at drywall. For each vine cut from Steve’s body, there was another waiting to ensnare him. 

Life-or-death situations had a strange way of bringing one's true feelings to the surface. Eddie crouched beside Nancy, his hand clawing at the vine encircling her throat, watching as her panic-ridden eyes flickered across his face. He noticed her hand twitching up trying to pry the vine from its hold on her throat and Eddie’s arm. She was so weak he hadn’t noticed her attempt. He ran a thumb absentmindedly back and forth across her knuckles, trying to soothe her. 

“Hey, no. Hey. You’re fine, Wheeler. You’re okay. Slow breaths, alright? You’ve got this,” he muttered hating how uncertain he sounded, how strained his voice was. 

He didn’t hate Nancy. He’d hate himself if he let Steve’s chance of a storybook ending die in his arms but Christ that was a lot of pressure. 

He crouched there until his fingers turned white and an axe descended upon the vines, cutting them both free. Wheeler gasped, taking deep shaky breaths as she squeezed Eddie’s hand, locking eyes with Buckley over his shoulder. She schooled her features when Steve came into view. His throat wept blood but he was upright, which was more than Eddie could’ve hoped for. 

The vines began to retreat for a reason they couldn’t discern. The group rushed to the second-floor landing, as the swarm of bats descended upon the house, rushing in through the open door. Eddie watched as something shifted in Steve’s stance. He twisted the baseball bat in his hands, familiarising himself with the weapon before taking a few practice swings. 

“Keep going. I’ll hold ‘em off,” Steve spoke. 

Eddie knew it wasn’t a good plan. He knew what happened to the people who stayed behind. Steve had warned him about playing the hero. Eddie wasn’t going to let him have all the fun. 

He held his shield aloft in front of himself, trying to see how much of his body he could brace behind it. If this were a campaign, Eddie knew fighting something that nasty on your own would be akin to a death sentence. 

“I’m staying. Even the odds,” Eddie spoke, as though two boys fresh off the heels of adolescence taking on a swarm of hundreds of unearthly horrors was in any way shape or form, even.  They just had to hold them off until Vecna was dead. The hellscape couldn’t survive without him. Cut off the head and the rest would follow. 

If they had more time, maybe things would’ve gone differently. Maybe they would’ve come up with a better plan, but there was no time. Robin looked poised for an argument or a thought-out speech but Nancy cocked the shotgun and dragged her forward. She knew the silent promise that came with goodbyes. 

The boys were faced with a black mass of writhing wings. They found a rhythm with ease. Steve swung his bat in a perfect arch, sending any unfortunate hell spawn in its wake flying into Eddie’s waiting shield, empaled on the jagged nails. 

Eddie was surprised at how easy it was to find something akin to peace at that moment. He and Steve knew how to move around each other, and how to anticipate each other. They watched the other’s back and oftentimes found themselves back-to-back. Steve’s broad shoulders were grounding where they pressed into Eddie’s. It was the world's strangest game of baseball. With Steve at his side, the horror of the moment seemed to fall away. 

They worked better together than Eddie could’ve imagined and lasted longer than he’d thought. Yet, they couldn’t hold out much longer. The room smelled of rotted iron and Eddie’s sides throbbed. He was too hopped up on adrenaline for the seriousness of the situation to take hold, but one look at Steve in his periphery let him know they were both in bad shape. 

The boy was covered in blood. The wound in his side was torn open once more. Someone could trace their movement by the bloody footprints littering the floor. 

They were dying. 

Eddie tried not to let the enormity of the situation swallow him whole. 

“Hey? How’s it going in there? You killin’ the son of a bitch or just admiring the view?” Eddie screamed above the beating of wings. When a response didn’t come, Steve and Eddie exchanged worried looks. 

“Rob?” Steve yelled, casting a glance through the doorway. 

The moment of distraction left him wide open for a bat to swoop, wrapping its twisted tail around Steve’s arm and tugging him upwards. Eddie acted fast, grabbing Steve’s ankle, and pulling him back to the relative safety of the rotting boards, bloated and warping from the mingling blood and black, bat ooze. 

“I can’t find the lighter,” Robin’s voice called at last. It must have fallen from her pocket when the vines attacked. Shit. 

Eddie plunged his hands into the depths of his jacket pocket and thanked the god he didn’t believe in for his habit of chain smoking in times of crisis. He’d brought another lighter. 

“Watch my six Stevie, I’ve got one,” Eddie called, rushing into the room leaving no space to argue. 

Nancy had slung the rifle over her shoulder and had taken Robin’s axe, making short work of the few bats that’d managed to sneak past his and Steve’s defences. 

Eddie ran to Robin’s side, noticing how the girl’s eyes swelled at seeing him. He was definitely in bad shape then. Her hands trembled as she held out the bottle. Time and time again, Eddie tried to light the cloth. It wasn’t working.

Nothing was working. Panic finally took hold of Eddie. They were going to die. He wished he could say he made peace with that knowledge, but he couldn’t. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie mumbled as the lighter continued to dull and spark. 

“What’s going on? I’m coming in,” Steve yelled as he appeared in the doorway barring the opening as best he could, trying to hold the flimsy wood as it buckled beneath the bats' weights. 

Steve’s eyes shifted over the scene, assessing the situation within seconds. 

He charged forward, taking the bottle from Robin’s hands, and letting the rag fall to the floor. 

“Nancy, get ready to shoot,” Steve called as he stalked closer to Vecna’s dangling body. A look passed between the two. The glance told Nancy everything she needed to know.

“Eds, lighter,” Steve called over his shoulder extending his hand. Eddie blinked, tossing it to Steve. 

Eddie would remember what happened next for the rest of his life. Whether that life lasted for minutes or decades, it didn’t matter. There was no such thing as a perfect moment, but what followed was as close as they could come. 

Steve took a deep swig of vodka, filling his cheeks with the bitter liquid and held Eddie’s lighter aloft, the small flame illuminating Steve’s features, a final spark of warmth amongst the blue-grey walls and ash of the house. His hands dripped blood, what was left of his skin was pale from the loss of it. 

Steve spat the alcohol in a perfect arc, through the flame, breathing fire over Vecna’s body, catching the dark wizard alight. Steve was a fallen king turned dragon. A higher kind of nobility. Breathtaking, unearthly, and dangerous. 

As Nancy littered Vecna’s body with bullets, Eddie kept his eyes trained on Steve, his heart in his throat. Eddie wasn’t one for sudden affections. His heart was an alley cat, wary and distrustful by nature. Yet, despite everything, Eddie fell in love with Steve at that moment. His heart soared straight past ‘crush’ and on through to adoration. Maybe it was the blood loss but with Vecna’s dead body on the floor at their feet, he knew at that moment, his life would be inextricably connected to Steve’s. 

The boy shot him a smile over his shoulder, his lip bloody, vodka smattering his chin. The room smelled of kindling. 

The girls rushed to Steve, taking turns embracing him. The sound of bats at the door had finally stopped. It was over. They’d won. 

Eddie watched on helplessly as Steve rested his forehead against Robin’s, holding the girl close, his face contorting in pain. Robin muttered a string of incoherent words just loud enough for Steve to hear before pulling back. 

Nancy was next. Their hug was less feverish, more familiar. Nancy’s chin rested on Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s hands gripped the back of her shirt as they had a hundred times before. They looked good together. It made Eddie ache. He looked away. 

When he looked back, to his surprise Robin had scooped Nancy into a too-tight hug, blathering about how petrified she’d been and how amazing Nancy was. Much to his surprise, Steve was looking at him, his arms open in offering. 

The others were close. They had gone through hell together. Eddie was the outsider. It felt strange being offered a place amongst them, but he didn’t know when he’d get another opportunity, so he strode forward letting Steve’s arms encircle his body. 

It wasn’t the kind of hug he’d expected. It wasn’t feverish, like Robin’s or as solid and steadfast as Nancy’s. Steve clung to him, his hands gripped at Eddie’s forearms, as though trying to map out the uncharted territory before pulling him closer. His hands snaked around Eddie’s body, finally finding a home, clutching at the shirt fabric around his shoulder blades.

Eddie didn’t know what to do with his hands, finding them slipping beneath Steve’s jacket, just above his waist. His head found its way to Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s did the same. He could feel the boy’s heart pounding. He smelled of sweat, blood, and alcohol. 

“You’re a total badass, Steve Harrington.” Eddie gasped. His breath was hot against Steve’s ear. The boy chuckled, causing a shiver to run up his spine.

“I don’t know, Munson. That’s high praise comin’ from a hero,” Steve spoke.

“I’m not-,” Eddie began, but Steve wasn’t having it. 

“Take a compliment dude. You went to Mordor,” Steve spoke in the tone of a man who still didn’t know exactly what ‘Mordor’ was. 

Hawkins’ golden boy, trying to ‘speak nerd’ to him wasn’t quelling any of Eddie’s feelings. 

“Yeah well, next time we go somewhere let’s make it nice. Check out The Rockies, The Grand Canyon, maybe California.” 

Later Eddie would blame the blood loss for being so bold. 

Steve pulled back, just far enough to look at Eddie’s face. To his surprise, Steve shot him a goofy grin. 

“I like the sound of that.” 

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre slash #robin buckley #Nancy Wheeler #hint at #ronance #fruity four #the fruity four #eddie munson lives #steddie ficlet #ficlet #drabble #steddie drabble #platonic stobin #platonic edancy #I finally decided to write the thing for you guys #hope you enjoy #they probably pass out #two seconds later from blood loss #then wake up next to each other #in their hospital beds #Eddie is half-high and won't stop #rambling to Dustin about #how badass Steve is #Steve is wide awake and also half high #listening to Eddie gush to Dustin #The second Eddie so much as mentioned #not hating the idea of a road trip with the six nuggets

[jaemmphilia]

★ episode one: casual ★ || seo c.b

★ summary: changbin is called into his agency by his manager to come and look at a potential script for a mini-series that's a spinoff of the popular movie: don't say goodbye. he accepts the script immediately, not realizing who his co-star is until changbin sees him sitting at the table.

★ pairing: actor!changbin x actor!male!reader

★ warnings and rating: colorful language, reader and changbin have some history, enemies/idiots to lovers, (16+ rating), arguments, changbin calls the reader some mean names

★ word count: 1.8K (1810)

★ binnie's thoughts: welcome to the beginning of the paint me naked series! this is going to be a fun one, and i think i've postponed it long enough...

★ requested?: yes, thank you @goovultss and i'm so sorry it took so long for the first part to come out...

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO WAY represents changbin as a person. this fic is simply for entertainment purposes, so enjoy!

© triplejracha, 2023. please do not copy to any other platform.

★ series masterlist ★

Changbin is over the moon these days.

He’s at the top of his acting career, just like he’s always wanted. He’s constantly being invited to award shows and various celebrity parties (he was invited to world-famous actor Hwang Hyunjin’s recent birthday party, so he knows he’s made it to the big leagues.). He’s a humble guy, no doubt, but sometimes he can’t help but wonder how awesome he is as an actor. 

His career started when he was around three years old, and he was in a commercial advertising some sort of brand-new juice. He thought it was gross, but his mother told him she wasn’t going to listen to him whine about the fluid being nasty. He sucked it up and completed the commercial without any further fuss. Will he always remember that oddly specific taste so long as he still lives? Of course, but that’s not the point. Ever since then, he became popular, being cast in small roles, such as the child for a couple, or the younger version of the main character, the list goes on and on.

His roles only increased as he got older and his baby face morphed into one of a more mature type. His chubby cheeks remained, but he finally grew into his nose and eyes. He was then cast into more concrete roles with mature characters and themes. He was excited when he had to smoke a fake cigarette when he played Yoojeon, the secondary love interest and the most intimidating boy in school. 

But his success didn’t stop at acting, he was also chosen to walk down fashion runways, as well as appearing on the front of dozens of magazines boasting about his fast jump to fame. 

As Changbin is relaxing in his penthouse, flicking through endless channels as he shovels some chips into his mouth, his phone rings loudly. He sets the remote down and picks up his phone, the familiar contact name of his manager, coming to view. He immediately picks up, placing the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, kid. Got any plans today?” His manager asks, and Changbin tells the older man no. He had planned to hit the gym for a few hours, but that can wait until tomorrow. 

“Great. Come to my office, there’s a script here that’s calling your name.” The man says and Changbin wastes no time in jumping up and slipping on his shoes. His manager knows that Changbin would never turn down a script, he’s simply just high off on success. 

“I’m on my way right now! Did you send a car for me?” Changbin asks as he barrels down the stairs of his penthouse, nearly falling to his death. 

“Yes, it’s waiting at the front of your complex building. And please don’t rush down the stairs. You remember what happened last time.” The older man scolds. 

Oh, Changbin remembers it well. He was excited about a script reading and he misstepped on the stairs and fell straight down to the bottom, breaking his arm in the process. The broken arm led to him missing the opportunity to play the lead role in the movie he was going to be reading the script for. They gave the role to his worst enemy: Moon [Name]. 

Moon [Name] is the bane of Changbin’s existence. He’s snobby, egotistic, and contemptuous. Changbin hates his guts with his pretty face and great acting skills. Ugh, it drives Changbin up a wall just thinking about that asshole. Moon [Name] loves to make things into a competition, he’s always been like that. It’s always about who can get the better roles or who can accumulate the highest amount of sponsors for just a single role. 

If Changbin could drive, he would’ve hit [Name] with this car a long time ago. 

Once Changbin enters the building, he gets the rundown from his manager. His manager tells him the script is a spinoff of the hit movie “Don’t Say Goodbye” starring Han Jisung and Lee Minho. Changbin gets even more excited because he loves that movie. 

He remembers sitting in his penthouse sobbing like a baby because Jinhae (Jisung’s character) had died of some terminal illness without his summer lover, Yeohan (Minho’s character) knowing. He cried for days and days after watching the movie for the first time. He then proceeded to watch it six more times. He’s a hopeless romantic, cut him some slack. 

Knowing that the script is for the spinoff, he wonders if the characters will be the friend of Jinhae and the brother of Yeohan; Taesung and Yeohei. They were only mentioned a few times in the movie, and it was hinted that they were crushing on each other. Changbin also wonders which role he’ll get, will he be Taesung or Yeohei? If he were to choose, he would pick Taesung. Taesung sounds way cooler than Yeohei. 

Changbin arrives at the producer’s building, and he goes to the large meeting room his manager told him to go to. Changbin greets his manager outside the room, and he can’t help but notice the nervous look on the older man’s face. The way his eyes shift and refuse to look at Changbin.

“Hyung, what’s got you all worked up? Is your wife not speaking to you again?” Changbin jokes, but his manager only lets out a huff of a laugh in response. “Hold on, what’s going on? You always laugh at my jokes!” 

“I think it’s best if you walk into the room and see for yourself.” The older man says, his gaze still not meeting Changbin’s. Changbin is confused, his strong eyebrows furrowed as he pushes open the door to the meeting room.

When he enters, his gaze falls on a particular body in the room. The person looks up from his phone, his soft [EC] eyes staring straight into Changbin’s eyes. When the two of them realize who each other are, they both speak in unison:

“Oh, fuck no.”

It’s a few days after that unnecessarily aggressive encounter with [Name], and Changbin is not taking the role of Taesung. As much as he would love that role, he refuses to work with [Name]. Changbin’s manager is desperately trying to convince and bribe the young star to take the role, but Changbin isn’t listening. 

“Come on Changbin! This role could be huge for you! You’re already familiar with the storyline, and the director says your appearance fits Taesung’s character perfectly!” His manager cries out, the man slowly getting fed up with his bratty client. “It doesn’t get any more perfect than that!’

“I’ll take that role when [Name] is not my co-star,” Changbin says gruffly, letting out a puff of air as he lifts the heavy metal bar above his head, his bicep muscles tensing with strain. “You know how I feel about that fucking brat.” 

His manager huffs and rubs his temples, “Do you maybe, I don’t know, think you’re being dramatic?”

Changbin sets the metal bar on the hooks above him and he sits up, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He fixes his glare onto his manager, his plump bottom lip jutted out, which makes him less intimidating than he thinks. “Me? I’m not being dramatic! I just really hate that pretentious asshole!”

“Changbin, just think about the aftermath if you take this role. You would blow up, even more than you already have. You’re already at the top, but you can go higher.” His manager says to him, hoping those words of encouragement will give him the push he needs.

Changbin thinks about those words, the tension between his brows relaxing just a bit. If he takes the role, his fame would skyrocket, taking him higher than he already is right now. Maybe he should take the role, what if [Name] isn’t the same dickhead he remembers the male being? With a very dramatic sigh, he agrees to take the role. His manager immediately takes out his phone to call the director, leaving Changbin to resume his once-interrupted workout. 

It’s the first day of filming, and Changbin is pretty much vibrating with excitement. He spent the past three days memorizing his lines. He could barely sit still long enough for his makeup artist to complete his makeup. He was itching to film and he had not seen [Name] yet, so today was already faring to be a good one. 

That is, until [Name] showed up on set, his hair and makeup finished, his once [HC] hair now hidden under a black wig with purple streaks, the hairstyle in a shaggy cut. [Name] has a lip piercing, a silver ring straight down the middle of his plump, soft red colored lips. He’s wearing a fuzzy wine-red sweater with white cat paws littered around it hanging on his slimmer frame. Changbin tries not to stare for too long, but he has to admit that the piercing suits [Name] pretty well. A little too well, he might admit.

He turns his gaze away before he gets caught staring, and his makeup artist informs him that he’s done. She hands him a mirror, and Changbin barely recognizes himself. He has on green contacts, making his chocolatey brown eyes morph into a soft hazel color. They decided to keep his natural deep brown curls, feeling that they tied Taesung’s character together perfectly. His makeup artist placed a few small fake tattoos on his face, and he really likes how he looks. He feels like a badass motorcycle driver or the rebellious son of a mafia boss. 

“You look pretty good, Taesung.” A playful voice snaps him out of his little fantasy world. His face falls when he realizes [Name] is the one talking to him. Changbin hopes he didn’t get caught staring at his sworn enemy. [Name] is standing right in front of him, a cheeky smile on his face. Changbin wishes he could just slap that look off [Name]’s face. 

Changbin and [Name] barely managed to finish one scene together before they began arguing. The two are all up in each other’s faces, spitting hateful insults at each other. Their managers exchange a look, the two of them were already used to their client’s childish behavior by now. [Name]’s manager asks for a short break, even though filming had just started no less than five minutes ago. The director nods, not wanting to get in between the quarrel. Changbin’s manager pulls him away from [Name], but that doesn’t stop Changbin from calling the other male a stuck-up bitch.

“Changbin, what the hell were you two even arguing about?” His manager asks, handing him a water bottle, hoping it would calm the male down. 

Changbin angrily drinks the water before answering, “[Name] sai–” A pause. “You know what, I don’t even remember.”

Changbin’s manager groans. This was going to be a long filming process.

#kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #male reader #kpop x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin x male reader #changbin

[eerna]

I really like your response to the anon asking about what are the strengths of TFOTA. I think you nailed it regarding how Holly Black hit it out of the park, and I’m curious if you can expand on what you think some of the series missteps were. (TFOTA is an all-time fave for me, but nothing is perfect!)

For me, I think the way she structures her books into different parts does make them drag a little (especially some parts of the middle of The Wicked King). Like sometimes it feels like characters are spinning their wheels a bit while she’s setting everything up for the plot, but I ultimately don’t mind this because her plots are so well executed.

As always, love your breakdowns and critiques so just curious to hear more!

Ayyy thanks, glad you agree! :D

OO yes I heard that as an often critique of her stuff! I do think you're right and the slowness is present, but to me it's not an issue since the characters are fun enough for me never to be bored. I'm the kind of reader who can enjoy the slowest thing imaginable as long as the characters interest me.

Structured like the strengths post, my main issues. 1) The YA writing style of overexplanation. These books are sometimes great at leaving things unsaid, but other times they beat you over the head with the same thing over and over again or go into explanations for stuff you'd think is understood. Example: Jude constantly repeating it is messed up she lives with the guy who killed her parents in book 1. Like. Okay. We know. Trust us we didn't forget it's wrong to kill people and steal their kids. Of course, her constantly thinking about her trauma is part of her character, but it can be expressed in different ways - examples of how this was done well were "I love Madoc, I could love anyone" or "I get scared and I remember the smell of my mother's insides". 2) The repeating stuff from my list of pros... where it doesn't belong. Sometimes characters do or say stuff because HB wants them to do or say them bc she likes to write about it, but it makes NO sense. This was my main issue with TSH - for example, there is absolutely no reason for Oak and Suren's relationship to draw parallels with Jude and Cardan's to the point of repeating phrases, because they are so different that it jerks me right out of the story being told. 3) The editor is asleep on the job. There are quite a few basic editing errors - the amount of times characters smile or grin per page, and the continuity errors. This is the most frustrating aspect because it is so easy to solve!!!!! Just read it once more and click delete!!!! 4) Sometimes HB's "let's go back and elaborate on something from the past to give it a new dimension" works great, and sometimes it makes no sense. Examples: the Ghost betraying Jude because he was forced to, Locke being an Undersea collaborator and a gancanagh. 5) Taryn. She gets her own point because I love her and it's so unsatisfying how she ended up. She spends 2 books girlbossing and being such a sympathetic traitor, then gets pregnant and decides to stop being the worst offscreen and never does another plot relevant thing again. I don't know if HB got tired of her or if she realized everyone hated her and decided to sideline her so people would stop yelling, but MAN is it such a standout bad conclusion among a sea of good ones. 6) JUSTICE FOR OAK GREENBRIAR MY SHORT KING he was always described as tiny and underdeveloped for his age RIGHT up until he became a love interest, when he SUDDENLY started towering over everyone while still overflowing with short king energy. This is a joke to end the list on a happy note but also I would pay for a version of TSH where my monster girl has to lean down to kiss her bf

#eggtina #eernask #eernask talk tfota

[vahalia-cress-ffxiv]

Shadowing Grace

A hunch. Osric wanted her to assume that he didn’t think what he had stumbled upon might have been a smuggling den based on a mere, unspoken hunch. A den no less that happened to be hunkered down in the Vigil and then to further house the envoy they had come across – a Garlean envoy no less – found smack dab in Ishgardian territory.

House Cress was now possibly housing an enemy or fugitive of her patron city within the very walls she supported and built. It had House Cress written all over it. 

Temple Knight favors. Supposed smuggling dens. A Garlean envoy….

Her hands shook the entire walk towards the barracks. Not from the bite of the clime or fear, not from anger but pure adrenaline she had felt pulsing throughout her body. It was a small wonder she had been able to contain her rage at all and not find something within that very dining hall to put into Osric herself if only to save herself from the insufferable missteps. 

Thoughtless. Blind. Tactless.

How did she not see that something like this could have turned around on them? How could she have faith that this small mission Osric had been set forth on wasn’t going to turn around and bite them in the ass?

Thing is, she didn’t know, but she still held on to that third chance. That willingness to allow Osric to make smart choices on behalf of House Cress. Both items, envoy and papers should have been relinquished to the Temple Knights – especially anything that had to do with the Vigil mission. Perhaps a misstep Osric hadn’t known he was making as he only sought to do good.

She had to repeat to herself over and over that Osric wasn’t aiming to undo anything nor had any intention. How could he know? But….he did indeed know the envoy was Garlean, he said as much upon meeting with her earlier.

Who was she kidding?

There was a monster within, edging at her senses, blinding her good conscience, and threatening to snuff what was left of her intellectual wakefulness. She was getting lost in the thick of herself, her feelings, her anger and her rage. For too long she had been watching the missteps and allowing Osric to fumble and catch himself and yelling would have done no good. Lashing out wouldn’t have fixed the problem.

Osric had offered to take steps to fix the issue – alas, his platitudes were not good enough. His verbal bandaids would not be good enough.

It would take her hand and the one thing she knew could make this right. A solemn declaration in which her allegiances lay. It was not with the den or the mission itself, it was not with the Garlean envoy or charity. It was not to her husband who seemingly had a knack for playing hero and suffering for it nor was it to any of those within the barracks.

First and foremost the allegiances lay solely in Ishgard or for as long as they needed to and above that…. House Cress. If there was a threat to upend that peace then it would have to be handled by any means necessary.

Such a task not suited for her husband’s delicate hands. He hadn’t the stomach.

She was the bad guy. The villain in his eyes yet he still didn’t seem to understand what his role required. A role he time and time again demanded to remain within yet hadn’t had the outfit or make to fill.

Slowly the door of the barracks opened and Vahalia stepped in, her eyes darted over the few within who had been in the dining hall taking their meals. It was her presence alone that had the whole of the room stop and stare, a silence that beat through the room for what seemed like eons though it was merely a fraction of a second, “The envoy?” Vahalia calmly asked, “Where is he?”

It was a youthful fellow who pointed to the man not too far from the hearth in the dimly lit room and it was at this moment that all eyes had settled between both Vahalia and this Cyprian goe Muzaka. Her eyes pinned intensely as she framed an order calmly at first, “Everyone out.”

The masses had barely begun to move and some chatter kicked up in the hall as the woman’s demand came. Surely they were all perplexed at a woman barking orders – some not even knowing who she was or having seen her face. Others only knowing of her by name. The lack of movement only brought Vahalia’s voice to rise, booming over the group once more, “ Out. NOW!”

The bodies moved and the screech of chairs along the stone below them groaned in protest, the envoy himself even starting to raise looking slightly confused at what was going on, “You.” she pointed at Cyprian, “Stay.”

She hadn’t moved with the bustling bodies shifted past her in a hurry, grabbing their boots and jackets to make for the double doors. In the commotion, she had barely even registered that they had been chattering about going to the forgotten knight. It was likely they’d fill their bellies with mead and ale rather than the warm meal they had been halfway through.

Finally, the double doors behind her came to a close and Vahalia stared at the man across from her who sat a decent 10 fulm from her near the large fireplace. The warmth of the room itself had barely even registered to Vahalia, her cheeks bitten pink from the cold she had just stepped in from. Her flesh felt like it was ablaze even more, a sensation coursing through her. Had she been anyone else she might have felt bad for the fair-haired man, perhaps no older than a few seasons past 39. What some would still consider to be young, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and shown a measure of hospitality that would be his undoing. He was well-kempt and looked well-versed and polite given how he held himself and his composure in the moment of confusion.

Golden eyes blinked away the reflection of the flames from the fire and she finally started to walk towards the man. Otherwise silent, her heels clicking along the ground in measured intent was what filled the room around them. It was here that Cyprian rose and wiped his hands in his slacks, ready to greet the woman proper whom he had not met yet but it was a good of a time as any to find out

Kind face, well-trimmed beard, and a stern face. He had even begun to bow and open his mouth to speak when Vahalia got within adequate distance to hold a proper conversation. It was easy to assume that he was indeed the fitting bill of an envoy. Barely a word made it past his lips when the blade in Vahalia’s concealed hand under her cloak slashed out and the glint of the fire caught the flat of the dagger. The hall was silent save for the swift splatter of blood that painted the stone adjacent to her and Cyprian.

Vahalia didn’t move and for a beat neither did Cyprian before his hands fumbled up to his throat, a guttural bubble of sound trying to make its way out of him as frantically he tried to contain the remnants of his lifesblood that pumped out from his wound, his neck smiling like the moon above, crimson and warm as he hunched forward and gasped, groping and tugging at the front of Vahalia’s cloak. Upon buckled knee he fell and not quite ready to give in as he clutched and clung, panic-stricken and fearful as the world around him dimmed ever more than it had already been. The passing glimpse of a tall and cold shadow hung over the woman who had just callously run him down without warning.

Who was she? What was that with her?

His lips moved and no sound came aside from the garbled spatter and burbling of what would have been his voice. Wet, death stricken and fatal. His world was overcast and fading as the final sensation he had endured was the ghastly and insufferable pain of the maw of the beast closing in around the front of his throat and suddenly it was not the floor that caught his blood but the cold, suckling mouth, teeth and tongue of the void-touched shadow drinking in what was left of his essence. His aether drained before he was retired from this plane of existence entirely.

All-consuming darkness took hold.

For a long while Vahalia watched in silence as Creature devoured, taking hold of his promise she had said she would deliver. Unbeknownst to her, it would be the Garlean envoy Osric opted to return home with. It was to save some other poor unfortunate soul upon the star but the choice worked out in her favor. Two birds with one stone….was that the saying?

It was as if the haze around her began to slowly lift and bit by bit the sounds of Creature hungrily feasting on the man came to cease. She felt high, drunk and in a lull that her urge was sated. Her anger subdued for the time being and had it not of been this Cyprian fellow, it very well could have been Osric himself.

She had made a pact and she aimed to deliver.

Now, the city itself couldn’t pin a scandal on her for cohorting with past and possibly present enemies if there was no possible enemy to speak of. Osric would pen his missive, return the goods and the head of the envoy could be delivered as simply duty. House Cress taking care of both the threat and the goods in one fell swoop.

Finally she breathed and budged from her spot, her attention gazing down at the crumpled body before her – she would need proof and luckily for her she had papers and remnants of a body to adequately fill that role.

This was but a fraction of the extent she was willing to go through for Hearth and Home. Mention(s): @osric-cress-ffxiv

#Stories #Blurbs #tw #tw; blood

[queenofzan]

okay so yes obviously i stayed up until 7am playing bg3

i recruited karlach, killed all the goblin leaders, went back to the grove, discovered my reward was something i had already looted (whoops lol), had a party, had wyll tell me if we were closer he would have come on to me?, got propositioned by astarion (said yes bc hey lae'zel specifically said this was only physical, and apparently nykki has a thing for dangerous and occasionally rude lovers idk) ("ani could you have even managed to play a character who turned astarion down?" shut up), got teased by shadowheart about it, had kind of an awkward tryst in the woods where i think even nykalaeni could tell something was weird, found an unexpected harpy's nest right outside the grove??? and a dead tiefling kid which isn't great, realized i forgot to find the infernal mechanic tiefling before they set off for baldur's gate, then warped to the goblin camp to get into the underdark and realized killing the leaders and the people in the room with the leaders is not actually the same thing as killing all the goblins and did okay but definitely had to immediately use up all my short rests in between rooms lmao, maybe recruited the owlbear cub??? to hang out at camp???, and went through priestess gut's rooms to the defiled temple and thence to the underdark

at one point when i switched lae'zel out of my party, the tadpole specimen she had switched to my tav, and in the middle of conversation i had a ???dream??? where my guardian was like EAT THE TADPOLE DO IT and nykalaeni was like. well what's one more gonna do? which nearly everyone hated but didn't seem to have any immediate negative effects.

(i did also at some point early in finishing off the goblin leaders have lae'zel show up to be like hey. you up. and nykalaeni had a good time being dommed by her hot gith friend to within an inch of her life. of course then lae'zel was like okay it's dawn time to get up and nykki was like. what. every single muscle in my body is aching and you want me to get up??? and lae'zel was like yeah dude it's dawn??? up and at em. this was great, maybe we'll do it again some time. PS this is absolutely just physical don't be weird. which i, the player, am very "uh huh" about, but which nykalaeni one hundred percent took at face value. this is her friend lae'zel, a sexy gith with whom she sometimes has sex, and this is her friend astarion, a sexy vampire with whom she sometimes has sex, and there is nothing more emotionally complex going on because surely they would tell her if that was the case!)

then, continuing her streak of being good at diplomacy but bad at interpersonal relationships, when we went back to camp nykki made a tasteless dirty joke about the scars on astarion's back and he was like that's not funny, which is pretty much par for the course. i think she's made a serious conversational misstep with everyone so far lmao

this characterization is a: funny and b: allows me to not be fucking insane about reloading and getting conversations "right"

(when i have to redo sections i'll usually still pick the "bad" dialogue options bc they're in character for nykalaeni. she's nosy! she thinks of it as normal curiosity but it comes off as weirdly pushy sometimes! and kind of judgy! she does not know how to be delicate in the course of a normal conversation! who's projecting it's called role-playing)

#ani plays bg3

[sarahswifts]

Taylor’s NYU Acceptance Speech

Hi, I’m Taylor. Last time I was in a stadium this size, I was dancing in heels and wearing a glittery leotard. This outfit is much more comfortable. I would like to say a huge thank you to NYU’s chairman of the board of trustees, Bill Berkley and all the trustees and members of the board, NYU’s president, Andrew Hamilton, provost Catherine Fleming, and the faculty and alumni here today who have made this day possible. I feel so proud to share this day with my fellow honorees, Suzanne Hatfield and Felix Montez Rodrigues, who humble me with the ways they improve our world with their work. As for me, I’m 90% sure the main reason I’m here is because I have a song called 22. And let me just say, I am elated to be here with you today as we celebrate and graduate New York University class of 2022. Not a single one of us here today has done it alone. We are each a patchwork quilt of those who have loved us, those who have believed in our futures, those who showed us empathy and kindness or told us the truth even when it wasn’t easy to hear. Those who told us we can do it when there was absolutely no proof of that. Someone read stories to you and taught you to dream and offered up some moral code of right and wrong for you to try and live by. Someone tried their best to explain every concept in this insanely complex world to the child that was you as you asked a bazillion questions like “how does the moon work?” and “why can we eat salad but not grass!” And maybe they didn’t do it perfectly, no one ever can. Maybe they aren’t with us anymore, in that case, I hope you remember them today. If they are in this stadium I hope you’ll find your own way to express your gratitude for all the steps and missteps that have led us to this common destination. I know that words are supposed to be my thing, but I will never be able to find the words to thank my mom and dad, my brother Austin, for the sacrifices they made every day so I could go from singing in coffee houses to standing up here with you all today because no words will ever be enough. To all the incredible parents, family members, mentors, teachers, allies, friends and loved ones here today who have supported these students in their pursuits for educational enrichment. Let me say to you now, Welcome to New York, it’s been waiting for you. I’d like to thank NYU for making me technically, on paper at least, a Doctor! Not the type of doctor you would want around in case of an emergency, unless your specific emergency was that you desperately needed to hear a song with a catchy hook and an intensely cathartic bridge section. Or, if your emergency was that you needed a person who can name over fifty breeds of cats in one minute. I never got to have a normal college experience per day. I went to public high school until tenth grade, and then finished my education doing homeschool work on the floors of airport terminals. Then I went out on the road for radio tours which sounds incredibly glamorous but in reality it consisted of a rental car, motels, and my mom and I pretending to have loud mother-daughter fights with each other during boarding so no one would want the empty seat between us on Southwest. As a kid, I always thought I would go away to college, imagining the posters I would hang on the wall of my freshman dorm… I even set the ending of my music video for my song Love Story at my fantasy imaginary college, where I meet a male model reading a book on the grass, and with one single glance we realize we have been in love in our past lives. Which is exactly what you guys experienced at some point in the last four years, right? But I really can’t complain about not having a normal college experience to you, because you went to NYU during a global pandemic. Being essentially locked into your dorms and having to do classes over zoom. Everyone in college during normal times stresses about test scores but on top of that, you also had to pass like a thousand COVID tests. I imagine the idea of a normal college experience was all you wanted too. But in this case, you and I both learned that you don’t always get all the things in the bag that you selected from the menu in the delivery service that is life. You get what you get. And as I would like to say to you, wholeheartedly, you should be very proud of what you’ve done with it. Today, you leave New York University and then go out into the world searching what’s next, and so will I. So as a rule, I try not to give anyone unsolicited advice unless they ask for it. I’ll go into this more later. I guess I have been officially solicited in this situation to impart whatever wisdom I might have to tell you things that have helped me so far in my life. Please bear in mind that I in no way feel qualified to tell you what to do. You worked and struggled and sacrificed and studied and dreamed your way here today. And so, you know what you’re doing. You’ll do things differently than I did them, and for different reasons. So I won’t tell you what to do because no one likes that. I will however, give you some life hacks I wish I knew when I was starting out my dreams of a career and navigating life, love, pressure, choices, shame, hope, and friendship. The first of which is: life can be heavy, especially if you try to carry it all at once. Part of growing up and moving into new chapters of your life is about catch and release. What I mean by that is: knowing what things to keep and what things to release. You can’t carry all things: all grudges, all updates on your ex, all enviable promotions your school bully got at the hedge fund his uncle started. Decide what is yours to hold and let the rest go. Often times, the good things in your life are lighter anyway, so there’s more room for them. One toxic relationship can outweigh so many wonderful simple joys. You get to pick what your life has time and room for. Be discerning. Secondly, learn to live alongside cringe. No matter how hard you try to avoid being cringe, you will look back on your life and cringe retrospectively. Cringe is unavoidable over a lifetime. Even the term cringe might someday be deemed cringe. I promise you, you’re probably doing or wearing something right now that you will look back on later and find revolting and hilarious. We can’t avoid it, so don’t try to. For example, I had a phase where for the entirety of 2012, I dressed like a 1950’s housewife. But you know what, I was having fun. Trends and phases are fun. Looking back and laughing is fun. And while we’re talking about things that make us squirm but really shouldn’t, I’d like to say, I’m a big advocate for not hiding your enthusiasm for things. It seems to me that there is a false stigma around eagerness in our culture of unbothered ambivalence. This outlook perpetuates the idea that it’s not cool to want it. The people who don’t try are fundamentally more chic than people who do. And I wouldn’t know, because I’ve been a lot of things, but I’ve never been an expert on chic. But I’m the one who’s up here so you have to listen to me when I say this. Never be ashamed of trying. Effortlessness is a myth. The people who wanted it the least were the ones I wanted to date and be friends with in high school. The people who want it the most are the people I now hire to work for my company. I started writing songs when I was 12, and since then it’s been the compass guiding my life and in turn, my life guided my writing. Everything I do is just an extension of my writing. Whether it’s to write, directing videos, or short films, creating the visuals for a tour, or standing on a stage performing. Everything is connected by my love of the craft. The thrill of working through ideas and narrowing them down and polishing it all up in the end, editing, waking up in the middle of the night throwing out the old ideas because you thought of a newer better one, or a plot device that ties the whole thing together. There’s a reason they call it a hook. Sometimes a string of words ensnares me and I can’t focus on anything until it’s been recorded or written down. As a songwriter, I’ve never been able to sit still or stay in one creative place for too long. I’ve made and released eleven albums, and in the process, switched genres from country to pop to alternative to folk, and this might sound like a very songwriter-centric line of discussion, but in a way, I really do think we are all writers. And most of us write in a different voice for different situations. You write differently in your Instagram stories than you do in your senior thesis. Send a different type of email to your boss than you do your best friend from home. We are all literacy chameleons and I think it’s fascinating. It’s just a continuation of the idea that we are so many things all the time and I know it can be really overwhelming, figuring out who to be and when. Who you are now and how to act in order to get where you want to go. I have some good news: it’s totally up to you. I some terrifying news: it’s totally up to you. I said to you earlier that I don’t ever offer advice unless someone asked me for it and now I’ll tell you why. As a person who started my very public career at the age of fifteen, it came with a price. And that price was years of unsolicited advice. Being the youngest person in every room for over a decade meant that I was constantly being issued warnings from older members of the music industry, media, interviewers, executives, and this advice often presented itself as thinly veiled warnings. See, I was a teenager at a time when our society was absolutely obsessed with the idea of having perfect young female role models. It felt like every interview I did included slight barbs by the interviewer about me one day running off the rails. And that meant a different thing to every person who said it to me. I became a young adult while being fed the message that if I didn’t make any mistakes, all the children of America would grow up to be perfect angels. However if I did slip up, the entire earth would fall off its axis and it would be entirely my fault and I would go to pop star jail forever and ever. It was all centered around the idea that mistakes equal failure and ultimately the loss of any chance at a happy or rewarding life. This has not been my experience. My experience has been that my mistakes led to the best things of my life and being embarrassed when you mess up, it’s part of the human experience. Getting back up, dusting yourself off, and seeing who still wants to hang out with you afterward and laugh about it, that’s a gift. The times I was told no or wasn’t included, wasn’t chosen, didn’t win, didn’t make the cut, looking back, it really feels like those moments were as important if not more crucial than the moments I was told yes. Not being invited to the parties and sleepovers in my hometown made me feel hopelessly lonely. But because I felt alone, I would sit in my room and write the songs that would get me a ticket somewhere else. Having label executives in Nashville tell me that only thirty-five year old housewives listen to country music, and there was no place for a 13 year old on their roster made me cry in the car on the way home. But then, I’d post my songs on my MySpace - yes, MySpace - and I would message with other teenagers like me who loved country music, but just didn’t have anyone singing from their perspective. Having journalists write in-depth, often times critical pieces of who they perceived me to be made me feel like I was living in some weird simulation, but it also made me look inward to learn about who I actually am. Having the world treat my love life like a spectator sport in which I lose every single game was not a great way to date in my teens and twenties. But it taught me to protect my private life fiercely. Being publicly humiliated over and over again at a young age was excruciatingly painful, but it forced me to devalue the ridiculous notion of minute by minute ever-fluctuating social relevance and likability. Getting cancelled on the internet and nearly losing my career gave me an excellent knowledge of all the types of wine. I know I sound like a consummate optimist but I’m really not. I lose perspective all the time. Sometimes, everything just feels completely pointless. I know the pressure of living your life through the lens of perfectionism. And I know that I’m talking to a group of perfectionists because you are here today graduating from NYU. So this might be hard for you to hear. In your life, you will inevitably misspeak, trust the wrong person, underreact, overreact, hurt the people who didn’t deserve it. Overthink. Not think at all… and not deny any wrongdoings. Not take the steps to make it right. Feel very guilty. Let the guilt eat at you. Hit rock bottom. Finally address the pain you caused. Try to do better next time. Rinse, repeat. And I’m not gonna lie, these mistakes will cause you to lose things. I’m trying to tell you that losing things doesn’t just mean losing. A lot of the time when we lose things, we gain things too. Now you leave the structure and framework of school and chart your own path. Every choice you make leads to the next choice which leads to the next and I know it’s hard to know which path to take. There will be times in life where you need to stand up for yourself. Times when the right thing is actually to back down and apologize. Times when the right thing is to fight. Times when the right thing is to turn and run. Times to hold on with all you have and times to let go with grace. Sometimes the right thing to do is to throw out the old schools of thought in the name of progress and reform. Sometimes the right thing to do is to sit and listen to the wisdom of those who have come before us. How will you know what the right choice is in these crucial moments? You won’t. How do I give advice to this many people about their life choices? I won’t. The scary news is, you’re on your own now. But the cool news is, you’re on your own now. I leave you with this: we are led by our gut instincts, our intuition, our desires and fears, our scars and our dreams. And you will screw it up sometimes. So will I. And when I do, you will most likely read about it on the internet. Anyway, hard things will happen to us. We will recover. We will learn from it. We will grow more resilient because of it. And as long as we are fortunate enough to be breathing, we will breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, and breathe out. And I am a doctor now, so I know how breathing works. I hope you know how proud I am to share this day with you. We’re doing this together, so let’s just keep dancing like we’re the class of 22!

#taylor swift #nyu #doctorate #honorary doctorate #swiftie #swifties #red #taylor's version #red taylor's version #fearless #love story #fearless taylor's version #class of 2022 #class of 22 #new york university

[nathalycarv]

“Hi, I’m Taylor.

Last time I was in a stadium this size, I was dancing in heels and wearing a glittery leotard. This outfit is much more comfortable. 

I’d like to say a huge thank you to NYU‘s Chairman of the Board of Trustees, Bill Berkeley and all the trustees and members of the board, NYU’s President Andrew Hamilton, Provost Katherine Fleming, and the faculty and alumni here today who have made this day possible. I feel so proud to share this day with my fellow honorees Susan Hockfield and Felix Matos Rodriguez, who humble me with the ways they improve our world with their work. As for me, I’m…90% sure the main reason I’m here is because I have a song called ‘22’. And let me just say, I am elated to be here with you today as we celebrate and graduate New York University’s Class of 2022.

Not a single one of us here today has done it alone. We are each a patchwork quilt of those who have loved us, those who have believed in our futures, those who showed us empathy and kindness or told us the truth even when it wasn’t easy to hear. Those who told us we could do it when there was absolutely no proof of that. Someone read stories to you and taught you to dream and offered up some moral code of right and wrong for you to try and live by. Someone tried their best to explain every concept in this insanely complex world to the child that was you, as you asked a bazillion questions like, ‘how does the moon work’ and ‘why can we eat salad but not grass.’ And maybe they didn’t do it perfectly. No one ever can. Maybe they aren’t with us anymore, and in that case I hope you’ll remember them today. If they are here in this stadium, I hope you’ll find your own way to express your gratitude for all the steps and missteps that have led us to this common destination. 

I know that words are supposed to be my “thing,” but I will never be able to find the words to thank my mom and my dad, and my brother, Austin, for the sacrifices they made every day so that I could go from singing in coffee houses to standing up here with you all today because no words would ever be enough. To all the incredible parents, family members, mentors, teachers, allies, friends and loved ones here today who have supported these students in their pursuit of educational enrichment, let me say to you now: Welcome to New York. It’s been waiting for you. 

I’d like to thank NYU for making me technically, on paper at least, a doctor. Not the type of doctor you would want around in the case of an emergency, unless your specific emergency was that you desperately needed to hear a song with a catchy hook and an intensely cathartic bridge section. Or if your emergency was that you needed a person who can name over 50 breeds of cats in one minute.

I never got to have the normal college experience, per se. I went to public high school until tenth grade and finished my education doing homeschool work on the floors of airport terminals. Then I went out on the road on a radio tour, which sounds incredibly glamorous but in reality it consisted of a rental car, motels, and my mom and I pretending to have loud mother-daughter fights with each other during boarding so no one would want the empty seat between us on Southwest. 

As a kid, I always thought I would go away to college, imagining the posters I’d hang on the wall of my freshmen dorm. I even set the ending of my music video for my song “Love Story” at my fantasy imaginary college, where I meet a male model reading a book on the grass and with one single glance, we realize we had been in love in our past lives. Which is exactly what you guys all experienced at some point in the last four years, right?

But I really can’t complain about not having a normal college experience to you because you went to NYU during a global pandemic, being essentially locked into your dorms or having to do classes over Zoom. Everyone in college during normal times stresses about test scores, but on top of that you also had to pass like 1,000 COVID tests. I imagine the idea of a normal college experience was all you wanted too. But in this case, you and I both learned that you don’t always get all the things in the bag that you selected from the menu in the delivery service that is life. You get what you get. And as I would like to say to you, you should be very proud of what you’ve done with it. Today, you leave New York University and then you go out into the world searching for what’s next.  And so will I.

So as a rule, I try not to give anyone unsolicited advice unless they ask for it. I’ll go into this more later. I guess I have been officially solicited in this situation, to impart whatever wisdom I might have and tell you the things that helped me in my life so far. Please bear in mind that I, in no way, feel qualified to tell you what to do. You’ve worked and struggled and sacrificed and studied and dreamed your way here today and so, you know what you’re doing. You’ll do things differently than I did them and for different reasons. 

So I won’t tell you what to do because no one likes that. I will, however, give you some life hacks I wish I knew when I was starting out my dreams of a career, and navigating life, love, pressure, choices, shame, hope and friendship.

The first of which is…life can be heavy, especially if you try to carry it all at once. Part of growing up and moving into new chapters of your life is about catch and release. What I mean by that is, knowing what things to keep, and what things to release. You can’t carry all things, all grudges, all updates on your ex, all enviable promotions your school bully got at the hedge fund his uncle started. Decide what is yours to hold and let the rest go. Oftentimes the good things in your life are lighter anyway, so there’s more room for them. One toxic relationship can outweigh so many wonderful, simple joys. You get to pick what your life has time and room for. Be discerning.

Secondly, learn to live alongside cringe. No matter how hard you try to avoid being cringe, you will look back on your life and cringe retrospectively. Cringe is unavoidable over a lifetime. Even the term “cringe” might someday be deemed “cringe.”

I promise you, you’re probably doing or wearing something right now that you will look back on later and find revolting and hilarious. You can’t avoid it, so don’t try to. For example, I had a phase where, for the entirety of 2012, I dressed like a 1950s housewife. But you know what? I was having fun. Trends and phases are fun. Looking back and laughing is fun. 

And while we’re talking about things that make us squirm but really shouldn’t, I’d like to say that I’m a big advocate for not hiding your enthusiasm for things. It seems to me that there is a false stigma around eagerness in our culture of “unbothered ambivalence.” This outlook perpetuates the idea that it’s not cool to “want it.” That people who don’t try hard are fundamentally more chic than people who do. And I wouldn’t know because I have been a lot of things but I’ve never been an expert on “chic.” But I’m the one who’s up here so you have to listen to me when I say this: Never be ashamed of trying. Effortlessness is a myth. The people who wanted it the least were the ones I wanted to date and be friends with in high school. The people who want it most are the people I now hire to work for my company. 

I started writing songs when I was 12 and since then, it’s been the compass guiding my life, and in turn, my life guided my writing. Everything I do is just an extension of my writing, whether it’s directing videos or a short film, creating the visuals for a tour, or standing on stage performing. Everything is connected by my love of the craft, the thrill of working through ideas and narrowing them down and polishing it all up in the end. Editing. Waking up in the middle of the night and throwing out the old idea because you just thought of a newer, better one. A plot device that ties the whole thing together. There’s a reason they call it a hook. Sometimes a string of words just ensnares me and I can’t focus on anything until it’s been recorded or written down. 

As a songwriter, I’ve never been able to sit still, or stay in one creative place for too long. I’ve made and released 11 albums and in the process, I’ve switched genres from country to pop to alternative to folk. This might sound like a very songwriter-centric line of discussion but in a way, I really do think we are all writers. And most of us write in a different voice for different situations. You write differently in your Instagram stories than you do your senior thesis. You send a different type of email to your boss than you do your best friend from home.

We are all literary chameleons and I think it’s fascinating. It’s just a continuation of the idea that we are so many things, all the time. And I know it can be really overwhelming figuring out who to be, and when. Who you are now and how to act in order to get where you want to go. I have some good news: it’s totally up to you. I also have some terrifying news: it’s totally up to you.

I said to you earlier that I don’t ever offer advice unless someone asks me for it, and now I’ll tell you why: As a person who started my very public career at the age of 15, it came with a price. And that price was years of unsolicited advice. Being the youngest person in every room for over a decade meant that I was constantly being issued warnings from older members of the music industry, the media, interviewers, executives. This advice often presented itself as thinly veiled warnings. See, I was a teenager in the public eye at a time when our society was absolutely obsessed with the idea of having perfect young female role models. It felt like every interview I did included slight barbs by the interviewer about me one day “running off the rails.”

That meant a different thing to everyone person said it me. So I became a young adult while being fed the message that if I didn’t make any mistakes, all the children of America would grow up to be perfect angels. However, if I did slip up, the entire earth would fall off its axis and it would be entirely my fault and I would go to pop star jail forever and ever. It was all centered around the idea that mistakes equal failure and ultimately, the loss of any chance at a happy or rewarding life. 

This has not been my experience. My experience has been that my mistakes led to the best things in my life. 

And being embarrassed when you mess up is part of the human experience. Getting back up, dusting yourself off and seeing who still wants to hang out with you afterward and laugh about it? That’s a gift.

The times I was told no or wasn’t included, wasn’t chosen, didn’t win, didn’t make the cut…looking back, it really feels like those moments were as important, if not more crucial, than the moments I was told “yes.”

Not being invited to the parties and sleepovers in my hometown made me feel hopelessly lonely, but because I felt alone, I would sit in my room and write the songs that would get me a ticket somewhere else. Having label executives in Nashville tell me that only 35-year-old housewives listen to country music and there was no place for a 13-year-old on their roster made me cry in the car on the way home.

But then I’d post my songs on my MySpace — yes, MySpace — and would message with other teenagers like me who loved country music, but just didn’t have anyone singing from their perspective. Having journalists write in-depth, oftentimes critical, pieces about who they perceive me to be made me feel like I was living in some weird simulation, but it also made me look inward to learn about who I actually am. Having the world treat my love life like a spectator sport in which I lose every single game was not a great way to date in my teens and twenties, but it taught me to protect my private life fiercely. Being publicly humiliated over and over again at a young age was excruciatingly painful but it forced me to devalue the ridiculous notion of minute by minute, ever-fluctuating social relevance and likability. Getting canceled on the internet and nearly losing my career gave me an excellent knowledge of all the types of wine. 

I know I sound like a consummate optimist, but I’m really not. I lose perspective all the time. Sometimes everything just feels completely pointless. I know the pressure of living your life through the lens of perfectionism. And I know that I’m talking to a group of perfectionists because you are here today graduating from NYU. And so this may be hard for you to hear: In your life, you will inevitably misspeak, trust the wrong people, under-react, overreact, hurt the people who didn’t deserve it, overthink, not think at all, self-sabotage, create a reality where only your experience exists, ruin perfectly good moments for yourself and others, deny any wrongdoing, not take the steps to make it right, feel very guilty, let the guilt eat at you, hit rock bottom, finally address the pain you caused, try to do better next time, rinse, repeat.  And I’m not gonna lie, these mistakes will cause you to lose things.

I’m trying to tell you that losing things doesn’t just mean losing. A lot of the time, when we lose things, we gain things too. 

Now you leave the structure and framework of school and chart your own path. Every choice you make leads to the next choice which leads to the next, and I know it’s hard to know sometimes which path to take. There will be times in life when you need to stand up for yourself. Times when the right thing is to back down and apologize. Times when the right thing is to fight, times when the right thing is to turn and run. Times to hold on with all you have and times to let go with grace. Sometimes the right thing to do is to throw out the old schools of thought in the name of progress and reform. Sometimes the right thing to do is to listen to the wisdom of those who have come before us. How will you know what the right choice is in these crucial moments? You won’t.

How do I give advice to this many people about their life choices? I won’t.

Scary news is: you’re on your own now.

Cool news is: You’re on your own now.

I leave you with this: We are led by our gut instincts, our intuition, our desires and fears, our scars and our dreams. And you will screw it up sometimes. So will I. And when I do, you will most likely read about on the internet. Anyway…hard things will happen to us. We will recover. We will learn from it. We will grow more resilient because of it. 

As long as we are fortunate enough to be breathing, we will breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. And I’m a doctor now, so I know how breathing works. 

I hope you know how proud I am to share this day with you. We’re doing this together. So let’s just keep dancing like we’re… The class of 22.”

- Taylor Swift

@taylorswift

#taylor swift #taylornation

[kingkatsuki]

jo, please let me tell you about the idea i dreamt up on my 8 hour car ride home.

okay, imagine reader is in the support course classes, and has a quirk where they can tell the danger levels of people, and lots of other stats (think video game stats basically, lol)

anyway, they dream of working at an agency and being able to help heroes level up their abilities and improve on what they lack. And after three years of honing their skills they’re finally able to put them to the test and have been assigned to do a diagnostic of all the hero course students and provide plans for their improvement as a capstone project.

so they’re brought into 3A to be introduced, and reader isn’t surprised to see the room is filled with 7s and 8s, a few 9s, one glaringly gold 10 above the kid with green hair (that looks suspiciously similar to all mights) but that’s not what causes reader to do a double take.

no, because why the hell is there a 1 sitting in the back? isn’t this the hero course? haven’t they all been to hell and back to be able to graduate in a few months?

but you’re cut off from your internal thoughts when aizawa is done with your introduction and all of a sudden everyone is clammering to know their number, and who’s the highest, blah blah blah when a deep snarl cuts through,

“why the hell should we care what this extra sees? i already know i’m at a god damn ten”

it’s the 1 speaking. and he’s glaring at you with some sort of conceited boredom that sets you off, because who the fuck is he to doubt your quirk?

and you can’t even stop your mouth if you wanted to when you say “well you do have a one in your score, but it’s not because you’re a ten”

the room is dead silent and as the 1’s face goes from shock to anger in less seconds than his score you realize you might have misstepped, well until the 9 next to him bursts out laughing, followed by a few others around him.

and the 1 starts sparking in anger, literally, before getting cut off by aizawa who dismisses everyone and tells them to sign up with your availability after class.

everyone is still badgering you to know their number but you just say you’ll tell them during their session. it’s not something you like to announce, especially since the numbers can change, and you’re already feeling bad for outing the 1 in front of everyone. even if he did deserve it.

and as the golden ten is talking your ear off and asking the logistics of your quirk, someone shove him out of the way.

“quit pestering her, deku” the 1 says with a snarl.

“oh! sorry kacchan! you probably want to talk to her too!”

from anyone else it might have been taken as a thin veiled dig, but the golden ten seems earnest and scampers off before the 1 can do anything about it.

“you can sign up there.” you point the paper, most slots already taken as he’s the last one in the room

“tell me what it really says.” he snaps.

“i did.” you refuse to look away.

“bullshit! i’m the best in the class!”

you blink, concentrating on the other numbers floating around him. and he might be right.

high marks on his attack and defense, strategic is through the roof, and all others impressive too.

“huh.” so why is he a 1?

“huh, what?”

you shrug, “listen, i don’t know what you want me to say. i see the numbers as what they are.”

“and?”

“and you’re a 1.”

his face twists into a mean sneer, grabbing your hand “let’s go.”

“wha- where are we going?!” and even though he’s dragging your out of the room his hold on you is gentle and sends a thrill up your arm.

“showing you what this 1 can do!” he throws over his shoulder, stomping in the direction of ground beta.

and well, you don’t really have plans anyway, and you are interested in getting to the bottom of this anomaly too.

maybe just then you’ll figure out the truth to your quirk. and while katsuki might be a threat of a 10 to everyone else on this planet, he’ll always be a 1 for you ❤️

This sounds like a great idea, Anon!👌🏻

#not mine #long post

[colormepurplex2]

More, more, more 👀

On weird questions 5, 6 and 11 PLIZ :3

More, more, more! Yes! Here, here, here 💜

Weird Questions For Writers:

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true? Oh...umm...👀 the first thing that comes to mind is not starting a fic until I have a title set for it. I know that might seem counterintuitive to some, but I need it before I can begin otherwise, to me, the story has no foundation and can easily fall apart. However, I am okay with the title changing, if the story and writing process take me in a different direction than the original title was directing me. For instance, Chasing Shadows was originally titled Shot In The Dark, but as the story developed, the title did, too.

Another one is that I can't have a character with a name that is the same as someone I know or a family member. I work so hard on names sometimes just so I can avoid a name that reminds me of someone. Unless it's the name of a villain or something, I'm working on a fic right now where a character is named Chaddick, which is a play on the name Chad + dick (all Chads that I know are dicks) and even though I know people named Chad, I'm okay with using the name because it holds more significance for my story than the person in real life holds in my life, if that makes sense? I even have a hard time reading stories that use people in my family or close friends' names. I tried reading a story a few months ago where one of the main male characters had the same name as my kiddo and I ended up having to DNF it simply because I couldn't read that name without thinking about my kid.

6. What is your darkest fear about writing? My darkest fear about writing? I think it would be acceptable to say something like rejection or low reception...but, when I honestly think about it, I believe the thing I fear the most is becoming one of those writers that don't care about sensitivities or growth. I've always tried to make it a point to not write about potentially discriminating things. I purposely try not to include a physical description or use those physically descriptive words when I write a reader insert story. At the same time, I also try to be informed on social issues and keep those in mind when writing as well. I don't want to ever come off as offensive, even if it's accidental or not intentional. The worst thing I could do as a writer is make someone uncomfortable or feel out of place in my works. It's not always been easy, and I know I've made missteps that I've learned from...but, that's my darkest fear, becoming blind to those things I've worked so hard to open my eyes to. As someone who has fought their own battles in similar areas, I understand just how important being open to learning, change, and growth is.

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve? This...makes me sad haha. I have done it...sort of. I never truly 'kill' the darling. I will take whatever bit of the story that needs to come out/be killed and I'll drop it into another doc. I hate the idea of writing being completely deleted, so I'll just hang on to it until the time is right and introduce it in another story or a different place of the one it was removed from. Of course, minor changes might be necessary for the darling, but it'll never truly die...even if it lives inside my WIP ideas folder for the rest of its life 👀

These questions were so good, made me really think. There are more if you're interested 💜

#tag game #fic writer asks #weird questions for writers #thank you cherry love #cherrysoulth inquiry

[metal-bubble]

Untitled, 2022 (unfinished)

1599 words, written by me lol metal.bubble

PG rated: cursing only, non romantic, astro canon compliant..

Jinjin POV - about MyungBin

Set as they prepared for/filmed for AstroScope concert/movie

Wanted to share bc these feeling were eating me alive. Hope other arohas may understand...

SUMMARY: Jinjin has to find and diffuse an irrationally angry moonbin just days before they're set to do their stargazer: AstroScope concert. why does he feel like this wouldn't br happening if MJ was still here..?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Fuck this.."

Jinwoo sighed as he shoved a forgotten stage prop back into its place.

Exasperated, he pushed his long fringe out of his eyes and off his forehead. Where the fuck was Bin...

Jinwoo power walked through one dark backstage hallway after another, opening doors, and snooping in dark corners. Where the fuck did that lunatic sneak away to? This venue was only so big, but the leader wasn't picking up any sort of trail.

Moments ago, Jinwoo was rehearsing his solo stage for their first concert without Myungjun. Things were going great. They were practically running ahead of schedule. Jinwoo was so confident in his solo stage rehearsals too. He was riding cloud 9, and didnt have time for Bin to be a fucking buzzkill like this.

Jinwoo hadnt been off the mainstage for 20 seconds before he got a text from one of the stage managers that read:

"Binsan emergency, assistant required in the practice room :("

Shit.. that could mean only one thing: Bin had pushed Sanha too hard. Again... Why the fuck couldnt Bin control his whack-ass behavior? Was it really too much to ask??

Yes. Yes it definitely was. And Jinwoo knew it too. Bin had never had to go this long without his emotional support blanket of their oldest member: Myungjun.

Their eldest member served as a magnet that pulled Bin out of his natural path of introvertedness. Its like Myungjun had some sort of legit spell over the kid. If Myungjun laughed, Bin would laugh. If Myungjun saw Bin starting to clam up or get angry, he somehow always knew exactly how to pull Bin out of it. Jinwoo felt guilty now for relying on the older boy so much when it came to Bin and Bin's emotions.

Myungjun had only been gone a few days before Jinwoo began to notice Bin changing. It started with some mild self isolation. Bin would stay way past the time they were scheduled to leave practice sessions. Saying he just wanted to keep his mind busy. Myungjun was usually the one who forces Bin to come back with them to the dorm. Myungjun just seemed to cast a spell on Bin, and Bin would listen.

The recent sleepless nights had turned into Bin developing an anxiety-driven aggression towards the other members. Practices had started to regularly derail as Bin kept stopping to harass Sanha and Dongmin over every single misstep they made.

Dongmin had been handling it the best. It took an army to actually set off the prince of tranquility's anger. And Dongmin could clearly see that Bins behavior wasnt normal, so he managed to put up with it. But Sanha.. Sanha on the other hand had begun to crack.

At first the maknae had been willing to fix anything Bin pointed out, as he usually respected and trusted anything Bin said to him regarding performances. But Jinwoo watched as confusion and anger began to build in Sanha's eyes with every angry/anoxioustghtdhhth in we vbe hg insult Bin threw at him. Bin had never critiqued Sanha to the point of belittling him so harshly. Jinwoo had deescalated many tense moments as Sanha began to push back at Bin's needless over critiquing and micromanaging.

Unfourtunalty, just a week prior, the two had gotten inches away from an all out fist fight.

Jinwoo had tried talking to Bin. But Bin's anxiety got the best of him.

**Bout a week ago**

"Why did you bring ME out here hyung?? That SHITHEAD is the reason im so angry! We ALL see him fucking up nearly every choreo!! I know im not crazy.. im not just seeing things!! Right?? Tell me you see it too?

"No one said you are crazy. But Bin, you gott-.."

"NO! If i dont FIX all these FUCKUPS before the filming day, we're ALL gonna look like SHIT. You guys are NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH! Especially fucking Sanha. That.. that fucking talentless... Godddd"

Bin punched the hallway wall closest to him and kicked an unlucky, stray chair that happened to be in the hallway at the wrong time. It loudly flew half way down the hall. Bin looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

"Bin.. Bin... Bin look at me! Fuck, please breath and stop insulting Sanha. You are NOT helping anything by bitching like this and getting so angry. Do you understand me??"

"Why are YOU not as angry as i am?

Bin voice started to shake.

Your the LEADER GODDAMMIT.. i.. i-"

Jinwoo could see the breaking point closing in. He had to calm this mother fucker down.. and he hadda do it now.

"Bin.. please. Lets do those breathing practices we used to do, remember? The slow ones?"

Jinwoo grabbed Bins hands in his and held as tightly as he could. Bins hands were shaking too. His emotions were completely out of control.

Bin started to take a massively slow and unstable deep breath.

"Yes Bin, thats right. Push all the air out before breathing in. Come on, get it all out. Close your eyes"

Bin submitted and forced his eyes shut, as tears began to leak from the corners.

"Ok, now lets slowly start to let that air back in. Dont rush it, its not going anywhere. Slowly.. thats good. Ok now keep going till you fill those lungs entirely."

Jinwoo watched Bins chest slowly inflate with mild hitching and shaking.

"Thank you Bin. You're doing so well. Do you wanna keep going?"

Bin took two more shaky deep breaths.

"No. I think im fine now. But..."

Bin opened his eyes and looked down the hall at the chair.

"I think i need to go home for today. I cant go back in there. It'll happen again. I dont know why i cant turn off how horrible i feel and how nervous i am. And... I hate that im doing this. But when the anger comes, its impossible to stop."

Jinwoo pulled Bin into a hug. Bin let out a small sob as he leaned down to bury his face into the leaders shoulder.

"Its ok Bin, you can go home and try to relax. We have many more days to practice."

"Im sorry hyung. Im so sorry."

"Thank you for calming down Bin. I wish i was as good as Myungjun at cheering you up, but im trying my best"

Jinwoo let out a small chuckle.

Bin released their hug and faced the older boy

"What?"

Jinwoo then realized he said that out loud. Fuck... He definitely had never actually said anything about that theory to Bin before this moment. Mega foot in ass move there.

"Oh... Sorry. I just.. have noticed over the years that Myungjun seems to be able to.. idk, um.. he's just better at.. like..."

Bin looked so legitimately confused.

"Better at what hyung?"

Jinwoo rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Goddamn, you know! He just tells you to do something and you do it, but its all good things that make you seem happier. Like i never noticed how much he keeps you from isolating urself untill he wasnt here. Or how he seems to be able to instantly reverse you when you get mad or sad. And i feel stupid for never seeing it before. But i mean.. think about it. When did you start to feel so anxious and angry all the time? Cuz it seems like it started after Myungjun left."

"The fuck..?"

Bin paused and looked deep in thought for a moment. Jinwoo saw the lights going on in Bins head. Bins cheeks even began to flush a bit.

"Damn hyung.. ur right! I started to feel really shitty after he left. Goddammit.."

"I mean.. hey - don't get embarrassed, its only something I've thought recently."

"Do you think... Does everyone know??"

"Bin.. no, literally i just thought this and haven't even said it out loud till right now. So no, i dont think everyone thinks that. And besides.. its not like it's a bad thing."

"But hyung.. like.. why? Why am i doing this? Why cant i get it.. why cant i fucking NOT get angry without HIM??"

Jinwoo could sense Bin working himself up again.

"Bin. Its normal to have new and different feelings when someones routine is drastically changed. Not having Myungjun is a big change. We all are having to adjust to him not being here. He is a huge presence."

Jinwoo put his hand on Bin's shoulder.

"Why don't you head home and.. idk.. text him? I think it might make you feel a little better, right?"

Bin flushed harder and looked down.

"Ok hyung... Ur right. I'll.."

Bin let out a heavy sigh.

"... I'll try to text him"

**Back to present**

Jinwoo wondered if Bin followed thru with that now. He'd have to ask whenever he found him.

He continued to run through the venue hallways, looking for Bin.

He had arrived too late to the practice room braul to stop the fight Bin and Sanha had moments ago. Only the stage mamager and backup dancers were left when he slid in. Sanha was taken care of nearby with Minhyuk, but Bin had fled the scene entirely. And now Jinwoo was tasked with finding him.

Aparently, it was the same old same old. Bin flipping out on the younger for not living up to some irrational standard set by Bin's anxiety. And it had escalated to the two throwing water bottles and other objects at each other and any poor soul around them.

He felt sweat on his forehead... Damn. This was entirely too much

#astro #moonbin #Myungjun #myungbin #astro fanfic

[engbergeurovacay23]

Friday in L'Esartit

On Friday, the kids woke up and went basically directly to the pool outside our back gate of our townhouse here in L'Estartit, Spain, on the Costa Brava. The pool back there is not huge--basically just a bit bigger than your average backyard pool, but it is a wonderful temperature and the view of the mountains just beyond it is lovely. We'd gone to the Spar grocery the night before, so we had breakfast foods at the ready, but I tell ya, the kids are so picky. I bought wheat bread that looked pretty innocuous only to discover that there were *larger* pieces of wheat in the bread, and, thus, it was bread non grata for Cece. Despite some missteps with breakfast, the kids seemed fueled up enough to splash around, cannonball, and generally frolic in the pool for a while.

After breakfast, we decided to go on a driving adventure. We wanted to go to a town near by, with a beach, called Aigua Blava, and we very much took the scenic route there -- but what a scenic route it turned out to be! First of all, we drove out of our neighborhood in a direction of some farms, where we saw huge sunflowers drooping their heads, fields and fields of them. Then, we saw one field with sunflower-heads pointing up and we stopped to take a picture. We continued down that road, and we saw all of these amazing orchards with what turned out to be apple trees with net canopies above them, with the trees basically trellis-ed in a fashion I have not seen before. There was some other fruit tree that I could not make out--maybe nectarine? These orchards and farming plots were very rich and fertile, as this area is right by a a river and right by the sea, so the climate is probably pretty primo for growing things.

We wended our way through the agricultural area toward a main local highway because we were trying to actually stop at a store before we headed towards Aigua Blava. We wanted to check out the TEDi, which Eric has explored in Madrid and said I had to check out. OK, so he was right -- we did have to check it. I am all about European discount stores ;) I wrote extensively about the Finnish chain Tokmanni last year and I am sure I will again in a few weeks. So, TEDi apparently is a German company and I will describe the stores thus: they are sort of a small-format Ikea-ish, $5-ish model, with everything from craft supplies, to table ware, to some clothes, to luggage, to hair items, to school supplies--but no food. But, yes candy. Much of the stuff is made in China, but not all. I did some close examining. They had amazing office supplies, including some pen brands I would buy as a kid (Faber Castell, Stabilo Boss, etc.). I do love me some pens!! So, I bought a rather random assortment of things for about 20 Euros, including some really cute napkins, and Eric was like, napkins? And I said, yes, napkins. They are the perfect souvenir. So light and so small! And whenever I use them when my parents come to dinner and I set the table with them, memories of travel wash over me! After TEDi, we popped into the Carrefour grocery for just a few things (oil for cooking and shampoo/conditioner since our place here has none) and then went on our merry way toward Aigua Blava.

So, the road to Aigua Blava winds way up a mountain side and the whole area is gorgeous! Just so gorgeous! I cannot even explain it. You can see out over this beautiful turquoise blue bay and there are incredible homes squeezed into the hillside nooks-and-crannies. Once we did approach Aigua Blava itself we encountered a sign that said parking was "completo," and we were like, oh no. So, we drove up another steep hill and parked next to some twenty-somethings who we actually had to ask to move their car over so we could squeeze in too. And we walked down the hill, Cece took a tumble on the curbside and scraped up her knee, and then eventually we arrived at the beach itself. Poor Cece was bleeding from the knee and was so worried about getting into the water, because it might sting. But she did and seemed to soon forget her injuries. The beach was so, so pretty -- but really quite small and very busy, inclusive of topless bathers! We didn't remark on it and the kids seemed nonplussed. I say, go for it, topless gals! I would never feel comfortable in such an arrangement with my own swimwear, but, for them, carpe diem. No tan lines is the upside, I guess. It is culturally not an outlier here, for a small percentage of folks who do it, and no one seems to notice or care.

We stayed at the beach for about two hours and then we drove back to L'Estartit, for more pool swimming. Friday night we had dinner at place again and then took a walk, and, like all of our walks, it went on much longer than we expected, and so it was another 10 p.m.-and-beyond bedtime. But the walk included gelato, which, per Alia, is something one should have everyday on vacation, sometimes multiple times, so, really, we are just following those rules ;)

I did want to follow up on all of the security measures these holiday homes have -- despite the seeming nonexistence of roving bands of marauders. I checked the online statistic just to be sure, but L'Estartit is a safe small town. I mean, I live in Albuquerque and have a home alarm there, but here, I was really surprised that there is a locked outer door, a locked inner door, an alarm, on the front of the townhouse, and then on the back, a glass slider with a screw-in bolt, a roll down metal shade, an accordion-style gate that goes outside of that, which locks with a key, and all of the townhomes seem to follow this approach! I mean, the shutters I have always assumed in Europe were for heat mitigation (we actually have them in Albuquerque and use them for that), for people to try to keep the place cooler without a/c during the heat of the day. But, the whole multiple-layers-of-gates-and-doors apart from the shutters, even on the second floor, really throws me off. We need to talk to a local to get to the bottom of this.

So, more soon about our Saturday, which was a great and fun day! Just a few more days in Spain before we head to the Pyrenees on the French side where the weather will be much cool and the altitude much higher!

[aceyanaheim]

Hey

HEY 

H EY 

Julie and The Phantoms really gave me a son who is estranged from his parents but misses them So Much and its Messy but he Loves them and they Love him and both would die to fix it but can’t to the lyrics of “ When things got loud//One of us running out//I should have turned around//But I had too much pride” and “ If you could only know//I never let you go//And the words I most regret// Are the ones I never meant to leave [ unsaid] “ and “ Silent days//Mysteries and mistakes///Who'd be the first to break?//Guess we're alike that way “ and expects me to be okay with that??? Like Hello???? Don’t you know who I am??? HOW VERY MUCH DARE brb crying

#acey watches #Julie And The Phatomms #dont loook at me okay dont touch me IA M IN A CASE OF EMOTIONS #caps cw #SOMEONE HUG LUKE WTF #i jsut... #yeah okay toxic/abusive parents are something im weak for in characters #but tbh??? #tbh??? #What I'm even more weak for is the Not Quite Bad Paretns #the We Tried/We Didn't Mean To/Oh God If I Could Tell Them parents/kids relationships #bc its not as simple then as 'they're bad and im out' #because theres sometihng so...so tragic about parents who didn't know what they were doing would bring harm #who regret that every day but also don't quite know how to fix it #who set out to do right by their kid and at some point one misstep led to another andknow here their kid is looking from the other side of #resentment #how the love shines through like sunlight through gnarled branches but it doesn't erase the thorniness of all the things neither side- #-meant to say and neither knows how to fix it but Oh How They Wish They Did Oh Hwo They Want To #i go FERAL #and with Luke..they're literally unable to get anywhere outsied of a shattered relationship #literally trying to find closure with a ghost #they werent trying not to be supportive and he kept thinking he should call and in the end neither intention changes What Happened and #a few mistepps...led to this #its kjsalfhs dfITS SO GOOD LISTEN #I LOVE THIS #BUT OWWWWW #BUT YES GOOD #BUT I MEAN KAY GUESS ILL CRY #DONT LOOK AT ME lol

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Limp Noodle ~ S.H.

A/n: I have never once been good at making choices so I’ll be doing both OOF! This request is dirt old but whatever. I’m actually writing requests now look at me go!

Request: “...prompt 20 or 21 Steve Harrington x clumsy male reader” by anon

#20 (here): “I can’t do this without you”

#21: “Guess who broke their nose! Me. It’s me. I broke my nose.”

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

“Are you SURE that this is a good idea?” The words came from Y/n as Steve parked the car, waving through the windshield window at Jonatan, Nancy, Robin and a new friend, Bianca. They’d all decided on a triple date and like idiots they’d let Steve, Bianca, and Nancy decide so they were now all headed on a hike. Robin was the least athletic of all of them and hated exercise of any kind. Jonathan was the one in the group who hated being outside in the sun and much preferred being inside cuddled on the could other swaddled in bed. Y/n... well Y/n was the single most clumsy person you’ve ever met.

Now, take whatever image that popped in your head when I said that and then make it ten times worse. Then take THAT mental image and multiply by it by ten AGAIN. Y/n was worse. He was absolutely sure he was going to thrip and fall over the side of some steep hill and fully die. He would be lucky to make it out of this trip without a stick going through his eye. Y/n and the outdoors didn’t mix. They never had. He could barely walk, let alone when it was uphill and outside and humid and hard to breathe and everyone was so beautiful and distracting.

Steve didn’t agree with that analysis.

“This is a great idea actually,” Steve decided with complete confidence. “Don’t worry about it okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Incorrect,” Y/n Aries immediately. “We started dating because I tripped seven times and you caught me every single one. I tripped seven times in three days Steve - and that was just the, what, one hour a day you’re with me? In THREE HOURS I TRIPPED SEVEN TIMES!” He was whisper yelling, getting rather heated. “I’m going to knock my head into a tree and bleed out.”

Steve laughed. He reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hands. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “That is a cheap trick, Harrington.”

In response Steve only raised his eyebrows. When Y/n refused to answer, Steve sighed. “Y/n. Do you trust me?”

Closing his eyes a second, Y/n held in a sigh. When he opened them again, he managed a small smile. “Yeah. I trust you.” Steve went to get out of the car and Y/n caught his wrist. “Just promise you’re going to stay with me okay? I can’t do this without you. I’m serious.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on Drama King.” They both got out and made their way over to the other four.

“Hey guys!” Nancy greeted warmly. She had calmed a lot since Y/n had first met her. Darkened. But she was still pleasant enough, and Y/n tolerated her for Steve. He didn’t know why they were all friends after Nancy’s brutal ripping up Steve’s heart but... he expected it was that trauma bonding things that Steve and Robin refused to ever talk about with Y/n in the room.

“Hey bestie.” Robin winked at Y/n and he felt himself relax. Around her he always felt more comfortable. She got him on a much deeper level than Steve did. She had actually been the one to set them up after failure after failure of Steve’s attempts on girls who came to the ice cream shop they met at originally. It had gone up in flames recently, but they’d snagged a job at a movie store so they still worked together. Y/n was pretty sure neither of them would have it any other way, even if they sometimes pretended to hate each other.

“Hey loser,” Y/n joked back. Robin shoved him and he laughed, accidentally ramming into Jonathan as his feet almost came out underneath him. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbled.

Robin scoffed in amusement. “I always forget you have two backward feet.” This was something she said often, in reference to the popular statement of ‘two left feet’. One day Robin had proclaimed that Y/n was something worse than two left feet, and then being backward had kicked off as an inside joke.

“I’d you have that problem standing still, how do you think you’re going to do on a hike?” It seemed Bianca was trying to get in on the joking, but it hit a hard cord with Y/n.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke. “What can I say? Great day to die.” He put on the fakest smile ever. “Come on everyone!” Then he began to surge ahead, onto the trail, and the others scrambled to catch up.

It didn’t tale long for Nancy and Bianca to hit the head of the trail. Steve dutifully stayed by Y/n, but he watched the girls head with a sort of forlorness. Because Y/n was so slow and Jonathan and Robin lagged even behind him, the two girls in front were racing up and down the steep sides of the path they were on, jumping over logs and hopping up on stumps to make the path harder. They were laughing hard and having a great time. Y/n knew that Steve desperately wanted to join them.

What kind of a boyfriend would Y/n be to stop him? “Go on,” Y/n sighed, nudging Steve forward encouragingly.

Steve looked at Y/n with an expression that tried far too hard at innocence to succeed. It was so obvious he was full of crap that Y/n was rolling his eyes before the brunette even spoke. “What? What do you mean? I’m having a great time with my boyfriend which was the point of this whole thing. Have I bored you already?”

“No, but I’ve bored you. Go and do parkour with the bad ass chicks up there. Go on.” Steve hesitated, but when Y/n shot him a look, he finally did speed ahead to catch up and join in the unnecessary shenanigans that gave Y/n extreme anxiety just imagining himself doing. He sighed watching Nancy and Steve. He knew that things were WAY over between them, but Y/n found a little jealousy in the way they worked together so fluidly. They were perfect for each other - even as friends. She just kept up with him and challenged him in a way that Y/n never could, and Steve thrived.

Slowing down in his moment of annoyance, Robin and Jonathan caught up to him. “Welcome to the world of those who have to sit back and wonder why they’re not still dating,” Jonathan sighed. His voice was as laced with bitterness as Y/n’s thoughts were.

“They’re so complimentary,” Y/n complained.

“You could argue that you guys are the same,” Robin pointed out. “You both hate doing anything outside or away from home. You both love reading and photography. I mean Y/n’s incredible view of the world allows him to be a great writer, but it also connects you two. Writing and photography aren’t far from each other and you prod that every day. Nancy can’t slow down enough to appreciate things like Jonathan does, and we all know Steve is no reader.” She chuckled. “And we’ll never know how awkward and snappy got buff and pretty.”

Jonathan and Y/n smiled at that. “Imagine another world where Nancy and Steve stayed together. Then maybe you and me would have-“ suddenly he lost his words as he tripped, and Jonathan reached out to catch him. The two boys busted up laughing. “That’s the second I have to say both sorry and thank you for your reflexes Mr. Byers.”

“Ah anytime. That’s what friends do. Share interests and talk about alternative world where they’re dating and catch each other when they almost die.”

That made Y/n laugh harder.

Suddenly there was a very unpleasant thump and a scream. The three in the back snapped their attention to the three ahead and saw Nancy and Bianca freeze and look back at Steve, who had landed on the ground. His hands had risen to cover his face, and he slowly turned on his side, curling in on himself. It seemed like he’d misstepped at some point and tripped and fallen.

Perhaps Y/n shouldn’t have been the one they worried about on this trip...

-

When they finally got Steve to the hospital, it was a mess. There had been blood everywhere, and Y/n’s weirdly good driving had saved the day in a pinch once again. They’d gotten there quickly and in one piece without getting pulled over.

Only an hour later they were given news. Steve came out with the skin around his nose already bruised and puffy. “Guess Who broke their nose,” he mocked in a song songey voice.

“Me?” Y/n joked.

“Me!” Steve agreed, pointing at himself. “It’s me. I broke my nose.” He slung an arm over Y/n’s shoulders and the other four covered their mouths to hide laughs. People wouldn’t be forgiving in public if it got out that the two men were dating, so they were trying to be lowkey.

The Doctor came over behind Steve. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him direction son how to ice it and even given him some pain killers to help with the next few hours. But it is just a broken nose, so nothing too severe.”

“Thanks,” Y/n told the Doctor. They left then, everyone heading home. Y/n designated himself in charge of caring for Steve, and called his parents to let them know that Steve ‘got tired’ after the hike and totally knocked out. They didn’t mind, liking that Steve was actually spending time with other kids again, so it went without too much problem.

As Y/n was tucking Steve into bed, Steve caught his hand to still him. “I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They hadn’t said that yet but... well, if hypotheticals with Jonathan had taught anything today, it was that Y/n was glad he was in this version of things, even if it was a little more complicated this way. So he meant it when he replied, “I love you too Stevie.”

Steve glared. “Not Jonathan?”

“Jon-“ Y/n’s deep confusion cleared as he realized what had been happening right when Steve had tripped. Jonathan and Y/n had been close. Laughing. Talking. Touching. “Oh my god Harrington did you break your nose because you were being a jealous idiot?”

“Maybe,” Steve grumbled, looking away.

Y/n laughed, gently tugging on his chin so their eyes met again. “Please sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Me and my two backward feet are going to plague you for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes got very soft. “Do you really mean that?”

Getting sincere, Y/n leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Stephen Harrington, I’ve never meant anything more. I know we can’t get married or anything, or even date publicly, but... I don’t care. And maybe that’s some really forward thinking and we haven’t been dating that long, but I fell... a LOT of times in my life. It only made sense that the first time someone ever caught me, it was you. And it made me realize that I was gifted with my two backward feet so that one day I’d fall for you.”

Steve groaned. “That was painfully cheesy.”

“Okay, okay,” Y/n dismissed, rolling his eyes. The sweet moment was completely ruined.

“No seriously I would break my nose again before hearing that-“

Y/n reached over, turning the light off before climbing into bed with Steve. “Shut up Harrington, or I WILL break your nose again.”

Steve laughed before pulling Y/n close so they could fall asleep curled up with each other. “My cheesy, dumb, clumsy boy,” Steve mused quietly.

That made Y/n scoff. “If either of ya is the dumb in this relationship it’s YOU, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. It was quiet a while before he finally followed up with, “I’d like that future with you too.”

To hide his smile, Y/n mumbled, “Good night Stevie.”

After a second, Steve replied, “Good night, Y/n.” And for now, that was the end of it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x male reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagine #bisexual steve harrington #bi steve harrington

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hey! I hope I'm not bothering you, I just found your blog and I love it sm, and I saw you sometimes do cherik fic recs. Do you have any Canon divergence aus/fix it, preferably after Cuba, that are 30k or longer and have a happy ending? If not thats okay! You don't have to answer this. Have a wonderful day!

Hi anon, thank you so much. I’m happy you both like my blog and my recs. You are certainly not bothering me, and feel free to send me an ask any time. I have plenty of recommendations for you. Some of them diverge a bit from your request because I couldn’t help but recommend them as well. I will put a note on those who diverge from your request. As always, I only recommend fics I have personally read and enjoyed and I sincerely you love them too.

-Canon divergence aus/fix it, post Cuba, 30k or longer, with a happy ending cherik fic recs-

Not Half As Blinding- keire_ke

Summary: Cuban beach AU. Charles discovers that death does, in fact, solve everything.

Lay down beside me (so still and so soft) – C-Gracewood

Summary: A different take on the events of the film.

Rumor Has It – blueink3

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Forward Momentum – AsYouWish

Summary: Six months after Cuba, Charles and Erik find themselves thrown fifty years into the future, where they meet their older selves, the Avengers, and a world that's very different from their own. Faced with the pieces of their broken relationship, an unparalleled adversary, and dealing with Tony Stark on a daily basis, Charles and Erik do their best to adapt while trying to find a way back home -- and to each other.

When an Unstoppable Force Meets an Immovable Optimist – ToriTC198

Summary: "You are always trying to save me, Charles." Erik mused aloud. "Ever since you dove into the ocean and dragged me out. Did it ever occur to you that I might not be worth saving?"

A genuine smile broke out on Charles' face as he brightly answered, "No, my friend, not once. I have every confidence you are well worth saving. But, I never truly believed I could save you. You are not the sort of man who someone saves. The choice to be a better man has always been yours to make and I hold no illusions that I can make that decision for you. I simply have faith that one day you will save yourself. I only hope I am still at your side to witness it."

What if Erik and Charles had been able to find a middle ground in the end?

Take the First Option – ShowMeAHero

Summary: When Erik becomes unbalanced, Emma presents him with three options: go back to Charles for three months and learn to deal with whatever he has going have going on, lose his Brotherhood, or let Emma control his mind.

He really only has one choice.

Virtue to Which We Aspire – varlovian

Summary: Nine months after Cuba, Charles is found by Erik's Brotherhood in the smoldering ruins of an abandoned CIA base, exhausted but alive. As the only known survivor of the CIA's vendetta against mutants, recovering Charles' memory of the incident—which he admits to having forgotten—just became paramount.

But the harder they push, the closer Charles gets to breaking point. When he finally cracks, the X-Men and the Brotherhood will learn the truth, but it comes with a price...

Some doors, once opened, cannot be closed.

Some minds, once broken, will never be the same again.

The Waking of the Red King – rustingroses

Summary: When Charles' heavy injuries on the Cuban beach conspire to leave him in a coma and living in fantasy of his own making, Erik, the man who once threatened to divide the mutant cause, finds himself desperately trying to hold everything together. First of the Red King trilogy.

Wake Up and Smell the Pancakes –  Ayra Sei Ethari

Summary: In one universe, Erik left Charles. In another, he stayed. So what happens when the two Eriks get switched? "At first, Erik thinks he's dreaming. Then he realizes that this is Charles. Who is not paralyzed. And kissing him.

Rage and Serenity – MagickMaker, TheFangedGoblin

Summary: After Charles is shot on the beach, he is rushed to the hospital and paralysis is prevented. Ridden with guilt, Erik finds that he cannot leave him. He helps him heal, and eventually, Charles learns to trust him again. But when they set out to rescue Emma from the CIA and accept her onto their team, tensions rise. Will love keep Erik and Charles together despite their differences?

No Yesterdays on the Road – pocky_slash

Summary: It's been two months since Cuba and things are settling down for Charles, Erik, and the beginnings of their mutant school. Right up until Charles disappears, that is. Faced with the possibility that a bitter Emma Frost has kidnapped Charles, Erik is forced to team up with Moira to hunt down the remainder of the Hellfire Club. From there, they hope to locate Frost and retrieve Charles, without killing each other along the way.

(Or: Erik and Moira Drive Across the Country and Talk About Their Feelings.)

What Can We Do Without You? – SwoopSwoop

Summary: Charles and the boys were holding onto a secret more dear to them than their own lives when Charles disappears into the night; Erik is betrayed and finds himself returning to Westchester in the hopes that the government was just trying to trick him. All the while the boys are stuck in the middle, left guarding the secret from the man they are most afraid of finding out who is weaselling his way back into their lives alarmingly easily.

Note: Includes Mpreg, but don’t let that discourage you from reading it because it’s a really great fix-it.

Survival Instinct – Lindstorm

Summary: It’s been months since Charles pulled Erik out of the ocean, and Erik is beginning to wonder how many more times he can choose Charles, and still keep his vow to kill Shaw. Cooperating with the CIA is straining Erik’s patience. When a fact-gathering mission goes wrong and Charles is kidnapped, Erik is left trying to hold their mutant band together while Raven and the rest of them fall apart. No one can foresee how the mutant Charles meets in captivity will challenge all his assumptions about his own power, and twist Charles’ telepathy out of his control. In the race to stop Shaw's nuclear ambitions from coming to fruition, Charles makes a crucial misstep. Erik’s decision between Shaw and Charles takes on unexpected ramifications when [spoiler deleted].

Needles (Series) – Skull_Bearer

Summary: AU where everyone's born Dominant or Submissive

Once a Dominant and Submissive pair is born, they are linked to each other, no matter how far apart they are. This link doesn't actually tell the Dom or the Sub each other's thoughts, but it does allow them to know how the other's doing and serves as a reassurance that there's someone meant for them out there.

Another one of the reasons that Erik hates Shaw so badly is because Shaw managed to break Erik's link to his Sub. Now Erik doesn't even know if his Sub's alive because breaking a link like that can kill a Submissive.

Meanwhile, Charles hates himself for not yet having telepathy strong enough to contact and help his Dom, especially after feeling the pain his Dom was forced to go through. He truly believes that his Dominant is dead. Hopes it, some nights when he remembers how his Dom was forced to suffer. It's better than to think of his Dom still being forced to bear that pain.

And then Charles pulls Erik from the water

Time to Grow – zarah5

Summary: In which you'll find chess dates which aren't dates (or maybe Charles is wrong about that). -- Based on First Class, this turns (slightly) AU during the beach scene.

Note: This fic is less than 30k words but it’s such a fandom classic and just a great read if you love your fix-its.

Faults for Fixing – beren

Summary: Charles sees the events of the missile crisis and subsequent weeks when he uses Cerebro to touch the mind of a mutant with the power to see the near future. When he wakes up he is determined that he will not allow them to happen and he will not lose the people he loves.

Note: A bit less than 30k words long but another great read.

It’s like one of us woke up – kaydeefalls

Summary: "You came here for me," Charles said, meeting Shaw's gaze levelly. "So let's not waste any more time."

Canon!AU in which Charles and Erik do find Shaw in Russia.

Note: XMFC fix it, but the events in Cuba don’t happen. 

Afterlife – Anna (arctic_grey)

Summary: A year after Washington, Erik wakes up in excruciating pain as sudden awareness washes over him: Charles is dead. Erik has to adjust to yet another future: no extinction, just a world without Charles. But the death of his former friend leaves Erik weak and his powers drained. His quest for answers leads him back to Westchester, where Erik has to face his past with Charles and put together the puzzle pieces of what happened to the man he once cared for.

The Burdens We Long to Carry – arcapelago (arcanewinter)

Summary: When mutant-supporter and ally President Kennedy is assassinated and all pro-mutant progress is dismantled, Charles is no longer so confident that he's on the right side, and extends his hand to Erik after a year of animosity. They settle tentatively into their old partnership, but not everything is the same as it was--and not everything can be. When Hank develops a metal frame to move the lower half of Charles' body for him if he wants it, Erik offers the use of his mind and his ability in order to make it work. Both find out what they're willing to do for each other, and neither knows if it'll be enough to keep them together.

Other Futures Than These – midrashic

Summary: In which Cuba doesn't break them apart, but that doesn't mean that their futures are tied together. (Except that it does.)

A Days of Future Past AU where only one person can defeat the Sentinels and save the future: the man whose imprisonment and torture created them, and Charles Xavier's ex.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own --

Set after X-3 (with much desperate fix-it applied), during XMFC, and every time in between.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #asks #earnestly answers #for some reason Tumblr refuses to post my entire answer #feel free to ask me whenever you want anon #I really love making these lists

[moral-turpitudes]

I’ll Follow You Into The Dark:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

Trigger Warnings: ANGST, Explosions, Mentions of Blood, Gore etc, and some Fluff.

*Based on Fluff Prompt #1 from my Peaky Prompts list.*

Word Count: 1,695

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: Anon, you can find it here.

Summary: When Thomas and the rest of the blinders head towards a trap, Y/N has to decide if they’ll stay behind or go with them. Knowing that they vowed to be with him until death.

“If heaven and hell decide That they both are satisfied Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you When your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark”

- Death Cab for Cutie

The sound of explosions rang faintly in the distance as you held your hands over your ears, the impact dulling your hearing as a sharp ringing filled them.

“Tom!” You yelled into the void, hoping to hear him through the chaos.

Silence.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you crawled through the sharp debris, looking for the bomb that was set off nearby, hoping to find the remnants of the man who taunted your family and made the fatal mistake of stepping in his own trap. His evil smirk etching it’s way into your memory as he walked in the lavish room ever-so carefully. Thinking he’d be able to avoid the perilous wires near his foot as you spotted them before he did, your warning causing him to take his final step. Your hands soon scraping through the chunks of drywall and broken glass as the dust and smoke burned your eyes and lungs, your mind racing with finding the man whom you’d followed that day into the trenches, so-to-speak. 

Every Peaky Blinders mission for Thomas was like a battle, his mind always set on planning attacks to escape the scraping sound of the shovels against the hot, dark tunnels. But as always, no matter how many times he tried to stay one step ahead of his rivals, someone always got in the way. 

It started out as an ordinary day, Thomas calling a meeting and giving orders to head to the latest location on his mental hit-list. The name making your heart sink as you realized he was walking into a trap. The infamous, cunning gang leader you’d came to share a bed with was going to waltz right into what he swore he never would.

“Any questions?” He asked, his eyes lingering on yours as he blew out a puff of smoke.

Everyone nodded along except you, knowing the people they were going after were just as dangerous. That week, the rival gang had crossed the line, threatening and taunting the Shelby family with letters and fake explosives just to remind them of “who really ran the town.” One of them said in a tense phone call to Thomas, setting off the chain of events leading up to now.

The decision to leave your clerical duties was a rash one. Nervously following your husbands car to their destination. Once there, you parked a ways back, behind a slew of trees. Your steps light against the cobblestones as you got closer to them, knowing in your heart you had to warn him, even if it was the last thing you’d say to the man you loved.

“Tommy! Wait!” You said loudly, your heart racing from the effort it took to catch up to him and his brothers.

“Y/N...you need to go back to the shop, it’s not safe. Go.” He said lowly, not wanting to call attention to you all.

“I came here to warn you Tom. Remember when you sent me to sit in on their meeting at the pub? They mentioned a trap. I-I didn’t think much of it then, but after the threats...Tom I know it’s a trap. If you go in there now you won’t make it out.” You said as tears formed in your eyes, your nerves getting to you as you struggled to speak. 

“I have to, love. Now go.” He said, kissing you quickly. 

“No. I’m going with you.” You said defiantly, pulling out the handgun he gave you, checking to make sure it was fully loaded.

He had a pained look on his face as he nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to change your mind. You’d been a good shot in the past, but that didn’t exactly mean much when explosives were concerned.

You all had barely made it through the first floor of the large manor before the first one went off. Thomas shoving you to the ground, shielding you from the small debris falling through the air. As the haze cleared, you sat up, feeling Thomas pull you to the nearest wall, yelling orders at his brothers before checking his bullets.

“Keep your eyes peeled for the wires yeah? Stay behind me.” He said, opening the door as the dust covered space cleared. You walked closely behind, quietly looking at the ground for any signs of the deadly wires as you heard yelling upstairs. Arthur was shouting amongst gunfire, and John sounded like he was scrapping with one of the men they were after.

Thomas roughly took your hand, leading you up the stairs in a sideways motion, backs towards the wall, checking around the corner with a quick glance before a bullet whizzed past your head. A scream caught in your throat as you realized how close you were to the darkness of death itself. Thomas soon returned fire, the screams of the man he hit echoing through the stone hallway that led to his brothers.

Upon arrival, you flanked your husband, pointing your gun at the man holding John down as Thomas shot the other.

“Get off of him!” You yelled, catching the mans attention enough to where John could get a punch in. The man hurling himself angrily at you soon enough until you shakily shot him. The man falling limp to the ground within seconds. Your hands shook as you took in the sight, trying to distract yourself from the blood by looking at the ground for more wires.

Almost as soon as you’d said that though, the man who’d sent you all the taunting letters came in with a menacing smirk, stepping in a weird way so as not to disturb the floor. But your eyes saw the colored wires poking out ever so slightly, your brain wondering how in the hell you all avoided it earlier.

“Everybody down!” You yelled, causing the man to misstep, setting it off. The wind soon knocked out of you as the blast hurled everyone to the ground. The ceiling caving in in various places as well as part of the floor below you.

You felt yourself relax as you breathed in the smoke, feeling as though you were going to pass out from the ordeal. The sharp pain of the glass shards stuck in your now shredded coat the only thing keeping you clinging to consciousness. As you closed your eyes, you pictured what life would be like if he’d never had the family business thrust upon him after the war. How he’d have probably married you sooner and how you’d probably be chasing little kids around by now in a big house on the outskirts of town. But now, reality set in as Arthur’s shouts came through the muddled noise, Johns following not too far behind as they ran towards you, grabbing you up in the knick of time. The once lavish building crumbling before your eyes as you knew the one you loved was most likely gone.

“Tom!” You called out, hands still scraping through the rubble of the first floor as Arthur and John dug through the rest of the larger stuff. Tears visibly splattering on the dust covered floor, the tiles smashed beyond repair.

Your heart ached knowing you’d never find him as you scraped through the debris, your hearing slowly coming back and eyes watering as you continued on, stopping once a hand reached out from one of the corners.

“Y/N.....” Thomas said weakly, his arm badly cut and his face busted up as he spat up blood, most likely from his busted lip or the jagged stone poking him in the chest. It most definitely broke a few ribs, causing him too much pain to move as he thought about what to do, even though he couldn’t do much of anything at the moment.

It seemed like he waited longer now, than he did for the calvary in France, for his brothers to make it to where he was. Helping him up despite his loud groans of pain.

You watched in horror as they drove him to the hospital, his face paling as you followed behind their car, hoping that neither heaven nor hell would take him, even though he belonged to the latter. Hoping that he would stay here, for you. For his family.

Hours had slowly passed until you’d gotten word he was going to make it, the doctors saying he was damn well close to dying by the time they’d got him in surgery.

“There you are love.” He said weakly, the meds doing his head in as he saw you walk in carrying his beloved cigarettes and his bloodstained coat. Your own body covered in various bandages as you sat next to his bed.

“I thought you were dead.” You said, tears rolling down your cheeks as he cupped your face with his hand. A small, pained laugh escaping his lips.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Y/N.” He said. Knowing he might as well have nine lives with as close he’s been to death over the years.

“I know...” you said shortly, holding his bruised hand in yours that were bandaged up.

“But...please promise me...that next time you’ll listen to me. At least when I know it’s a trap alright?” You asked, concern lacing your every feature as you felt him pull your hand to his lips, kissing the top of it gently.

“I will, but promise me something as well.” He said.

“What?” You asked.

“Promise me you won’t follow me next time. You shouldn’t have to risk your life for me.” He said, a serious look in his tired, blood-shot eyes.

“I can’t promise that Tommy. I’ll follow you into the dark not matter what. I fucking vowed to you know.” You said, pointing at the diamond on your ring finger.

“Aye, but you’re my partner. Can’t have you dying too.” He said.

“That is true, but what is love without sacrifice?” You said, giving him a light kiss as he pulled you close despite his injuries. Wanting to feel you beside him, to know that he wasn’t stuck in the rubble anymore, to know that he had you, and you had him.

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Sex Tape

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader

Request: “ If you take requests, would you consider doing johnny reaction to like theirs sex tape getting leaked? Reader may also be a celebrity or not. Whatever you prefer “ - @fanficshitandother 

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no actual smut

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Sorry this one is so short. I was having a harder time writing it than I thought I would. I hope you enjoy!

__________________________________

Shit. 

You knew this was a bad idea when he suggested it but no. He just had to have this video “for when he was away filming.” It always ended like this, though, right? It always started out as fun and games until bam! Celebrity sex tape leaked! 

The gossip talk show video that your best friend had sent you was still playing on your phone and you watched in silent horror as the red haired woman talked about your sex life to her male counterpart as if she had any actual right to have an opinion. In the top corner was a picture of you and Johnny at the red carpet for the premier of the Crimes of Grindelwald, his arm around your waist and both of you smiling for the paparazzi pictures. “Okay, guys. You are going to want to hear this,” She started, clasping her absurdly long acrylic-clad fingers together and holding onto her knees, “So there has been yet another sex tape leaked and I want you to guess who’s it is.” She looked over to her co-host. He had a push broom mustache that was bleached blonde to match his hair. 

The man hummed before waving his hand, which also donned long yellow acrylics, “I swear, Laurel, if this is another Kardashian or Paris Hilton tape, I’m gonna scream. That’s such old news.” 

“Actually, it’s someone that I certainly didn’t expect. Johnny Depp and his wife, Y/N L/N.” She dropped the news and the co-star’s mouth dropped. 

“Are you serious? Like Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Willy Wonka, Johnny Depp?” He asked in total shock, “I didn’t expect that either! But you know what? I feel like he’d be really good in bed.” 

He and Laurel both laughed, “You’re so bad!” She squealed, hitting him with the paper notes in her hand, “But, between you and me,” She leaned in, as if she was telling an actual secret that wasn’t being broadcast on the internet, “I did see it.” 

“And?” 

“It was pretty hot, I can’t lie. That Y/N is a very lucky girl indeed.” The pair giggled like a pair of school girls. 

You were absolutely mortified. How did this happen? How many people had seen it? Who had seen it? Oh God… all you could imagine was your family stumbling across the video or, debatably worse, Johnny’s kids. This had to be one of the worst moments of your life. 

You turned off the video and quickly dialed your husband. “Hello, love.” He greeted cheerily on the other end. The faint sound of cars passing in the background told you he was probably driving home from the meeting he had been at. 

“Did you see it? Did you hear it?” You asked frantically. 

“What?” He asked, confused.

“The video! The video got leaked!” You ran your fingers through your hair messily, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. 

“What video?” He questioned, not sounding like he fully understood what had happened, but then you could almost feel the weight of realization falling on him, “Wait, our video?” 

“Yes! Our video!” You were yelling at this point, not at him but at the situation and thankfully he understood that. 

“Okay, okay. We’ll- Hang on my manager is calling. Probably to tell me about it. I’ll be home in five minutes. I love you.” He signed off your call quickly before hanging up without giving you the chance to respond. 

While you waited for him to get there, you spiraled down the rabbit hole that was the tabloids and social media. Your phone buzzed off the charts as everyone from your sister to Helena Bonham Carter called you to ask if you were okay. Of course, you weren’t. But it was one phone call from a former college roommate, Sheila, had really gotten your blood boiling. 

“It’s okay! If anything, this is just going to make you more famous! Look at all the other celebs who’ve had their sex tapes leaked. They’re like, super famous.” Sheila sounded more excited than she should have, which certainly made you question her motives behind calling you in the first place. Since marrying Johnny, you’d had the unfortunate displeasure of having to cut a few people off from your past who had randomly called you up after years of little to no contact, asking more favors in the movie industry, money, or even just for the clout of saying they knew you. There really was such a downside to this whole marrying famous person thing that nobody ever really talked about - not that you would take it back, though, of course. You loved Johnny more than anything. 

Still, when the words left her mouth, you felt a flash of anger swell up, “Contrary to what a lot of people might believe, being famous actually kind of sucks,” You spat angrily, “And call me crazy, but I don’t exactly feel thrilled at knowing the whole world as access to a video of my naked ass!” 

“At least it’s a good naked ass, though! Your boobs are looking pretty good too. Did you get them done?” She asked bluntly, still not a care to be heard in her voice. You swore you could almost detect a fake valley girl accent too. 

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief at the words coming from her voice, “I can’t believe you.” Without giving her a chance to respond, you clicked the off button before flipping her off through the screen, though you knew she couldn’t see it. The audacity of some people. 

The front door swung open, drawing your attention as Johnny hurried into the house, setting his bag down by the front door. “How bad is it?” You asked, knowing his manager must have told him the full extent. 

“Do you want the truth?” Johnny saw as panic and humiliation swept across your face, knowing that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to break it to you that it was pretty bad. He stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms, “I told Harrison to take ‘em down. Whenever he found one, he said he’d get it deleted. 

You sighed defeatedly, “That doesn’t stop the fact that a bunch of people already saw it.” Your arms wrapped around Johnny’s torso and you allowed your head to fall against his chest, trying to calm yourself with his scent- exotic spicy cologne and old books. 

His large hand came to stroke through your hair, “That is true,” He conceded with a heavy breath, “But, it also means that fewer and fewer people will continue to see it.” There was a pause in which neither of you said anything, only took a few minutes to hold onto each other while you thought about the future now, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel like this is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have asked to make the video. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You shook your head in disagreement, “I agreed to do it too. It’s on both of us. In retrospect, we should have put it on an actual VHS tape or something that would be more difficult to get into the tabloid’s hands.” 

You were tired of this - of this constant running from the vultures that prayed off your every misstep just to turn them against you and create headlining stories. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a scandal unless the media allowed it. You were just grateful that you happened to marry one of the most private actors in Hollywood, knowing that whatever pressure you felt, more public figures like Angelina Jolie had it much worse. Still, something inside you stirred, a decision that you’d stop living in fear. 

Johnny pulled back and gave you that infamous cocked eyebrow look of wonder, one that you’d mostly seen him use as Jack Sparrow. Little did everyone know, it was a gesture he’d picked up on doing in real life as well. “Do we even have a VHS player anymore?” 

You chuckled and buried your head back into his white shirt, “I don’t even know. I feel like there must be one laying around somewhere. And if not, I’ll go down to a pawn shop and pick one up just for you to use while filming.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” You leaned back, pulling on his shirt to bring him down closer to your level, “That if we’re going to be making you another one of these videos, it’s gonna be on something that stays only between us.” 

Your husband nearly choked on air, “Another one? After what just happened?” 

“Only if you want to and only if it stays on something physical like a CD or VHS that we can mutually agree to burn and destroy if anything happens.” You giggled and Johnny joined in with a low chuckle as well, “But… the video was leaked. We knew that was a risk when we made it. But, y’know what? I’m tired of living in fear of the paparazzi and public. They’ve already seen us fuck. There’s not much else we’ve got to lose.” 

His dark eyes flashed with mischief before he took off in a light jog down the hall without a word. You followed him, “Where are you going?” You giggled, turning the corner to find him digging through your little Harry Potter closet under the stairs. 

When he stood up, he shook his long hair out of his eyes messily and held up an old tape recorder that had to be at least twenty years old. Johnny swayed towards you, jokingly flirtatious as he spoke, “Well, Mrs. Depp, it would seem that you’re in luck because your husband likes to hoard old shit.” 

The grey and black machine seemed to stare at you and some hesitation set in again but then you remembered what you’d said: I’m tired of living in fear… there’s not much else we’ve got to lose. 

Johnny flicked open the side compartment and his eyes opened in surprise to find a tape still in there. He lifted it from the slide and looked it over, shocked to see that it appeared to be an unused blank tape, “Well, well, looks like we’re in luck.” 

Biting your lip, you looked up at him with those eyes before grabbing his hand and running upstairs to your bedroom, dragging him along. “The world thinks they’ve seen us fuck. They only got a preview.” 

“Only a preview? I thought we went pretty hard last time?” He countered with a low challenging laugh.

You turned around at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister as you turned to face him. His body collided with yours, his hand reaching around the small of your back to steady the two of you and you arched your body into his, being sure to brush your body against his groin, “Oh, Johnny… we’re both throwing our backs out tonight.” 

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