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Well, a genuine tear slid out of my eye as I read this, thanks
“What are your parameters for loving me?”
Careful to keep her head locked forward, Naomi glances over at her son. Will’s picked-bloody fingernails scrabble at the worn bandage around his wrist, twisting until his knuckles turn white. The car shakes with his violently bouncing leg, out of time with the shuddering engine and rumbling dust roads under the wheels.
“There aren’t any.”
“There have to be — some.” The bandage is longer than she thought, unspooled in his lap. He winds it back up again quickly, hands blurring; darting around his wrist, tapping on his knees, flexing and locking, flexing and locking. “I mean, what if I became a misogynist?”
She snorts. “I think you’re good, honey.”
“No, Mom, what if? Think about it for real. You’d stop loving me, right?”
“I might knock you around a bit, but it’d pretty hard to stop loving you completely,” she teases. She pinches the stubbornly-clinging baby fat of his cheeks between her knuckles, ruffling his hair when he ducks away.
“Seriously, Mama.”
“I dunno, Will. I’d send you to work for your Auntie Di for a while, probably. Reckon she’d straighten you out good.”
“Okay.” He nods, twice to himself, chewing on his lip. The bandage is wrapped around his elbow, now, pulled tight enough that she can hear the groan of his joints. “Okay. What if I killed someone?”
“Be a pretty hefty secret for the two of us.”
“An innocent person. Cold blood, just because I wanted to.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I could, Mom. People are — unpredictable.” He picks at a hole in his shorts until it’s wide enough to slide three fingers through, pulling the bandage in after them. It looks yellowed next to the green of the fabric, worn. “Sometimes you think you know someone but you don’t.”
“I know you.”
She pushes on her turn signal, slowing to a near stop. Will’s twitching fingers unconsciously synch up, cri-tap, cri-tap, cri-tap. The rusted rims groan as her tires amble around the bend, quieting as she lurches forward. They both duck as she hits a pothole, narrowly avoiding the warped ceiling.
“Cold blood, Mama.”
“I’d — it would scare me, I guess.” The next few potholes are smaller — she can avoid them with some manoeuvring. A mouse darts out onto the road, rushing out from the surrounding cornfields, and she slams on the break, thrusting her arm out to the passenger side. Will’s hands come to cup over her forearm as he slams into it, grunting softly. The mouse sprints across the rest of the road, tail swishing behind it, disappearing into the stalks. She settles back into her seat, brushing across Will’s seatbelt as she does, and presses the gas again. “More for you than of you. For what would happen if someone came knocking.”
“You wouldn’t report it?”
“No I wouldn’t report it, Will, Jesus.”
“But I — but I did something evil.”
“This is a hypothetical, baby.”
“And in the hypothetical. You’re —” He scrubs his hand down his face, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re a good person. You have — morals.”
“I’m a person, Will.” The GPS beeps at her — twenty-five miles to the Tennessee border. “And I’m a mother before that.”
“So if I — you would just — just like that? You’d — forgive me?”
“I’d love you,” she corrects.
“But you wouldn’t forgive me.”
She shrugs. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
“So how do you know you’d still love me?”
“Because there’s nothing you could do, baby. I mean it.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Not even if I was a bully? Or a landlord? Or if I — liked boys?”
He says it quickly, or tries to, but he stumbles over his words, tripping over the syllables. Naomi sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it hard.
“You would still love me, if I — if I —”
Keeping her movements steady, she removes her boot from the gas. Will glances, fast, at her tightening knuckles on the steering wheel, looking quickly away. She guides the car to the shoulder of the road, pulling into park, and kills the engine, unclipping her seatbelt and turning ninety degrees to face her son. Will crowds into the corner of the seat, hunching in on himself, shoulders tense and curling, hair failing over her lowered head.
“Oh, Will.”
His body shakes as she pulls him into her, hands trembling so bad they spasm, twitching out of the fists he makes. She shifts until both of her arms wrap tightly around her torso, ignoring the burn of the trench, tucking his forehead into her collarbone, dropping her lips to press against his temples, his cheeks, the crown of his head.
“It’s okay, baby.”
“It’s — not. I’m still, I can still —”
“Sh.” His tears drip onto her shirt, her skin. He chokes back a sob and she tightens, reflexively, pulling his whole body even closer to her, somehow, making space for his too-long legs, knees hitting his chest, feet dangling off the seat, gearshift shoved into his thigh. His chest heaves with the effort of keeping his cries locked up in his throat, hidden behind clenched teeth, squeezed shut eyes. His fingers cling onto her shirt, twisting the fabric so hard it warps. Her own fingers clutch desperately at the ridges of his spine, the inside of his elbow; squeezing, holding, bruising. His voice is rough as raw grit and reedy as pond scum, barely above a whisper.
“I like boys, Mama.”
“I heard you.” She rests her forehead on his shoulder, her own breaths shuddering. “I heard you, sweetheart.”
“I like — a boy.”
“Okay.”
“For a long time.”
Her swallow constricts her throat, shoving the air back in her lungs. How long, she cannot bring herself to ask — when was it, exactly, that he decided he could not trust her with this? When did she lose that privilege? Was it when he started protecting her from the pain in his life, or before? When he lost everyone close to him at once, or when he broke down and told her about it? When was she no longer the person he ran to when he was scared, nervous, afraid?
He used to come to her for everything.
“I love you,” she whispers, voice wet as it slides against the lump in her throat. She squeezes him again, and this time, he squeezes back, pressing his face into her skin. “Will Solace, you are what keeps me going, do you understand that? Come up here, baby, look at me.”
His eyes aren’t hers. He takes after his father, really; after his older brother once upon a time. But he speaks like she does and smiles like she does and stands like she does, and when he cries he gets that same look, like the ocean has emptied itself inside of him. She cradles both palms to his wet cheeks, thumbs pressing under his eyes, kissing his forehead, his cheekbones, wiping the tears away.
“Fifteen years long you’ve been the light of my life. I need you to understand that, Will. I have never loved anything like I love you and there will never be anyone who comes even close. There is no hypothetical, no situation, no anything that could change that. There are no parameters. None. You understand me?”
“Everything stops,” he croaks. “Everything has a limit.”
“Not me,” she says firmly. “You ain’t a baby no more, baby, but you’re gonna have to pretend for a moment that I know everything again. I am telling you that there is no boundary. And I am not giving you the option to disagree. You are my son and my sun and that’s final, Will. That’s final.”
His face crumples. She pulls him close again, sighing, letting him curl up in his lap like he’s ten years younger than she should be, instead of the ten years older he acts. She runs a hand through he knotted hair and another down his back and presses her lips to his temples, holding him every place she can reach, and rocks them, even though there’s no room to do it, humming slow and low under her breath.
“We’ll get there,” she promises, tapping a beat on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Okay?”
He nods into her neck. “Okay.” His voice is small but not cowering, thankfully; small like he’s hiding in her instead of from her. She fights the urge to sag into him, to burst into tears of her own.
“I love you, Will. No matter what and forever.”
“I love you too, Mama.”
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My contribution to the “show!percy fucking looks like will solace” identity crisis
This crossover amuses me greatly actually
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(Left to right)
A silly little thing as per a request from @ticklish-sidekick involving Nico and Percy and tickling. Although I chickened out of actually drawing the tickling part, so it’s redacted 🫥
Hope you enjoy even if it’s totally different :)
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Can’t keep his eyes off him
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Inspired by @mediumgayitalian’s post
https://www.tumblr.com/mediumgayitalian/747989259902943232/the-crooked-creaky-door-of-the-cluttered
I love her writing so much I drew this at 2am like I was possessed
Forgive me for everything I’m barely thinking straight
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Nico n co.
I think Nico deserves a whole legion of older siblings who can mother, manhandle, and annoy the shit out of him (mostly Percy)
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Saw @unicornpopcorn14's silly fic of Dazai's house getting put onto a cargo ship from this post
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Babyzai fanart from @play-rough's classification AU fic series
Lil guy has been living rent free in my head and I finally got the courage to actually draw him and fishy... Thinking of drawing more scenes from the fanfic keke
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clingonlikeclingwrap · 2 months
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Pirate Terms and Phrases
-> Pirate Lingo
-> A Pirate's Glossary
Batten Down The Hatches - tie everything down and put stuff away for a coming storm.
Brig - a prison on a ship.
Bring a Spring Upon 'er - turn the ship in a different direction
Broadside - the most vulnerable angle of a ship that runs the length of the boat.
Cutlass - a thick, heavy and rather short sword blade.
Dance with Jack Ketch - to hang; death at the hands of the law (Jack Ketch was a famed English executioner).
Davy Jones's Locker - a mythical place at the bottom of the ocean where drowned sailors are said to go.
Dead Men Tell No Tales - the reason given for leaving no survivors.
Flogging - severe beating of a person.
Gangplank - removable ramp between the pier and ship.
Give No Quarter - show no mercy.
Jack - flag flown at the front of the ship to show nationality.
Jolly Roger - black pirate flag with a white skull and crossbones.
Keelhaul - a punishment where someone is dragged under the ship. They are cut by the planks and barnacles on the bottom of the ship.
Landlubber - an inexperienced or clumsy person who doesn't have any sailing skills.
Letters of Marque - government-issued letters allowing privateers the right to piracy of another ship during wartime.
Man-O-War - a pirate ship that is decked out and prepared for battle.
Maroon - to leave someone stranded on a. deserted island with no supplies, typically a punishment for any crew members who disrespected the captain.
Mutiny - a situation in which the crew chooses a new captain, sometimes by forcibly removing the old one.
No Prey, No Pay - a common pirate law that meant crew members were not paid, but rather received a share of whatever loot was taken.
Old Salt - experienced pirate or sailor.
Pillage - to steal/rob a place using violence.
Powder Monkeys - men that performed the most dangerous work on the ship. They were treated harshly, rarely paid, and were expendable.
Privateer - government-appointed pirates.
Run A Shot Across the Bow - fire a warning shot at another boat's Captain.
Scurvy - a disease caused by Vitamin C Deficiency.
Sea Legs - when a sailor adjusts his balance from riding on a boat for a long time.
Strike Colors - lower a ship's flag to indicate surrender.
Weigh Anchor and Hoist the Mizzen - an order to the crew to pull up the anchor and get the ship sailing.
If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.
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clingonlikeclingwrap · 2 months
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@goldetrash
Foreshadowing Ideas
• Character themes/motifs. I’ve heard of one writer who tries to give each character their own theme for similes, metaphors, descriptions, etc so there’s like a theme to the way they’re portrayed. You could use that to foreshadow notable secrets about the character that will later be revealed, or if at any point they’re disguised then you can use that to tip off the reader that they have the same motifs and so might be related/the same person
• Tiny details hidden in lists. Say the MC was trying to work out the identity of a bad guy, who we know was wearing a red shirt on the day of a big bad event. A few chapters later, MC is checking around their best friend’s room to find them, with the place its usual mess with discarded takeaway boxes, the bed unmade, a red shirt left on the floor that could use a good sweep. The red shirt might not click with all the readers, but those who register it upon their first read will eat it up
• Inconsistent behavioural patterns. Once we have a good idea of what a character is like, having them act out of character can set off alarm bells and make us question what’s occurred to make them act this way. Let the other characters register it too, if it’s reasonable that they would, but let them ultimately brush it off quite quickly to keep it subtle. Or just call it right out, whichever you prefer
• Unreliable narrators. Let one character say one thing and a second character say another, even if they both ultimately agree on the same thing but get one or two small details wrong. Ideally do this two or three times in order for the reader to know it’s not just a mistake in the plot but an intentional inconsistency, but even if it’s only done once and it’s taken as a mistake it’ll still slot together like puzzle pieces in the end and they’ll be kicking themself for dismissing it
• In-universe red herrings. If you’re going to add red herrings as foreshadowing, it’s helpful if the red herring aligns with the intentions of someone person aware of the upcoming plot twist who’s trying to control the narrative. Say the plot twist was the reveal of a mysterious character’s identity to be the best friend of the MC, the best friend might have deliberately thrown the MC off their scent by planting suspicions in the MC’s mind that a different character was the mysterious character’s identity all along. This is less about foreshadowing the actual reveal, of course, but rereads will be a punch to the gut when everyone realises that all this misinformation and red herring business came from someone trying to cover their own ass rather than coming from misunderstandings or multiple other random sources
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clingonlikeclingwrap · 2 months
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Sep 2022 - Feb 2024 MitsuKou paint over
This was supposed to be some kind of happy angst-free AU where they’re all grown up and alive and not dead which I realise now is the bare fucking minimum for two characters to be happy damn it
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clingonlikeclingwrap · 4 months
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clingonlikeclingwrap · 4 months
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Telling myself this every day so here's a meme
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clingonlikeclingwrap · 4 months
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You’ve been sentenced to 400 years for multiple murders. It’s been 399 years and your jailers are starting to get nervous.
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clingonlikeclingwrap · 5 months
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sillies....
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clingonlikeclingwrap · 5 months
Photo
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Improbable Compatibility Store / Patreon
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