#“One Less Bell To Answer"

[goodblacknews]

MUSIC MONDAY: "Close To You: Soulful Burt Bacharach Covers" (LISTEN)

by Marlon West (FB: marlon.west1 Twitter: @marlonw IG: stlmarlonwest Spotify: marlonwest) Happy Black History Month, you all. Now it might seem counterintuitive to use my February offering to feature and honor Burt Bacharach, who died on February 8 at age 94. The prolific composer, songwriter, record producer, and pianist is widely regarded as one of the most important and influential figures of…

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#"Close to You" #"Walk on By" #Aretha Franklin #Bobby Womack #Burt Bacharach #Dionne Warwick #Floetry #Frank Ocean #Hal David #Isaac Hayes #Love #Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis Jr. #Marlon West #Masta Ace #Mos Def #Music Monday #Ronald Isley #Stevie Wonder #The 5th Dimension #“One Less Bell To Answer"

[lyralit]

romanticizing academia writing prompts in honour of @lovelaceandco

cramming for your test the next day the night before: sheets and sheets of scrap paper, pacing around to get the ideas right, muttering to yourself and glancing between your notes and the presentation

writing the same notes over and over to get it in your brain

teachers that can quote poetry off the top of their heads & students who will sit around to listen

holed in your room for hours with impromptu music breaks and a hot drink going cold

academic rivals (because who doesn't love them) Anne-and-Gilbert-style:

"what did you get" and not hiding your grades when you did do better;

trading away the coveted position for a job you know they will do better at and you will love less & congratulating them for the awards they win and they you;

bringing them notes for a class they missed despite them being your competition

prioritizing your friendships.

school skirts in the dead of winter, cardigans buttoned loosely

having an idea in the middle of the night and getting up so it won't escape you again

going down research rabbit holes on topics much different from where you began

joining competitions that require studying for the sake of learning;

doing it all for the sake of learning

weeping over grades only to grit your teeth and promise to do better

sneaking in women in suits and powerful women here because academia is indispensable without them

burning energy in between-class exercise: sprinting down the hallways and climbing up the stairs to the old building; swim practice before and after school; chasing the wind out the doors as the final bell rings

getting swept away writing research papers on subjects you didn't know interested you; writing much more than you expected you would

finally understanding a subject that kept evading you; the click when everything finally fits into place

a braid falling out of place and smudged lipstick

the wide-eyed mania after emerging from a particularly grueling subject

jumping from club to fair to meeting

strings of code and students gathered around a singular laptop, muttering to themselves in hopes of finding their error

looking for a book in the library and finding a dozen that interest you

a dazed student stepping back from a chalkboard of illegible handwriting; triumphant with their answer

one student arriving early and working quietly in the commons; their classmates trickle in one by one, making small conversation, until the place is full and the sun is high in the sky

inside jokes in Latin from the ancient studies class you dropped two years ago

thick coats in the winter, jackets zipped tight while you run for cover in the snow with your precious work, ringed hands around warm mugs, cheeks flushed dark, snow on lashes

the golden rainbow of fall, the crimson trees on your way home, the traffic lights lit up through rainy windows, coffee and early mornings, chemistry trips to the ravine, catching the sunset after classes

spring flowers breaking through snow, baked goods and getting the hang of things, lazy spares in the common room, hoodies and boxy headphones, warm enough for the nice shoes, the soft patter of rain, the chirping birds

the last stretch before summer, unbuttoned collars, legs slung on furniture and frantic note-taking anywhere possible, eyes fluttering closed, chasing down the bus on the way home, rolled-up sleeves and tucked-back hair, "okay so".

#lyralit #creative writing #writerblr #writers #studyblr #writers block #writblr #writing #writing prompts #writing ideas #studying #studyspo #study blog #study motivation #study aesthetic #academia

[qsycomplainsalot]

Re: Pervertin or how German Supersoldiers High on Crack travelled through Space and Time Buy my Book

I came across a post on the bird site yesterday calling into attention the use of pervitin, more or less adderall, among German troops during WW2. For context pervitin tablets were indeed issued to a lot of military personnel back in those days, specifically to aircraft pilot and sometimes tank crews on long missions. The drug as some of you may have heard keeps you awake and alert, along with a slew of side effects and a non negligible chance of addiction. In a discussion that brought to view just how willing people are to buy into Nazi propaganda in the year of our f*cking lord 2023, I pointed out a few things, uphill and having to indulge a lot of sidetracking. The use of pervitin has always been a little overstated ever since it came to the internet's attention, and I certainly would never call it a key component of the Blitzkrieg when, in the theaters of war where actual Blitzkrieg was employed, its success was more due to a combination of innovative doctrines, intact fuel supplies and a big fat helping of dumb luck. It was a bold move highly relying on capturing enemy fuel depots with fast, surprise deep strikes supported by a lot of armored and air forces, and it was only sustainable in neighboring, industrialized countries. One can argue if the USSR was industrialized at the time, but it stopped mattering when the Russians removed their entire industry from the West to beyond the Ural mountains. The Blitz stalled there.

"But if it didn't work, then why did the Nazis do it so often ?" Well the answer to that is twofold. The first, longer answer is that Nazis were a bunch of f*cking morons. Maybe not one by one, but as a government in charge of military procurement, they were one bunch of goofy motherf*ckers. Gaggle of functional shit-for-brains really. The Nazis gave every one of their tanks in the middle of the war two coats of anti-magnetic paint, which took almost a full day to cure, despite being the only major nation to use magnetic antitank mines. The Nazis kept using slave labor drawn from their prisoners of war, including in the manufacturing of their overengineered armored vehicles, resulting in poor quality products or, you know, a few rivets in your magnificent Tiger tank being replaced by a cigarette butt. The Nazis spent more than half the cost of a strategic bomber on every V2 rocket, not including design costs, for less than half the payload. It ended up killing more Germans and slave workers than British people in London, for literally no strategic or tactical result with 0.4 person killed per every rocket. The second, shorter answer is that pervitin was not used that much. A lot of the arguments trying to boost its importance come from a single book, "Blitzed" by Norman Ohler, now available in twenty languages apparently, where grand claims are made by a historian who was probably more than a little tired of seeing Buzzfeed rack in the big bucks instead of him.

End note; I was called out by a bird siter after the conversation that inspired this post for even beginning to fact-check this, which they considered, and I quote, "fangirling over nazi stats". I cannot stress this enough, learning the 'bad' parts of history does not make you bad person, it is how you interact with the resulting knowledge. Unlike what they implied, I had to look for those supporting evidence. I had a hunch that such a grabbing headline about super-drugs would be fake, I knew offhand that V2 rockets killed more blues than reds, but when I had to research all that jazz about Nazis and their superweapons it was to dunk on them, not make another History Channel documentary about a time-travelling bell. Stay critical, fascists can eat shit.

#history #ww2 #rambling #rant

[utilitycaster]

In honor of that poll, which has apparently been answered by a bunch of loser rogue-fuckers, and was also written by someone who doesn't even have the update that gives you twelve poll options, please have a good ranking of sexiest D&D 5e classes, from me.

This only has the 13 officially published 5e classes so do not ask me about classes that are not that. Also, the existence of a handful of sexy or unsexy characters of that class does not a sexy or unsexy class overall make. I'm sure these two statements will not shut down all annoying people but by god I hope they shut down some.

Paladin. Self-explanatory: if you don't agree, you better explain yourself, unless you think they are outranked by...

Wizard. As Liam O'Brien said, what's sexier than wizards? And I said "paladins, but no one else." I'm also going to fuck up an Octavia Butler quote and say that her journal did not explicitly state that single-minded devotion is sexy but it is, and that's why wizards and paladins are, undisputably, the top two.

Warlock. Would be higher than wizards on the basis of sheer raw charisma but some warlock classes (archfey, hexblade) are extremely sexy and some are...pots in need of very unique lids, shall we say.

Bard. This is for competency and knowledge of mythology and musical instruments. If you're into some kind of memeriffic 20 CHA 7 INT Roll To Seduce bro shit, get the fuck out of here.

Ranger. Their combat abilities are not as great as they could be but this is also without a doubt the class that will invite you over and make a delicious foraged mushroom risotto and have lit candles they made themself. They are good with animals and can identify constellations. Entire package.

Barbarian and Fighter are tied. Do you prefer a flow state and passion or do you prefer dedication and persistence? Axe or sword? Raw power or precision? Equally valid; it's a matter of personal taste.

Cleric. One of the gods thinks they're special; it's hard not to be drawn in by that. Also, healing is the sexiest magical ability. Points off for the possibility of sanctimonious behavior.

Druid. This is just personal taste but I would find it weird if my partner was sometimes a giant scorpion, and I feel rangers are just the far sexier nature-loving option. People for whom druids are #1, I see you, I respect you, I disagree with you, but I do think you're valid.

Monk. Here's the problem. Yes flexible; everything else is kind of a solid "eh" for me. Honestly I think it's because D&D separates out dexterity and strength even though monks technically need both, and so the low-strength monk archetype really doesn't do it for me. It's not unsexy but it never wows me, and honestly in real life martial arts is usually more an aesthetic joy than a sexy one for me.

Sorcerer. Often physically attractive but I do not love a nepo baby, and absolutely the class least able to make you breakfast. Class most likely to attempt to make you breakfast and manage to fuck up scrambled eggs.

Artificer. Love the class but unfortunately I can only think of Belle's father in Beauty and the Beast (1991) when I think of what an artificer looks like. Wizards claimed the hot nerd spot; artificers never had a chance.

Rogue. Anyone can wear black leather. Anyone can twirl a butterfly knife and the ranger is going to be better at using it. You know what rogues are best at? Leaving through the window without waking you up. That's it. Bards have the same skills and then some and they're hotter by design. There are other classes with superior physical skills. Burst damage is already not actually that useful in 5e combat and even less so in the bedroom.

#people will be into rogues for the aesthetic and forget that studded leather armor is widely available #tentatively making rebloggable again but artificerfuckers you're on the THINNEST of ice and it's cracking. #maybe use your technological knowledge to make your own post? just a thought.

[mirclealignr]

understanding love | tristan dugray.

devoting your time to shakespeare had become routine for nearly two weeks in preparation for your quiz tomorrow. mr. medina was a softer teacher than most, but he was still a stickler for the rules and was not lenient in his marking. chilton needed to maintain standards and it was your intention to set those standards.

it was a plan that started incredibly well, until tristan dugray began to pay more attention to you than usual. you’d always been friendly, some may even say friends, but this was different. you felt your focus slip when tristan’s eyes were upon you, or when he was seated next to you in class. but more out of the ordinary was that he was looking, staring actually, and purposely sitting down next to your desk or in front of it so he could turn around and talk to you.

trudging into school with your many books and folders, you found an empty bench to sit and began reciting sonnets, plays and remembering all the dates you could with the time you had left. it was imperative you did well on this test, absolutely crucial. tristan probably didn’t care one bit about the letter grade he received in red ink upon his paper next week, but you did.

outside the classroom, five minutes before the test was due to begin, you waited impatiently and anxiously, mumbling incoherently under your breath.

“what’s up, y/l/n?” tristan asked as he approached, sauntering down the hall without a care in the world.

his tie was loose and his shirt almost untucked, but he still looked smart in his chilton uniform. with an easy smile and confident strut, you felt yourself become more flustered trying to think of an answer to his simple, common question.

“just- just cramming,” you replied, finishing the quote under your breath that he had interrupted.

“why? we all know you’re going to ace it,” he shrugged.

“yeah, because i study as much as i do.”

tristan leaned against the wall beside you, looking up to the ceiling for a moment as if he was thinking.

“let not the marriage of true minds admit impediments,” recited tristan, turning his head against the wall to look at you with amused eyes.

he looked at you almost expectantly behind the humoured exterior, but for a moment you forgot the next line as he watched you intently, as if he was seeing through you.

“um,” you shook your head, “love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove,” you added, recollecting the next line to sonnet 116 after a moment to compose yourself.

“o no, it is an ever fixed mark,” tristan said back to you, “i bet you could recite the whole thing in less than a minute. you don’t have to worry about the quiz, just relax for a minute, breathe,” he laughed, reminding you of how hard you’d work without having been there to see it.

“i’m surprised you know it,” you scoffed, “but thanks.”

“hey, i can appreciate shakespeare when he’s talking about something i understand,” he quirked an eyebrow.

“you understand love?” you asked him innocently.

“i think i’m starting to,” he replied, his gaze never averting, his smile never fading as he looked at you in a dreamlike state.

oh. your cheeks heated under this realisation, but before you could process the sweet moment or respond to his subtle advances, the first bell rang and mr. medina was ready for you.

#tristan dugray #tristan dugray x reader #tristan dugray x you #tristan dugray fanfiction #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls

[t0rturedangel]

╭ . . . a guide to becoming noticeable ੭

• ➛ PART ONE

Why is it that its always the last period of the day that it seems like time has slowed down? That's the question you were thinking as you watched the hands of the clock tick their way around, your eyes slowly blinking as you weren't able to process anything the teacher was waffiling on about, instead calculating how long it will take until the end of the dreadful lesson though it was proven to be difficult as you were on the edge of falling asleep.

and just when you least expected it, God answered your prayers and the bell rung causing all chaos to rein over the classroom, each student within scrambling to get their stuff into their bags and run out of the room. Luckily, you had packed your stuff away early so you had a chance to be one of the first to leave instead of being pressed against all the other people in the door frame.

Leaving everyone in that room behind you took a breath of air, looking around noting that the hallways were filled with, thankfully, not that many people only 3 to 6 crowds of friend groups standing around chatting about their plans for after school, ignoring them and their side glares you maneuvered you way to your locker where two familiar people stood, one happily talking and the other listening silently.

" Hey guys " you greeted, smiling at the two as their heads turned. The shorter of the pair's eyes and smile widened, he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around you squeezing you, practically crushing you while rambling on about how much he's happy to see you as if you hadn't seen him less than 2 hours ago, BUTTERS'S looks defiantly deceive how strong he actually is, since the boy is so much stronger than people give him for, you swear he could easily pick up ERIC CARTMAN but that's up for debate. " BUTTERS! SHIT- YOU'RE CRUSHING ME " you gasped slapping his back, begging for freedom from his grip but it seemed that your pleading fell onto deaf ears as his grip didn't loosen but rather became even stronger causing you to struggle against him even more.

You swear you were about to pass out due to lack of oxygen if it were not for the other person, DOVAHKIIN , to pull the blonde away from you causing a frown to form on his face which almost -almost- made you want to let butters latch onto you again but thankfully you only lost oxygen and not your logic too. " Thanks Dovah- Butter's you almost killed me via asphyxiation " Dovahkiin nodded at your thanks to them and patted both your and Butter's shoulders not uttering a word, like usual. The popular kid seemed to never want to talk to anyone, they couldn't even be bribed into it- you know from first hand experience and it seemed that even though they were extremely popular with everyone- due to an old stupid game they played with all the 'popular' kids at this school back when they first moved in called 'The stick of Truth'- they always choose to hang around you, Butter's and Scott which you appreciated since they're chill- one of the chillest but maybe its because they never fucking talked.

" Where's SCOTT? " You asked, tilting your head " Oh yeah! I forgot to tell you- Scott's at the Principles office for walking out of the lesson " " Thats like the fifth time he's done this " you groaned, its true Scott was trying to get a reputation of being a 'bad boy' so he could fit in with the popular kids since he hated being one of the 'outcasts' but that didnt mean he hated you guys he just didnt like being bullied. Speaking of Scott, you heard his desperate pleas for help and another voice screaming a him to quote ' Get your ass back here you lispy bastard '

Immediately Scott was seen running away from a very pissed of STAN MARSH, the school's star quarter back, screaming apologies- causing havoc in the hall. Within practical seconds, Scott was behind you, shaking- Stan glaring at both of you. " Move, reject. " Stan demanded calling you by the stupid nickname you've gain by most of the kids at the school, his fists shaking as his blood boiled, your lack of response was weird, weather it was because of fear, or literally anything else you didn't say anything and you didn't even look at him causing the boy Infront of you to grow even more pissed, his anger now directed to you, Scott shook stepping away from behind you to Dovah and Butters, knowing the Stan will probably want to fight you he didn't want to get into the cross fire. Now you and the black haired teen were having a stare down (it was more like Stan was glaring daggers at you while you looked down to the floor). As much as Stan wanted to punch you for not moving he didn't, maybe it was because one of his best friend's Dovah was there but it's not like you'll ever know, before turning back he shoved you which obviously made you stumble back and fall due to your stupid choice of letting your guard down. " Ow! " You yelped landing on your ass, everyone around you (excluding your friends and Stan) let out quiet giggles or pitiful comments at your misfortune. Looking up you registered that the marsh kid was gone, most likely at his girlfriend's, Wendy's, side the two of them always on a 'on and off' relationship.

Butters stood by your side after making sure Stanley was far away, a saddened look on his face a hand out for you to grab, which you did and easily stood up. " Thanks butters, fuck that hurt " you groaned " I had a pen in my back pocket, so I think I stabbed my cheeks, they're like one of the bests part of me " Scott pulled a grossed out face, Butters's worry grew and Dovah . . . well, Dovah stared at you mentally agreeing with you " Ew [ Name ] ! Don't say that! " "Shut up Scott! It's your fault this happened " you snapped back, flipping the boy off and as much as you wanted to fight him you knew that it wouldn't be the best idea so you just began to walk off, Butters and Dovah quickly joining your side leaving a very pissy Scott behind, who trailed slowly behind complaining how 'you could've moved' and that he would've been able to 'out run Stan' making you laugh " Nice joke Scott " you wiped a fake tear from your eye " I wasn't joking ! " " Uh huh as if your slow ass could ever out run Stan " " I could! I did it just a few minutes ago! " " Barely! He was like centimetres away from grabbing you and beating you to a bloody pulp "

The two of you kept squabbling as you neared the exit of the school's building. " Uhm hey fellas I gotta go now! If I don't get back home soon my parents will ground me! " Giving you three a smile he turned around and left, two out of the three of you returning the smile. " And then there were three " you shoved your hands into the pockets of your trousers " more like two, I need a go too ya know " " Yes yes, bye bye Scott we won't miss you " you blinked at him innocently " Fuck you " and with that Scott was gone.

Now that you were left alone with Dovah as company all of your attention was on them " Sorry I wasn't talking much to you Dovah, Scott was there. " No response no reaction from them and yet you could perfectly understand their emotions and what they wanted to 'tell' you " Awh, thanks, now. " You turned your head to the direction of the car park " Let's go home " with a nod the two of you were off to go find your car. Quiet a long time ago the both of you had saved enough and pulled through to buy a pretty decent car, it was rather modern and relatively fast so in your guys' eyes it was perfect.

As soon as you found your car you got in, both in you respective seats yours being the passenger seat and Dovah's being the divers, for the life of you you never knew why they were obsessed with being the driver, every time you asked or even suggested the idea of you driving they simple shook their head and clutched onto the car keeps protectively- it wasn't like you were a bad driver, you passed your car test or whatever its called with flying colours! You sighed as you sat comfortably in your seat, well as comfortable as you can get when the sting of a pen stabbing your butt was still there.

" Come on Dovah, start the car let's get home yeah? " You asked, putting you seatbelt on but when you didn't hear the car start you looked over to meet their face " Dovah? " They gave you a look " what is it Dovah? " Pulling out their phone they showed you a tweet Wendy posted a few days ago about a party " uh- Dovah Why'd you - " looking away from the phone to Dovah you were caught of guard by his puppy dog eyes " Dovah. Dovah no. " You narrowed your eyes trying not to be tempted by the desperate look in his eyes " Dovah stop. " He, in fact, did not stop " Dova- " 'please' he mouthed intensifying his puppy dog eyes to the point where it would seem out right criminal to say no

" Fine. Will that make you happy " he nodded seeming to be happy though his face very clearly didn't show it, patting your shoulder before turning back to start the car, that was stupid- you would've said yes even without the puppy eyes since you loved to party. You shook your head, pulling your own phone out, staring at the tweet 'next friday' huh? That's three day away. You turned your phone off and stared ahead, watching all the cars fall behind us as Dovahkiin drove at a life sentence type of speed, he always drove quickly even though you've (multiple times) reprimanded him for it he never stopped and never seemed to get in trouble for it, he had a way of getting out of trouble really easily it was scary.

Making it to your house was the quickest trip ever, it was almost seconds. Before getting out you smiled at your friend, thanking him for the ride he'd given you and walked to the front of your house, sighing as you got ready to open the door and fall asleep on the couch.

Three days until the party.

#x reader #south park x reader #dovahkiin southpark #stan marsh #butters leopold stotch x reader #scott malkinson #female reader #god this is long #a guide to becoming noticeable #love sp #i love south park #and butters #i love butters #OOC #They're very ooc #dont be mean to me bc of it tho #i tried #😭 #anyway #south park #south park x reader serise #south park x you #south park butters #fnaf reference #😃 #im so tired #SPOTIFY WONT WORK UGH #wtf is a quarter back #im bri'ish #brit

[forineffablereasons]

hello darcy! this is such a strange thing to ask, but i've had this quote in my notes app for years and i cannot for the life of me figure out what its from. part of me thinks it may have been something i grabbed from one of your fics or an ask you answered. i don't expect you to have everything you've ever written memorized, but does this quote ring a bell to you? (1/2)

(2/2) "it's not always an easy thing, finding out you were loved. it's not always easy to look at the empty spaces of your life and to realise that there was love that could have filled them, if only someone had been braver, or perhaps less cruel. it's not always easy to look back on the moments you were alone, and to reconcile them with someone who might have been there with you, if only someone had reached out. it's not always easy to find out that you were loved without having known that love up close.

hi darling!! I do know this one, it's one of mine! it's from ch 25 of The Grinch Who Sold Christmas! honestly i'm like very emotions that you thought it came from me, like, it did but i'm honored that you read that back and thought oh yeah that sounds like darcy. thank you!!

#darcy answers

[beevean]

Idw Sonic's "morality" is weird

"I'm gonna keep beating you until you act the way I think is cool"

And what about villains that he knows will never change?

"I know you'll never change your ways, and you're a danger to innocents, but at least I get the pleasure of repeatedly smacking you around"

This just makes the comic's version of Sonic look extremely scummy

"If you change your ways, I get the satisfaction of knowing I beat you into submission. If you don't change your ways, I get the continuous satisfaction of pummeling you for fun. But as long as I personally vibe with your attitude, I'll leave you alone"

Really makes you wonder how he views people

This is one of the multiple reasons I think "Big Oof" deserved to be memed into oblivious for how bad it is, and not just because of the cringe factor.

Think about it carefully. Sonic, in issue #50, makes a long speech that boils down to "I think everyone deserves freedom, including the doctors". He thinks that Eggman and Starline have the chance to redeem themselves, and as such, he can't decide whether they should live or die: he has, in his incorrect words, made peace with enough enemies to know that violence is not always the answer. This is his reaction to Eggman after he caused an untold amount of pain and misery with his Metal Virus:

Even Steven Universe resented the Diamonds, man.

But then Starline dies in #51, a death that comes mere hours after his showdown with Surge. A death that has clearly upset the sensitive Belle. And Sonic's only reaction? Comforting his friend? Thoughtful silence because there are no appropriate words? No. It was basically "lol".

I would wager that a person who is so deeply convinced that everyone deserves the chance to live and experience the world and make choices would be a little more disappointed that one of said people was suddenly deprived of said freedom.

And what was the common argument against this?

"Well Starline was a monster who brainwashed two kids, no wonder Sonic didn't cry over him!"

Oh. So Starline didn't deserve redemption, after all. (let's ignore how this implies that 1) Sonic knew about that, which no he didn't, and 2) Eggman is not as bad as Starline, which lol) So Sonic clearly thought of Starline as being so evil, so twisted inside, that his only epitaph should be a meme, in the face of his philosophy.

Then what the fuck was the point of that long verbal masturbation sequence?

I tell you what: to put Surge at her place. To place himself as superior to her. To shut her (valid) concerns down. To dismiss her. He was talking for the sake of an epic quote.

Oh, was that not the intended interpretation? Then maybe you should learn how to write a character.

(speaking of which, his insistence that Surge will come around to him because "he has made peace with enemies before" is not only incorrect, but fucking scummy. You asshole. You utter insensitive arrogant pustule. How come you give Surge less agency than his own abuser. I am so glad that you barely feature in IDW anymore because the writers have decided that they'd rather ruin their OCs.)

#fans don't look

[thefuseoftemptation]

THE UNEXPECTED PT. 2 ||

PT.1 HERE

EDDIE MUNSON X FEM!READER

SUMMARY: Eddie gets help from Steve so he could talk to you.

A/N:

WARNING(S): cussing, pining, second hand embarrassment??? Not really though, not even sure if it counts honestly,,,,

“Uh, yeah, you just might…”

. . .

“So, you aren’t looking to rent a film?” Steve queried, Eddie shut his eyes briefly and shook his head. “No, man, thought I was clear with that.” 

Eddie had been a little hesitant to tell Steve why he was there, initially choosing to just lie and say he was just checking out the films, but when he seemingly kept peeking up through his lashes every so often as he looked through the tapes that were shelved—Steve couldn’t help but question why he felt it was necessary to stare. The senior sighed and ended up telling the truth.

The guy that stood behind the counter held nothing but utter confusion on his features, as he still tried to process everything that Eddie had just told him. Steve’s mouth was parted, brows furrowed and fingers threaded through his hair as he thought back to it all. The metalhead seemed to be frustrated by the other guy, not into having to repeat because honestly, it just reminded him that he wasn’t capable when it came to talking to girls. Hell, he’d never been near one until you and even at that, he still managed to choke up whenever he got the nerve. But then again, it’s not quite common for them to be near him to begin with so why would that change.

“Sorry, I just got to get this straight. You’re here for nothing other than to get my help on how to talk to girls? Especially the one you like?”

“No, only for the one I like.” Eddie corrected.

“Right—who, from what I heard and understood, seems to be the only one that doesn’t ignore or judge you for being some sort of freak—which you are, no offense—and Henderson thought to suggest me because he thinks that I could help?”

“Mhm, yeah, the little butthead was incessant on ‘Steve Steve Steve Steve!’ So, I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t kept going on ‘bout you and how you were so experienced. Not to mention, I’m a little desperate, I’ll admit, alright? ‘M not sure if I could take anymore of me fumbling with my words or like most of the time, just fuckin standing there, because the embarrassment dude—not pleasant, I’m telling you.” Eddie sighed as he threw his hands up before suddenly bringing the tip of his thumb to his mouth, as his teeth chewed on it.

“Huh, I guess I still got it,” Steve grinned as he looked at Eddie who only rolled his eyes.

“Sure, could you help me or not, Harrington?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll help you.” He said as he clapped a hand on the back of Eddie’s shoulder.

. . .

“So, tell me again, why are we here?” Eddie asked as he looked at Steve, who was seated on the driver’s side. He honestly knew why but he just thought he should ask—still.

They had pulled into the school lot and parked to the back, tucked behind other vehicles and under the shade that the trees offered. It was late noon and the bell hadn’t rung yet as it wasn’t even time to be dismissed, so it was quiet—only few students could be seen as they strolled to their cars.

“It’s what we discussed, man.” Steve responded simply as he kept his eyes on the doors.

“That still doesn’t really answer my question.” Eddie stated. Steve released a breath through his nose and turned to look at him.

“Look, I’m here to pick up the little buttheads—they needed a ride and apparently, that’s on me—and you’re here to talk to Y/N. Alright?”

“Uh, y-yeah.” Eddie nodded as he shifted in his seat nervously. “But you’re sure, we can’t—”

“Dude, you’ll be okay, you hear me? You got nothing to worry ‘bout. We’ve been through it before. Just, remember keep it short first and when you feel less tense in the conversation then ease into it. Ask the little things, you know—simple things. Nothing too you know, major. Just casual.” Steve gestured.

“Casual?” Eddie raised his brow.

“Yeah, no references or quoting what’s it called—” Steve leaned his head back, trying to think, then snapped his fingers. “Lord of the Flies!”

“LOTR?”

“Huh?”

“It’s short for ‘Lord of the Rings,’ I’m assuming it’s the book you were really referring to, that’s—”

“No, no, no. None of that.”

Eddie only nodded, trying to ease his nerves by picking at the loose strings that were ripped by the knees of his pants. The sound of the doors shutting had the guys look over, Eddie’s breath suddenly caught in his throat as he watched you emerge from the school.

“Is that her?” Steve asked.

“Yeah…”

“Huh, she’s really—”

“No. Nope. Don’t even, Harrington.” Eddie voiced abruptly.

“I wasn’t! I just—forget it just get out.” Steve said as he nudged Eddie, and reclined his seat back so he’d be out of view.

Eddie shut the door and made his way towards you only to stop and turn when he heard Steve. “Remember what we discussed!”

“Jesus—would you shut up!” He hissed, as gestured to you, who stood a few feet from him. Steve gave him a thumbs up which earned an eye roll from the senior. When he was close enough, he cleared his throat, not wanting to scare you with his presence.

You turned from where you were, putting your things in the back seat, and looked up to see Eddie there.

“Oh. Hey, Eddie, how are you?” You greeted with a smile as you leaned on the door frame.

“Um, hey Y/N. I-I’m alright just uh, thought I’d come by since” he rubbed the back of his neck “I was here….” Seriously, Munson.

You chuckled and looked down “Well, I would assume so since it is school. Unless you know, you were skipping which wouldn’t be wise seeing as you need to graduate, unless you’d like to be here for yet another year.” You point.

“Right, uh, that’s very true.” Eddie said as he put his hands in his pocket. “Wouldn’t really be looking forward to that, again.” He mumbled, and glanced to the side.

“Yeah, it’d mean we wouldn’t be able to see the other anymore.” You commented, tilting your head to the side.

“H-Huh?” Eddie turned to you with wide eyes.

“Well, we wouldn’t, you know? You’d still be here and I’d be off at college maybe. When honestly, you should be out there too.”

“R-Really?” “Yeah, totally.” You bumped his shoulder with yours and grinned.

It went fluently from there—the conversation that is—until Eddie choked, again. It was sudden honestly, the bell had rung and you two were still talking—‘bout things that thoughtlessly came to your heads, chuckling every so often. You made it easy, made it comfortable, and even after the countless times of him stuttering—you never judged. So, it was going well. Though when you made a subtle comment, a quite coy comment really, it had Eddie stuck.

Were you flirting with him?

The seniors eyes went wide and mouth parted, and he was more than sure his cheeks were flushed. He tried to figure out what to say, how to respond—but all that came out of Eddie was—

“Fuck. Uh, I got to go.” He said as he gestured his thumb back. He went to take a step back but ended up tripping on the curb. There were a few students who stopped to look, others pointed as they joked at his expense.

“Oh—Jesus! Eddie, are you alright?” You gasp as you bent down. He quickly got up and dusted himself off as if nothing happened. He swore by now his cheeks were full on red. Sure, he had been embarrassed before in front of the student body, he was used to it—but to know that it was done in front of you— made it worse.

“It’s alright. I’m alright, that was uh, intentional.” And with that he turned and left.

Eddie opened the door to the car and slumped himself in the passenger seat. The two freshmen were already in the back, as they had been let out, and Steve was still in the driver’s seat behind the wheel. It was quiet for a little until Eddie mumbled something out that was incomprehensible.

“Huh?” Steve voiced.

“So, uh, well?” Eddie asked as he looked up at him. 

“It could’ve been worse.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Dude, you just fuckin planted into the gravel.”

They all spoke simultaneously, though their heads turned to Mike when they heard what he said.

“Seriously, Wheeler?” Steve queried, as he waved his hand ‘round. “Read the fuckin car.”

“C’mon really?” Dustin nudged as he nodded towards Eddie who looked like he was just ‘bout to wring Mike’s neck.

“Thanks, Wheeler, for that.” He gritted as he turned forward and dropped his head in his hands.

“Munson, look—like I said, it could’ve been worse. At least you got to talk to her, you know? I mean, seemed like you two really had something there before it went to, well you know—”

“Could we just go?” Eddie mumbled as he slumped himself further into the seat.

Steve sighed and went to put the keys in the ignition and took a brief glance to where you still were—and with that, he put the gear in reverse and left.

. . .

“I’m not even sure why you’re still helping me, Harrington. Were you not there the other day? Did you not see what happened?” Eddie spoke as he trailed behind Steve who was restocking the shelves. He was supposed to be at school but skipped since the class he had—you were in it. And he was really not looking forward to it especially after what happened.

“No, no, I saw. Had full view of it and may I say—little hard to watch after that. But honestly you’re the one still here so.” Steve said as he checked over his shoulder.

“It’s called desperation, Harrington, ever heard of it? Also, I just thought what more could happen, y’know?”

“Hold up, don’t say that! You say that and something worse happens—never say that.” Steve exclaimed as he turned and pointed a finger at Eddie’s chest. “What the hell happened that day anyway?”

Eddie looked down as he shuffled his feet, and mumbled. “She flirted with me…”

“Seriously? Munson, when girls flirt that means they’re interested. That means they like you! Jesus—what did you say?”

“What do you mean what did I say?! Have I not been clear on why I need your help?” Eddie threw his hands up in exasperation.

Steve sighed and put his hands on his hips, looking to the metalhead who was chewing at his thumb, as he stared back.

“Well—get ready to learn.” Steve clapped a hand on the back of Eddie’s shoulder and pushed him forward.

. . .

It was quiet and empty in the room where the recent DnD game was hosted, Eddie was the only one there, as he picked up the pieces that still lingered on the table.

He had went back to school later that afternoon when he and Steve were done with their ‘meeting.’ He was pulled from what was at hand when he heard a voice—the sudden presence made him jump.

“Jesus H Christ!” Eddie clutched his chest, the dye that he held tumbled to the floor.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry—I tried knocking but there was no answer so I thought that maybe nobody heard me.” You rushed as you held up your hands. It was much like the other day when you were by your locker, only this time, he was the one that got startled.

“The hell, Y/L/N!”

“I know! I’m sorry, but at least we’re even.” You joked. Eddie chuckled as he tried to tame his breaths, and once composed, he bent down to retrieve the dye that fell.

“Here.” He looked up to see one of them in your hand. He reached forward to take it, fingers brushing against the other’s as you guys got back to your feet. Eddie cleared his throat, and threaded his hands through his curls—‘casual.’ ‘Keep it casual.’ He repeated in his head, the words Steve had been incessant with.

“So, uh, what brings you here?” Eddie asked with the tilt of his head as he leaned on the table.

“Well, you never showed up for class and I um, thought to get the notes for you. Also, I had to check up, you know? Make sure you were alright—from the other day, ‘course. You just seemed like you were in a rush? Maybe a little flustered?” You say as you handed him the papers. Eddie hesitantly reached forward and took them, mumbling out a small ‘thanks.’ He was so taken back by the thought that it had the words dying on his tongue.

“I uh, I’m good. My dignity is still there….some what.” He muttered, as he rubbed his arm nervously.

“You’re not hurt are you? You know, from when you fell?” You asked, voice laced with concern.

“No, no, well, there a few small scratches but nothing much. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Eddie waved it off and took a breath, that was honestly the first sentence he could get out that didn’t have him stuttering.

“Good. Look, I uh, should get going. It’s late and I'm sure you have somewhere to be too.” Eddie was sure you could see the way his shoulders slacked, a small frown threatening to show—you could only offer him a smile before you turned to leave but when you got to the door, you suddenly stopped and turned.

“Hey, uh I’m sorry." Your apology had Eddie furrowing his brows in confusion as he looked at you. “What?”

“You know, for when I made that comment, I’m assuming that’s why you left?” You released the knob and took a step forward.

“No, no! That, uh, that wasn’t why. No, Jesus. It wasn’t you honestly, it was me. I just—” Eddie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he looked to you to see you staring back at him expectantly, your features soft. “I just, wasn’t sure how to respond. Um, you see—in case you weren’t aware—I tend to embarrass myself quite often when I’m by you and it’s only because well, I like you. Like really like you.”

Your eyes widen at his confession and your mouth parts a little. You weren’t sure what to say and it had Eddie consumed by nerves.

“Could you please say something because I feeling really vulnerable over here?”

“Oh, sorry! It’s just—I wasn’t expecting that but uh, it’s a relief to hear though because I uh, I like you too.” You let out a breathy chuckle.

“R-Really?” Eddie straightened himself up before taking a step forward. He couldn’t help the grin that formed.

“Yeah, Eddie. I was flirting with you when I made that comment that had you leave so suddenly.” You tease as you crossed your arms. You could see his cheeks reddening even with the lack of lighting in the room.

"Huh, so Harrington was right...” He mumbled under his breath but it wasn’t quiet enough since you heard.

“Harrington? As in Steve Harrington?” You questioned and Eddie nodded. 

“Yeah, he’s sort of uh, been helping me talk to you...” Why Eddie admitted to that? He wasn’t sure. 

“Why, what for?” You asked innocently, and cocked your head to the side. Eddie sighed and rubbed his hands on his pants before he went to speak.

“Look, it’s—I wasn’t sure how to talk to girls especially one I really like. And I couldn’t go through with it again, go through with leaving every time I choked.  So, uh, it was suggested, by my friends, that maybe I should get help from somebody who knew more ‘bout it. Lame? I know, but I just really wanted to talk to you...” Eddie gestured and watched as you took in what he said, trying to see your reaction.

“That’s...really nice—like seriously.” 

“What? You think so?” Eddie pushed himself forward more until he was in front of you.

“Yeah, it’s thoughtful. Sure, it may have been more than I should know but uh, it’s nice to know that a guy went through so much just so he could talk to me—even if he thinks it’s lame.” You say, Eddie rocked back and forth on his heel and ducked his head down.

“Thanks, Eddie.” You peck his cheek and chuckle upon pulling back. He was full on red, mouth dropped in shock. “You still there?” You joke gently knocking on his head and he nods.

“C-Could I maybe kiss you?” 

“That your attempt at flirting?” You grin.

“It’s my desperation, now can I?” You never answered, you just wrapped your arms ‘round his neck and brought your lips together. It was slow at first, tame, but when his tongue suddenly swiped your bottom lip, you gasped, letting him in.

Huh, apparently he wasn’t so helpless. 

Your fingers tangled in his curls, gripping it and giving it a tug which had him groaning. You guys pulled back after a few minutes, resting your foreheads against the others. He pecked your nose and then quickly your lips once more.

“So, uh, guess I won’t be needing Harrington’s help no more.”

You just chuckle and pull him in again.

.

.

.

A/N: feedback and reblogs are appreciated.

TAG(S): @pitiful-anonymous-vampire @jessicainhell @bakugouswh0r3 @golden-wander @just-always-tired @phantomxoxo @eddiemvnsongf

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x fem!reader

[oddberryshortcake]

I dare you to talk about Malleus

The gaslighting gatekeeping girl boss himself (spoilers included)

What I love about them: Absolutely stunning design. He perfectly embodies this weird gothic creature prince. Idc what anyone says, I love his Maleficent parallels. yES be a scary fairytale villain who wreaks havoc and is a force to be reckoned with!

I like that I see a lot of Maleficent 2014 in him, where there’s that sweetness and familial love.

What I hate about them: The man does not understand consent and puts in no effort to understand it. He doesn’t see himself in the wrong either, his dorm vignette is pretty telling of this asdfgd It’s not something I hate and it works for his character, but I completely get why Lilia got frustrated with him it’s like…Bro cmon lol 

Also not so much him but about perception surrounding him is that there’s two very polarizing views, where he’s either a perfect prince or a yandere that only cares about one person and not multiple people or something, and Malleus is just more complex than that, but I get how not knowing him too in-depth can lead to more prevalent fanon perception. I’m not disappointed with what he’s doing in canon at all so I’m happy!

Favorite Moment/Quote: For something wholesome, him getting to befriend the gargoyle at Noble Bell College. Like hell yes, Malleus W.

But him cursing all of NRC was so phenomenal, and the humming to the title screen?? Shook me. His little villain speech to Silver, the fact that it was really him watching everyone and saying it was his duty as king to do so. It’s brilliant. VILLAINS ARE GREAT YA’LL

What I would like to see more focus on: Genuinely pretty curious about his relationships with his little found family. I know we might get answers soon, but knowing Malleus would sneak out of the castle to spend time with Lilia and Silver in the cottage, there’s a lot that can be revealed through that. How did he feel about it? Was he happy or jealous? Basically I wanna know more about his story and experiences!

What I would like to see less focus on: Malleus get your ass into gear and start putting in more effort to understand humans, you got MC as your friend and Silver as your lil bro and you STILL are dumbfounded. It’s bEEN 3 YEARS MY MAN I know you can do it!!

Favorite pairing with: MC x Malleus for obvious reasons lol 

Favorite friendship: Yeah, that’ll be [INFORMATION NOT YET KNOWN] and yknow his family. The Malleus/Silver parallels are pretty interesting 

NOTP: Any member of his family really 

Favorite headcanon: He gave MC a fae blessing without them even knowing (at least this is canon for Tia)

#asks #Malleus Draconia

[beyonddmythoughtssworld]

Broken Hearts Club || Part II

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x Reader, slight!JJ Maybank x Reader 

Summary: Rafe proves to be insatiable as you find it harder to ignore him. 

Word Count: 4.4k 

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, choking, cursing, minor verbal altercation, drinking

“Do you plan on explaining why I had to pick you up from Figure 8 when last I checked you were on your way home?”

Your head whips to where JJ is standing with his arms crossed, leaned against the bar of the Country Club as he awaits your answer. You brushed past JJ to take the money from your last customers to the register, shrugging as you tried to play it off while you formulated an answer.

It struck you that while you spent the morning wrapping your head around what happened last night, you didn’t even think of coming up with an excuse as to why you were on the other side of the island, at the ass crack of dawn, with just a shirt on. You knew you were stupid to call JJ this morning, but you were a downright idiot for thinking he wasn’t gonna question you about it afterwards.

“… I decided to go to the bar instead. Met a guy.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Well, if you replace the bar with the beach and guy with the man you hate most in this world. You glance to gauge his reaction, seeing a frown on his face. Confusion came over once again, “… so you left drinking with us… to go to the bar? What happened to your mom ‘being on your ass about getting home’?” he finger quotes, the wrinkle between his eyebrows only growing deeper the more he questioned you.

You sighed, “I went home. She yelled. Passed out. I left and went to the bar.”

“… and went home with a guy.”

“Yes.” 

“… A guy who lives in Figure 8.”

“Yes.”

“Who was too much of an asshole to drive you home the next morning?” he scoffed, “Way to pick ‘em.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” you mumble before you can stop yourself. He opens his mouth to rebuttal, but you’ve already walked to your section to check on your customers. After making your rounds, you walk back to where JJ was leaning against the register, still looking at you except now with this unreadable expression.

“So do I know this asshole?”

I rolled my eyes, “JJ.”

For a second, you almost think he sounds jealous. You can’t remember any time he’s questioned John B or Pope’s whereabouts, and you can’t help feel a little hopeful that this hookup sparked any reaction from the blonde. 

He raised his hands, “I’m just asking. As your friend I’m allowed to be a little curious about your.. endeavors.”

“Oh, is that the word of the day?” You smiled sarcastically, him wrinkling his nose back at you and pulling at the curl in front of your face. You swipe at his hand, hip bumping him away from the register and pointing to the other side of the bar, “Customer, Sherlock.”

He glances back, before returning his gaze to you and glaring playfully, “I have more questions, ma’am, so I hope you don’t plan on leaving this club anytime soon.”

“Please go,” You laughed at his corniness, shaking my head and he went to the other side of the bar. The bell of the door rang as the next set of customers made their way in, you not really paying attention other than that it’s a table for three. Knowing your section is the only free one, you focus on grabbing a tray and three sets of napkins and utensils for the table. As you’re wrapping the utensils in the cloth, you can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching you. At first you think it’s JJ, so you turn your head to the side only to see him fully focused on making a drink.

When turning your head forward, you jump slightly at the sight of Rafe standing directly across from you at the bar. He’s wearing his regular, a blue polo with khakis, a golf glove adoring his hand. He sets both his elbows on the bar, leaning forward, “I guess I have the pleasure of being serviced by you twice in less than twenty-four hours.”  

Your eyes narrowed at him as you looked at him in disgust, “Don’t make me punch you in front of all these people.”  

“Now, is that any way to treat a paying customer? Have you already forgotten your manners from last night?” You hate the smug look on his face, but can’t help but blush as the flashes of last night came through your mind like a movie, the dominance he had over you and your willingness to do as he asked just for a simple promise of release-

No.  

You ignore him, walking over to where the rest of the Death Squad is sitting. You stop at the table, feeling the presence of Rafe right behind you as he slid to get to his own seat, his hands resting on your waist as he got by. You rolled your eyes at the unnecessary move, looking to Kelce and Topper to find both sets of eyes on you. Normally, they’re looking down at the menu as if they haven’t been here enough to know exactly what’s on it, ignoring your complete existence as if you were nothing more than someone a bug they can’t swat away until they need to order something rudely. 

This time though, they’re both looking at you with the same curious expression, and it makes you angrier than it did when they simply ignored you. At least when they ignored you, you knew why. Now, you can only imagine why the hell they were looking at you like a zoo animal. A part of you doubts that Rafe would say anything to his friends about last night, he would rather confess to murder than admit he fucked what he considered a low class citizen. Maybe they just saw the way he grabbed you to get by and that peaked their interest. Yeah, we’re gonna go with that.  

“What can I get you guys to start off with?” You ask, pulling out your notepad and pen.

Fortunately, they spend the rest of their time being as cordial as they know how. You avoid Rafe’s gaze through the rest of your shift, only glancing at him when Topper or Kelce caught his attention. In the outside world, nothing’s changed between you two, but you can’t shake the feeling that the man sitting in your section had been inside you just the night before, and you don’t know how you feel about that sentiment enough to even begin to unpack what that means.

One one hand, it was a stupid drunken mistake that you would do anything to forget. On the other hand, last night was the first night you can remember where JJ wasn’t at the forefront of your mind. When you were kissing Rafe, you weren’t thinking about the unrequited feelings you had for the pogue. When you were fucking Rafe, you weren’t thinking much of anything. He did more for you in one night than months of drinking has in terms of just being able to offer a distraction.

None of that changes that Rafe is still Rafe. He’s the same pompous dick that on more than one occasion has made you cry out of pure anger. Only now, he’s made you cry for the exact opposite reason. Your eyes drift from Rafe to JJ, and you make your mind up instantly. Even if nothing were to happen with JJ, you can’t betray him even more than you already have. You slept with someone who’s hit him on numerous occasions, littering his skin with blood and bruises. You’ve cleaned up after the fights he’s started, and you know JJ would never forgive you if he finds out what happened last night.

So you decide then and there that from now, you’ll do everything in your power to stay the hell away from Rafe Cameron.

-- 

The party was in full swing when you and the rest walked in, taking in your surroundings. Sarah mentioned a party over on kookland she heard from an old friend, Scarlet, and convinced us all to go with the promise of free drinks. JJ was the loudest in saying no, but we all felt the same way about showing up to a party full of these rich assholes. But, you dangle free drinks in our face and it doesn’t take much convincing after that.

As we walk in, I feel JJ’s arm go around my shoulder, him leaning in to me and saying, “Stay close, alright? I don’t trust these assholes as far as I can throw them.”

You force yourself to not overthink, knowing this is just how he is. You’ve learned a long time ago not to read into the little things he does, even the small flirting moments because in the end, they don’t mean the same to him as they did to you. This is proven when he leans over to say the same to the rest of the group, his arm slipping from your shoulder as he leans into Kiara, asking if she’s alright. 

She smiles at him and nods, their eyes lingering for a second too long. 

You take the time to scan the party, taking note of the game of beer pong in the kitchen, the endless amount of drinks and dancing bodies littering the house and the dirty looks sent your way by the few who noticed your arrival.

“Let’s play beer pong,” You say to no one in particular, already making your way to the table. You hear JJ curse and follow after you as he tells the rest to meet up within a couple of hours and call if needed.

“What happened to stay close?” he asked, and you gave him a pointed look, “I’m just as close to you as I was when you first told me. Besides, the table was free and I didn’t want to miss our chance.”

He took your answer, clapping his hands to catch the attention of the guys who just finished their game. He challenges them to a game, and when they decline he turns around, “Okay, who’s not a pussy and wants to lose some beer pong?”

Hands clasped on JJ’s shoulders, roughly shaking him, “Very bold of you to make a scene at a party you don’t belong at, Pogue.”

Shaking Rafe off, JJ clenches his fist as he turns to face the taller man. His chest puffs up, both men trying to display some stupid amount of testosterone. You sigh, grabbing JJ’s arm and pulling him back, “We’re here to have fun, J, just ignore him.”

The older guy takes the moment to turn his eyes to you, scanning you so quickly you would’ve missed it if you blinked. He smirks, “Fancy seeing you here.”

You avert your eyes, not wanting to acknowledge the man any more than you have to. It’s been a week since the Country Club, a week since you’ve slept blonde. You’ve done a good enough job at ignoring him if you don’t count having to serve him after his blatant requests to sit in your section. If he’s with his friends, he’d order normally but would look at you as if he was wishing you were on the menu. He did show up once alone, though, when you were working the bar.

“Go away,” you immediately greet him with a glare. All week he’s been coming in here and at this point you’re annoyed. He refuses to be seated in any other section, and now he’s sitting here with this arrogant look on his face. He makes himself comfortable, leaning forward on the island and flashing a smile.

“I’ll take a Jack and Coke,” he bows his head, catching my eye, “Please.”

You walk over to behind the bar, grabbing a sign and walking back over to the bar before placing it on there for him to see. Under Federal Law, we observe the right to refuse service to customers.

It’s his turn to glare at you, “Ha. Ha. Jack and Coke.”

You roll your eyes, but nevertheless begin making his drink. You place it on the counter and he picks it up, taking a sip. His eyes remain on yours over the rim of the glass, and you break eye contact, taking a quick breath to shake off the annoying heat starting to build up on your face, “Anything else I can get you?”

“I would really appreciate a text back,” he instantly replied. I point my eyes at him, “Something on the menu, Rafe.”

“Okay, I’ll have another sex on the beach,” Your mouth drops open, him laughing at your reaction and smiling arrogantly. His eyes are sparking in mischief, and you want to throw the drink you made him in his face. You get over your shock, and your lips going in a straight line as you lean forward.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” you look him in the eyes, refusing to break the contact even when he leans closer to you, “What happened at the beach, is never gonna happen again. So cherish that memory for as long as you can, because that’s all you’re ever gonna get.”

“Hey.” JJ blocks Rafe’s access to you, pushing him back roughly, “Don’t look at her. I’m right here.”

“Guys! This is a party, can we act like it?” Sarah saves the day, walking over and glaring at her brother before smiling warningly at you guys. You knew what she was saying without words. We’re outnumbered here, we need to play nice if we don’t want this night to end in a brawl not even ten minutes after we arrived.

“How about we play some pong? You win, I’ll leave you guys to have your fun and enjoy the endless supply of alcohol. We win… Well, let’s leave that a surprise.” Rafe offers. In his mind, there’s no way he’s about to lose so he doesn’t think twice of offering them a chance to stay. He’s like a cat playing with his food.

“Fine. John B-!” JJ begins to call, Rafe quickly tsking and shaking his head, wiggling his pointing finger back and forth before pointing at you.

“She plays.”

“Look, asshole-” JJ starts, and I grab his arm before facing him towards me, glaring at him, “I wanted to play anyway. It was my idea, remember?”

“Yeah, that was before he decided to join and bargain.” he spits out in disgust at the kook, and you sigh before placing both hands lightly on his shoulder, “I’ll be fine. Relax.”

Normally his protectiveness would make your heart skip, but you’re already slightly annoyed at him undressing Kiara with his eyes since before you even arrived and just having to check on her wellbeing within two minutes of being at the party. You know you’re slightly being petty, but at this point you don’t care. 

“Are you two lovebirds done, or should we go ahead and call this a forfeit so you guys can get back to the Cut?”

JJ whips around, the insult ready at the tip of his tongue before I quickly cut him off, “Just set the game up.”

The older guy just smugly looks at me, “Yes ma’am.” He moves to the table, replacing the cups and pouring the liquor into each one.

-- 

It takes you ten minutes to convince JJ you can make it to the bathroom on your own. You’re not too off your ass for that to be a concern, but he’s been hovering over you since the pong game. It was hard to convince JJ that Rafe was just being an asshole with his comments, and that he obviously had no interest in you considering his obvious distaste of your status.

During the game, Rafe continuously did everything to get under your and JJ’s skin. It was obvious he was trying to start a fight to take away from the fact that he was losing, not expecting people he thought so little of to beat him in anything. Little did he know JJ and I play this on a random Monday cause we’re bored and want to get wasted. Even when he or his partner did make a shot, the liquor in our systems only added to our skills. When we won the game, JJ gloated loudly about beating the kook prince, feeling like the fucking man.

You giggled at his antics, catching Rafe’s eye as he went from frustrated to smug within two seconds, replying to the blonde, “Thank your partner. Gotta say, I like a girl who can play some pong and looks good while doing it.”

The smile dropped from JJ’s face, and he moved towards the kook only to be stopped by you grabbing his arms, “Hey, let’s go over there,” pointing to a random part of the house and redirecting him to it. You quickly grab him a beer, watching him down it.

“He says shit just to get under your skin. And even if he did mean it, it’s fucking Rafe. Who cares?” you lightly punch his shoulder, smiling at him and pouting when he looks at you blankly. Using both of your pointer fingers, you place them on either side of his mouth before pulling up, “Come on, turn that frown upside down.”

He slaps your hands away playfully, and you know you’ve eased him when he smiles at you and says, “Fuck it, let’s get drunk.”

Three shots later, you get the inevitable feeling that you need to have your first tipsy pee of the night, removing yourself from your group of friends to walk up the stairs. You slightly stumble down the hall, gripping the wall and giving yourself a second before making your way to the end of the hall. You open three doors before finally opening one to a bathroom.  

After using it and washing your hands, you stumble out of the bathroom right into a hard chest. Hands grip your waist, holding you from falling back. You open your mouth to thank the stranger, but quickly swallow it back down at the sight of Rafe looking down at you. You’re all too aware that his hands are still on your waist, and you push at his chest to move him back. He doesn’t move an inch, and you try not to let that go straight to your core.

“You gonna keep standing here like a creep or let me through?”  

“Worried your boyfriend’s gonna send out a watch party if you take too long?” he retorts, walking forward, forcing your own feet to step back. You narrow your eyes at him, trying to go around him only for him to step in your way as he continues to walk forward. When he makes it in far enough to close the bathroom door, he uses the grip on your waist to move you towards the sink, pressing you into it.

“Rafe,” you sighed out of frustration, using more force to push at him. His hands quickly grab your wrists, placing them both on either side of you on the counter, leaning down until his lips are brushing against yours, “Are you sure you wanna leave?”

“Yes,” you whisper, but can’t help your glance at his lips before bringing your eyes back to meet his. He cocks his head lightly to the side, placing a kiss at the side of your mouth. His kisses move in a line on your cheek, letting go of one of your hands to push your hair behind your ear so he has more room, placing a kiss behind your ear. Loose curls fall back to their former place, but he doesn't let that deter him as he whispers, “You sure about that?”

Kissing back to your mouth, he pulls away and stands straight, letting go of you fully. He steps back, nodding his head towards the door. But that’s all he does, looking at you with an almost predatory gaze as he leans against the wall adjacent to you. He’s silently daring you to leave, and his arrogance would be enough to make you barf if he wasn’t so fucking hot, and before you can think about your next move you reach over to lock the door.

You don’t know what you were thinking. You just told yourself a week ago that this would never happen again, and yet the anticipation is already building inside of you. You can blame the alcohol in your system, but you’re not nearly as drunk as you were the first time you had sex. Despite your silent promise, you haven’t been able to get that night from your head. He made you feel so good, and it was just an escape, so what’s the harm, right?

Walking to his figure on the wall, you raise on your tippy toes at the same time he leans down to crash his lips to yours. His hand comes up to wrap around your throat, switching your positions so you’re now pressed against the wall. His left knee moves between your legs, forcing them apart as he pushes up against your core, your dress sliding up at the movements. The kiss is a repeat of the first night, his mouth moving hotly against yours as he pushes his tongue inside your mouth.

The feelings of your tongues dancing together and his hand on your throat was enough to make you whimper, and his hand tightened their hold, pushing your head back to the wall as he pulled back, “Get on your knees.”

About to drop to your knees without a second thought, you take a second to think about the last time you guys were in this position. Rafe held the same amount of dominance he held now, and you refused to let the kook have the upper hand twice in a row without having to work for it even a little bit. He’s proven to let that get to his big ass head. 

Taking a step back, he gives you more room on the wall. You lift up to place kisses on his neck, finding the spot that makes his head throw back lightly as he fights down a groan. Annoyed at his stubbornness and wanting to hear him, you press your hand against the growing bulge in his pants, and he rewards you with a light moan.

This pushes you to rub against him even more, unbuckling his pants and pulling down his boxers to pull out his thick erection, using two hands to rub up and down as he groans, leaning down to catch your lips again. The kiss is messy, you being too focused on your hand movements and him being too distracted by them.

“Get.” Kiss. “On.” Kiss. “Your knees.”

You smile into the kiss, following his command this time and getting down on both your knees with the help of his hand that’s still wrapped in your hair, pulling his pants down further. His length slaps against your face, and you run your tongue lightly on the vein on the underside of his cock, leading all the way to the tip before slightly sucking on it. You repeat the same cycle a few times, Rafe growing frustrated and using his grip on your hair to pull you back, glaring down at you, “Stop fucking teasing.”

“Ask nicely,” you kiss around his cock, not breaking eye contact even when he throws you a look that can kill you right there. His lips press together in defiance, and you shrug before leaning back.

“Fuck- fine. Please put my cock in your mouth.” He rolls his eyes before his jaw goes slack at the sensation of your lips wrapping around him as you get used to the feeling of him in your mouth. You move halfway down his cock before bobbing her head up and down, not going any further than the halfway point. He allows it for a second, relishing in the feeling of your warm mouth before losing his patience.

“Am I gonna have to shove my cock down your throat?” he growls, and you pull off, kissing the tip once more before replying.

“You can…” you slap his cock against your tongue, making him groan, “..but will you?”

Tightening his hold on you, he answers you by forcing his cock down your throat. You lightly gag, but he holds you at the base, “Hold it. Relax your throat.” You do as he says, and the groan he lets out makes your pussy drip, “Just like that, fuck.”

Pulling you off his cock, he gives you a second to breathe before forcing him down once again. He repeats this process a few more times to get your throat used to the intrusion, before hands grip either side of your face, slamming his cock down your throat. You feel your head start to tap against the wall in time with his rough movements, and your soaked pussy begins to drip arousal down your legs.

You feel him getting closer, so you slap his hands away and hold onto both of his thighs, deepthroating him and holding your head there. He groans loudly, suddenly grabbing your arms and pulling you up, kissing you within an inch of your life.

His hands come down to your ass, gripping the flesh before pulling your underwear down, you helping him finish taking them off and throwing them to the side carelessly. He returns his grip to your thighs, lifting you until you wrap your legs around his waist, pressing you against the wall roughly. He grips his cock, sliding it up and down your folds and lightly dipping it in, “Ask nicely.”

You gasp against his mouth, “Asshole. Put it in.”

“That’s not so nice, baby.” he returns, dipping himself a little further before pulling out again, rubbing himself against you. You dig your nails into his shoulder, making him hiss against your lips, before giving in and whimpering, “Please.”

“That’s my girl.” he praises, sliding himself in fully and giving you a moment to adjust. The alcohol in your system only added to the experience, the feeling of him being almost too much to handle. It isn't until he reminds you to breathe that you realize you haven’t been, letting out the breath and relaxing against him as he begins to move inside you.

Lewd noises leave the both of you, him pressing his face against your neck as he breathes, “You’re so fucking good. You feel so fucking good.”

He slams into you harder, and you moan loudly, pressing your hand against your mouth to keep you quiet. He notices, and replaces your hand with his own as he brings his face to yours, the eye contact not breaking as he drives his cock further into you. The rhythm of him pounding into you becomes too much, and your walls tighten as come around him, your legs shaking at your strong release.

He groans, his breath fanning your face as he removes his hand from your mouth and placing it on your thigh. He halts his movements, grabbing both of your thighs to spread your legs until they’re pressed against the wall, holding you there as he pounds into you even harder. You moan loudly, and he kisses you to silence your sounds.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar pressure to build up again inside you, the coil in your stomach just begging to release itself. As you tighten, he bites your lip and tugs on it, “Don’t come until I tell you.”

You whimper pathetically, bucking your hips to drive him deeper into you as if that was even possible. He hits a spot inside that makes your eyes roll, and you move faster against him as he praises you, “Just like that baby. Keep moving- I’m gonna come.” 

Getting your second wind, you continue to meet his sloppy thrusts, and it's his turn to moan loudly as he looks at you, “Come with me. Come now.”

Relishing in his permission, you throw your head back against the wall as you bask in the waves of pleasure that shoot through you. This release was even stronger than the last, and you feel yourself making a mess around him as he pumps his seed into you, holding himself inside until his climax subsided. His head drops to your shoulder as you both catch your breath, both of your chests rising with each other. 

He lightly puts you down, holding there until you get your footing. He pulls his pants up silently, buckling them before leaning down to grab your panties from the floor. You hold your hand out to take them, but he slaps it away as he pushes the fabric into his pocket.

Before you can protest, he grabs your throat for the second time that night and pulls you to him, kissing you roughly. It’s over before it starts, him pushing you off and scanning you once more before turning and unlocking the door, leaving you in the bathroom with nothing but your thoughts.

Fuck.

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #rafe obx #outer banks

[joyokosuka]

Re: I loved him...And I betrayed him...

I have seen some people say “Ryuki’s ‘I loved him’ quote is ambiguous” or “Ryuki doesn’t mean romantic love because he used ‘suki,’” so I wanted to clear things up a bit…Please excuse the wall of text, but I hope this helps.

Ryuki’s line in the explosion end is as follows:

あんなに好きだった。。。伊達さんのことを。。。裏切ったんだ

Anna ni suki datta…Date-san no koto o…Uragittanda.

I’ll break it down by each part.

Anna ni: adverb meaning “to that extent, so much, that much, etc.”  Ryuki uses this to contrast his love for Date against the fact that he betrayed him.

Suki: This is loaded, so it will take a bit more explanation.  The common three ways you’ll hear someone confess “I love you” are suki, daisuki, and ai suru/shiteru/etc.  There is a misconception in English-speaking fandom that they are translated strictly in the following ways:

Suki: I like you (platonic)

Daisuki: I like you a lot (strong platonic)

Aishiteru: I love you (romantic)

This is not accurate. It is true that aishiteru is stronger than suki or daisuki, but they all can be romantic.   Suki (or daisuki, literally just a stronger version of suki) is what you would use to describe hobbies, food, etc., but it functions fine as a romantic confession as well.  In fact, it is the most common word to use when confessing one’s love to another person.  You can use it in a platonic sense…But that is much more common when saying you like a person’s attributes, i.e. “I suki you as a person” or “I suki your personality.”  (Name) ga suki is a very common, albeit casual, way to declare romantic love.  If intended platonically, it will come off strong and off-putting to the recipient. (Name) no koto ga suki is less casual, and more overtly romantic, but I will get to the nuances later.  It should be noted that, though Ryuki is technically acknowledging his love for Date to himself, rather than confessing directly to Date, the same word conventions apply.

As a side note - aishiteru is very rarely used in real-life relationships.  It is so strong to the point that, if used, it can raise alarm bells - “Why did you use aishiteru?  Are you okay?  Am I never going to see you again?”  You hear it more often in song and anime/manga, but that’s because it comes off as more “poetic,” and has a bit more potential for interlingual wordplay.

Datta: Literally “was.”  Suki functions as a noun in Japanese, although it is a verb in English.  Ryuki is using past tense here because:

He assumes Date is dead at this point

He is relating his feelings to a past event (his betrayal)

Date-san: Mr. Date.

No koto: This phrase doesn’t really exist in English, but the literal translation is “of a thing.”  That’s not super helpful, but it’s made clearer with the context.  No koto is used to refer to a person when you want to address all of their aspects.  In a simpler sense, you can view the nuance as (name) ga suki being “I love you” and (name) no koto ga suki being “I love everything about you,” though both can be appropriately translated as “I love you.”  The no koto generally makes the phrasing more romantic.

O: No real equivalent in English, but this just indicates that there is a verb (uragitanda) about to occur to a subject (Date-san).

Uragitanda: Betrayed.

So, to summarize…The sentence, at its most literal, could be something like “The person I loved so much, Mr. Date, I betrayed.”  However, it carries more of an implication of “How could I betray the person I love so much?”

I will be frank for clarity.  This is a blatantly and explicitly romantic line.  Suki datta Date-san already sounds fairly romantic, but the anna ni and no koto push it above plausible deniability.

This might be confusing to some English-speaking fans - if it is blatantly romantic, why hasn’t the team confirmed this?  The answer comes down to cultural differences in fandom.

I just want to put a quick note here that fandoms are not monoliths, and even a single country’s fandom will be extremely varied.  However, I did talk to several people raised in Japan/living in Japan to get their take on both the line and the following trends:

In English-speaking fandoms, there is a lot of talk about representation re: LGBT characters.  If characters are presented with coding, but aren’t explicitly LGBT, some may contact the creator directly to determine if they are interpreting a character correctly.  While some creators may offer direct confirmation, some may not.  Those that don’t can come across to LGBT fans as “not wanting to go all the way with LGBT characters” and like they are denying representation.  Thus, creators are often seen as the final say; the right interpretation for a character’s sexuality or gender.

In Japanese-speaking fandoms, there is less focus on using characters as a vehicle for LGBT representation.  More importantly, there is also a distinctly different creator-fan relationship.  There is much more focus to allow text to be text, and fans to have their own interpretations.  It can be seen as stifling and disrespectful to fans to overtly confirm a character’s sexuality or gender.  So any refusal to comment on a character’s status as LGBT is less of an inherent cop-out, and more of a sign of respect to fans.

In summary, yeah, this line is overtly romantic.  The text itself is enough to confirm it.

#ai the somnium files #nirvana initiative #ryuki kuruto #kuruto ryuki #ainispoilers #aini #aitsf #ai the somnium files nirvana initiative #aitsf2

[a-redharlequin]

Moodboard Commissions

Due to a lot of financial strain my family is under, I'm trying out doing things I love for a little money as much as I can and make ends meet.

Here's a few answers to some questions you might have!

What is a Moodboard?

A moodboard is a collage of images arranged in a pleasing fashion. It can be a general aesthetic or for a particular subject (like your favorite show, character, or ship!)

What can I use my Moodboard for?

When completed, you can choose to keep it all for yourself, post it with credit to myself, or I can post it for you (as long as it's allowed by tumblr guidelines). You can also post it on AO3 if it's for a fanfic, just give me a shout out! (AO3: TheRedHarlequin)

These moodboards will be for personal use ONLY. I do not own the images used in these moodboards. Though the majority will be royalty free, what I am actually selling is my labor, time, and aesthetic ability to customize something that makes you smile! If you want a commercial free moodboard, that is a separate conversation.

What can I request?

I accept almost ANY requests, including NSFW/Kink! I have extremely few hard nos and I will be upfront about them (scat and nsfw involving underage are the top two nos). I can skew NSFW that can pass the guidelines of tumblr for posting or I can make it full monty for just you and your friends' entertainment!

I found some cool art, can we use that?

Unless you have proof of explicit permission from the artist personally for the exact purpose of the board, I DO NOT use art from independent artists as it's a form of reposting.

What art I will use: widely recognized art studios (think Ghibli films), classical art (Mona Lisa, Van Gogh), scenes from a manga (Naruto, BNHA) and the like. Basically if you can look at something and go "Oh I know that!" then that's okay.

Faceclaims, Aesthetics, and References

Do you have an OC or TTRPG character you'd like a faceclaim and/or moodboard for? Would you like a collage you can give to your favorite artist to help them bring your character to life? Need references for that outfit or special something you want your artist to incorporate into that piece you've wanted done forever? I'm happy to help!

That all sounds fun! How much?

Simple: $6-$12

Large: $12-$25

Set of 3: $25 or $35

(Prices are negotiable but dictated by time & labor invested, see details)

Details: 

Simple moodboards

Boards of 9 or less still images, with minimal work required, would be around $6. (Additional hours, late requests, adjustments, custom words, photo editing, font selection, etc can raise the price from $6 up to $12)

Large moodboards

Boards of 10+ images and/or containing gifs, with all the bells and whistles. These can include very specific faceclaims or references as they take longer, are more involved, and I have to justify my time spent when I could make more doing something else. I will give you a quote depending how involved you want your commission but the expected range is $12 up to $25.

Set of 3:

If you commission three 9 still image moodboards as a set (for instance if you want moodboards of your ship, I can do one for each character and then one with them both), the price will be a flat $25. This includes lots of adjustments! 

For $35, I will do a set of 3 boards, each with 12 images, customizations and gifs will be included. You get the whole kit and caboodle X3!

I will do multiple check ins while the work is in progress to make sure you're getting an end result you are happy with!

Why do Gifs cost extra? 

Because they are much harder to balance properly. What that means is that gifs can easily clash or throw off an entire board if not coordinated carefully. They're just harder to work with and take a lot more time usually. But they're definitely worth it and can give any board that extra oomph!

Payment

Payments will be accepted through PayPal once commission is completed.

(I do accept payments in installments for large boards and sets, but it must be paid in full within 30 days of completion of the commission.)

If you would like examples of my previous boards, please just send a DM!

Commissions Are Open!

Slots 1, 2, and 3 are currently open.

#moodboards #mood boards #moodboard #aesthetic #aesthetic board #collage #commission #coldflash #the flash #fandom #k i n k #legends of tomorrow

[wineonmytshirt]

thank you so much for the tag @blushingallthewayhome & @taylorswiftaylor this is fun!!!!!

RULES: Put your playlist on shuffle. For each of the 10 interview questions, select a lyric from the random song that comes up. (Skip if there aren’t any lyrics and make sure to drop the name of the song in your interview answer!)

1. First off, how would you describe yourself in one sentence?

Stay unfiltered and loud, you'll be proud of that skin full of scars - All I Know So Far by P!nk

2. What kind of [insert my super secret zodiac sign] are you?

And I swear to God I'd kill you if I loved you less hard - I should hate you by Gracie Abrams

3. You’re visiting your favorite spot, what are you thinking about?

Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place - All Too Well by Taylor Swift

4. If your life was a movie, what do you think the first review would say about it?

One step, not much, but it said enough - You Are In Love by Taylor Swift

5. Say you get a book deal, what are you titling your memoir?

All of this is temporary - Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey

6. What would you say about your best friends?

I don't wanna dance if I'm not dancing with you - Holy Ground by Taylor Swift

7. Think back to when you had everything all figured out in high school, what was your life motto as a teenager?

I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying - this is me trying by Taylor Swift

8. Describe your aesthetic now:

I'll never go, I just want to be invited - Love From The Other Side by Fall Out Boy

9. What’s a lyric that they’ll quote in your eulogy?

She had a marvelous time ruining everything - the last great american dynasty by Taylor Swift

10. And for our final question, say we believe in soulmates, what do you think their first impression of meeting you will be?

I need you to trust me, go easy, don't rush me - Never Gonna Leave This Bed by Maroon 5

tagging if you'd like to do this!: @notesonartistry @suburbanlegnd @aslowmotionlovepotion @maryssongwhen @actual-sleeping-beauty @margaetyrell @ketterdam-snack-bar @nicholas-nelsons @dorotheado @woulddoanythingfor1989tv @1989tv xo

#tag games #about jen

[silvery-bluish]

9 13 and 23 for ars? 👀👀

Questions from here!

Of Course!!! Thanks for the ask Jazz :)

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

hooo do I. Many. I'll just grab a couple, though, and more Arsinoe-specific ones not relationship ones.

From Mary Oliver's Moments, "There is nothing more pathetic than caution/ when headlong might save a life,/ even, possibly, your own." which is where I snagged the series name for their fics I've posted to Ao3. Something about the holding your breath scared out of your mind taking the plunge anyway, y'know.

And I'll just do one song (but i have MANY) for the Anarchist Energy of it all and overall one of the most upbeat things in my playlist for them, Atlas Drowned, Gang of Youths. "I don't care what it says, this is my goddamned place/I'm a traitor to country and glad, 'cause my country's disgraced." "To you bells in the curve, I will love you but love not the powers you serve/Do not grow complacent or take less than what you deserve."

13. If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

Man. I. Honestly, they'd probably just blatantly ignore my existence t b h. They lean really hard into Not Giving A Damn about a specific person or Caring Extremely, Arsinoe Would Now Die For You (or Personal Enmity Forever) and I'm not sure what I, Bookish, would do to actually get their attention. I don't think they'd hate my guts though!! we could maybe bond over coffee and (some) tech shit, idk. or we'd get stuck in the Introvert Neither Of Us Knows How To Start A Conversation Loop.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

Is. Is all of them an acceptable answer? Arsinoe tends to get caught in a loop of 'this specific word does not quite entirely define the emotion that is all tangled up in my chest and ALL the words are slightly wrong.' Defining it aside, I think they find their own anger the hardest to process. It's easier to displace it to anger on someone else's behalf, instead of dealing with and examining the things that have happened to THEM that make them angry.

They've got. Issues, expressing vulnerability and affection and sadness and anger and-- well. Etc. Showing emotion means showing weakness and they're not a good actor but they can pull off a decent poker face so that's as good a mask as anything, probably, but it does mean they tend to bottle Everything up. And Open Affection in particular is Real Hard, especially with Ricardo (for can't read his mind reasons) because it's letting themself be seen, with the danger that comes with it. They try anyway, sometimes.

#arsinoe #thank u for the ask <3 #ive got Many Many songs in my playlist

[bettsfic]

craft essay a day #5

my response to this one maybe derailed a little.

"On Imagination" by Mary Ruefle

beginner | intermediate | advanced | masterclass 

filed under: process, poetry

summary

first i must describe to you the physical object that is this essay:

it is a chapbook (published by Sarabande Books, an indie poetry press i really admire), which means it is more or less a staple-bound pamphlet. there is a goat on the cover. inside, on each even-numbered page, is a picture: an ocean wave, a lettuce leaf, the night sky, a bed, 3 fish, a bird in a tree, a pie, 4 dyed eggs, a human ribcage, grass, trees, a slug, and the goat that is on the cover, whose presence permeates the essay.

on the back of the chapbook, instead of blurbs, there is a quote in very small font:

"My imagination was roaming at sunset and placed his bare foot on a blade of withered grass, which ran into it like a thorny needle, and injured him."

this quote appears not to be attributed, which makes me think i should know what it's from, and i don't.

Ruefle has a collection of essays called Madness, Rack, & Honey (published by Wave Books, another great poetry press) which is one of my favorite craft books and i highly recommend it. it'll be a while before i summarize the chapters, though, since i only recently finished reading it.

i've been lucky enough to attend several of her lectures, and although i got a lot out of them, when i go back and look at my notes, they are utterly indecipherable:

partly this is because, as you can see, my handwriting is not legible. but it's also partly because this particular lecture was kinda bonkers. i've been waiting for her to publish it in written form but i don't think she has yet. "Hell's Bells" is my second favorite of her lectures (Ruefle's lectures and essays are one and the same), my favorite being "On Fear" which i'm sure i'll write about in a future post.

still laughing at "does the artist...become time?" with the star beside it (which in my notes always indicates an Action Item, so in 2018 i clearly intended to Do Something about becoming time). also "put a hole in meaning - give space, aerate?" then in pink, "(how?)" i also apparently intended to Do Something about "Beginning of universe was striking of tremendous bell."

another lecture of hers i attended was a recreation of John Cage's "Lecture on Nothing," and i am ashamed to say that it took me so, so long to realize it was literally a lecture on nothing. i wrote like 3 pages of notes and about a half hour in, i flipped through the pages and realized literally nothing of substance was being said. and i was furious. like, why am i wasting my time here? and i realized i was supposed to be having a reaction to it, and thinking about the nature of the concept of a lecture at a creative writing workshop, and what am i even doing here, etc.

in retrospect, that spoke well to the "Hell's Bells" lecture, which, for me, was all about how listening is sometimes just about hearing, and not trying to make meaning of all that we hear. as someone with an audio processing problem who has to attend a lot of readings and can't understand a word of them, it made me feel a lot better. like i could attend a reading just to appreciate the voice of the writer (which Ruefle likened to a bell), and not what's being said.

at the end of the lecture on nothing, Ruefle took questions, and responded to each of them with the answers provided in the original lecture. it was quite a time.

back to "On Imagination."

in any Ruefle essay/lecture, there is not much to summarize because they function more or less as poems: each is a series of thoughts or anecdotes on a general topic, and never firmly declare their point. however, on the first page, she does make a pretty big declaration:

"I am going to tell you now, before I begin, what my conclusion is to my thoughts on the imagination: I believe there is no difference between thinking and imagining, and that they are one."

to me, that's the kind of statement that's so simple it seems almost meaningless, but i know if i consider it long enough, i'll reach a deeper conclusion about it. since i finished reading this essay 37 minutes ago, i have no such deeper conclusion as of yet.

i appreciate that on page one, she also points out that thought is only ever an interpretation of reality, and words exist only to conjure meaning in the imagination. when a person says the word "tree" to another person, the recipient of that word can mentally conclude or conjure the object that is a tree. we can always refer to a tree, but in speaking it or thinking it, it does not become real.

she declares that imagination is not necessarily good; imagining things can hurt us as equally as help us, and we don't really have control of it.

"...the imagination has its own life and its own autonomy, the imagination is not what you play with, the imagination plays with you."

she introduces an anecdote in which a poet, after a reading, is asked, "is that a real poem, or did you make it up?" and concludes her point with a fact that punched me right in the face:

"Real things are made things."

she goes on to talk about an elementary school reading primer from 1880, Ukranian dyed eggs, Johnny Cash, a misinterpretation of the bible by Keats, and a goat in Emily Dickenson's attic. each of these, somehow, connect and make sense, yet i cannot attempt to do so in a (not so) brief summary.

"Imagination, deep in each of us, can give us what we need and want, that which we dream of, the reality of love and communion, help in our tired loneliness."

yeah :(

she notes that many believe some people have more imagination than others, and that's why there are artists and not-artists, but she claims we all have the same amount of imagination; it's just that some of us don't discriminate between "imaginative and unimaginative acts" and that paying close attention to the mundane "paradoxically opens a new door to the imaginative."

i am having trouble figuring out how the end of the essay is about imagination. she talks about how, in her old age, she feels isolated in her interests, and that because she has a limited future, she's only motivated to dwell in the present.

"All I can tell you is that at long last I am myself and free, even if isolated, and I am happy when I want to be and sad when I feel like it, and about the only thing that troubles me is knowing how many people on earth do not have that privilege...and to these I bow and for these I pray."

my thoughts

this got kind of personal, so i'm putting it under a cut.

i rated this essay advanced, not because i think it's hard to understand, but that it goes beyond the work of beginner and intermediate essays, which focus primarily on mechanics and concepts and how to get the work down on paper. this essay makes no real claim about writing, and i imagine wouldn't help anyone looking for advice on how to write.

a few days ago i wrote about Smiley's introduction in 13 Ways to Look at the Novel. that, coupled with the Ruefle essay, have fucked me up a little. in Smiley's intro, she talks about how she always had one foot in the fictional worlds of her novels at the cost of her presence in reality. in Ruefle's essay, she talks about the uncontrollability of imagination. i've never considered myself a creative person; i think in expected patterns and can't really devise anything truly novel. that's why i consider myself more a teacher than a writer--i'm better at fostering creativity in others than developing it in myself. i am, however, an imaginative person. i never stop imagining. i'm so imaginative that existing in reality is sometimes unbearable. even things that make me happy--seeing my family, hanging out with friends, reading a book--come second to dwelling (drowning?) in my imagination. i have to pry myself away to go do those things. when i'm really into something i'm working on, i can write over 10k in a day. i can write from the second i wake up at 9am to the moment, usually at 3am or so, my brain can no longer make clear sentences, stopping only throughout to eat a spoonful of peanut butter and maybe reply to a text.

these are the kinds of days i live for. they make me truly happy. and yet there's such an enormous cost to them: i'm beginning to have hand problems, and i have so little control of writing that i can't force myself to stop and let it heal (i did upgrade to an ergonomic keyboard and mouse but they're not helping as much as i'd hoped); i'm no nutritionist, but i'm pretty sure 3 tablespoons of peanut butter a day and walking fewer than 100 steps is not particularly healthy; and big picture, i want to get married and have kids, and that's not going to happen if i'm spending all my time in my imagination with fictional characters getting married and having kids. and if i somehow against all odds do get married and have kids, will i be able to be fully present with them, or will i always in the state i am now, counting down the seconds when i can escape reality and return to the peace of my own head?

i think this is a conflict i'll always have, because ultimately i'm writing work i'm proud of to an audience that (i hope) appreciates it. writing and being read is the greatest privilege i can imagine. but i'm also always thinking about my dad, who died at 59 after enduring years of agonizing pain and a lifetime of trauma and depression, and how he never got to do a fraction of the things he wanted. i imagine myself at the same age less than 30 years from now with the same fate, if i am even so lucky to make it to that far. i'm in this between space of the hopefulness of being young, of the gross entitlement of believing things will keep getting better for me; and the hopelessness of ptsd, the kernel of doubt that remains even after so long in recovery, that joy and success are never owed to me. rationally i know both of these to be true, that there will be some good and some bad, and whatever happens will never turn out as i expect. and yet that doesn't abate the conflict or quell the fear that the conflict creates.

it is probably a bad idea to write about my deepest fears and insecurities on a blog with thousands of followers. it's easy to be misinterpreted and taken out of context. honesty is totally antithetical to branding or gaining a following. and yet i think i'd rather be known than not. i think i'd always prefer to take a risk in the hope of being understood.

i'm sorry i have no conclusions or advice or anything helpful to say here. but imagination is a big thing. it's the biggest thing. in allowing us the power to interpret and create, it might be the only thing.

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#cead #process #poetry