#Well i guess this is the whole point of being in this cringe website

[ma-mariarie243]

im going to cry

#No one can stop my brain #Not even me #😔 #dream catcher len #Yeah thats his tag now #vocaloid #kagamine len #Well i guess this is the whole point of being in this cringe website #Sharing my weird vocaloid au i made #I may or may not lock marene in the closet to write something about dream catcher because #Ssjsjsjsjjsjsjsjjsjsjsjjsjsjsjsjjsjsjsjsjs #my art #Yeah this is also related to that other post i made a while ago #And by that i mean yesterday #But still

[mitziholder]

apologies for being weird and hogging your inbox like this but i LOVE your thoughts on fandom and i think very few people talk about it in a critical way without completely condemning the entire occupation. in my experience people (not just on this website but in general) tend to take a very black and white view of fandom/fic, probably because it can feel like a very personal thing for many; either they're 'normies' who think all fanworks are 'cringe' or they're the anything goes kind of person. radfems seem to me to be the only ppl who aren't overly defensive of the enterprise but can still enjoy fanworks critically. its nice to see women who aren't like. Fandom Moms talking about these things at length. i think you're one of the few people i've agreed with regarding this subject so far :/ your analyses are very much appreciated and i'd love to read more of what you think (especially regarding the point about navigating trauma). have a good day!

oh and also regarding the whole 'i want women to read better thing' ive always felt this idea that fandom culture is above criticism (or criticising it is inherently misogynistic) is in some ways an extension or at least related to the societal notion that women should be confined to the fluffy feeling aspects of writing and art and aren't as capable of intellectually engaging with things (and of course some 'criticisms' of fan culture ARE misogynistic but i'm not referring to those atm). and obviously there isn't anything inherently WRONG with silly fluff novels or romance (especially romance of course as one can certainly explore that subject in depth and i actually think there's a lack of well written romance out there) but it still feels like a limitation on female growth to normalise women ONLY reading fanfiction or even only certain brands of genre fiction i guess? and i find it sad that so many women seem to almost buy into that idea nowadays or shoot down any sort of criticism with the 'stop shaming female desire' catchphrase. and considering that there is still a dearth of well made original female work for women in pop culture (that act as cultural touchstones in the same way a lot of male works do) it's even more depressing that a lot of fanwork centers men. sorry if this comes off as insufferably pretentious lmao! i'm not even against fanwork i mean this is tumblr i still enjoy things but hopefully you know what i mean lol

like i mean. there's a reason why fanfiction is seen as primarily a female affair (even though a lot of the highly regarded published fanfics are by men. u know the neil gaiman stuff or whatever). its sort of a reassurance that women are 'limited' to writing fanworks. idk. i guess i want women to do better idk if im making any sense

ok, mandatory disclaimer that what I’m describing here is a series of trends, trends I’ve observed within fandom at large including both fanfiction readers/writers and fujos more broadly. obviously, not everyone who reads fanfic or yaoi is a woman (though the vast majority are). obviously, not every woman who reads fanfic or yaoi is a stunted teenager who refuses to engage with any other media. I will also admit that not every fanfic is jimin ABO. I don’t think that fanfic is inherently cringe or low-quality, and there are certainly a lot of respectable published works that have been created with other people’s characters or settings. but, as I’ve said, the vast majority of fanworks in the modern day are essentially pornographic mad libs. I find that disappointing. and there’s no reason it has to be this way… except for all the reasons I’ve outlined in my other posts.

things that are lazy and thoughtless and easy, that provide instant gratification, are generally more popular than things that are difficult or uncomfortable. clearly. but people who denounce all fanfic/fanfic writers and pigeonhole it as low-effort slop are not actually interested in helping the women who write it achieve their fullest potential, because they do not believe those women have any potential. it’s true that some criticisms of fan culture and fanworks are purely misogynistic… but I care about women’s voices, and I do want women to be able to express themselves. I’m not on a quest to stop women from writing or reading fanfic. I’ve been slightly flip about the subject, but truthfully, not everything that is “derivative” is bad, and there’s no reason that fanworks couldn’t be good. it’s just that the culture around them is so intensely sensitive - anti-“shaming” - that women are terrified of saying anything about the level of quality or the potentially harmful nature of most fanfiction because they don’t want to devalue media created by and for other women.

I think that’s a disservice to women as a whole. not everything we write is valuable. I’ve written plenty of crap in the pursuit of getting better - plenty of crap I currently disagree with. and if our work can’t withstand criticism - if we shut down immediately at any hint of a deeper, more unflattering analysis of what’s really going on… then what’s the point? what are we communicating? that female fantasies exist in a compartmentalized bubble far and away from our politics and intellectual pursuits? that we should be able to j/o to rape fantasies without question because it’s not that serious? that the personal is political, except for when it isn’t… and we should all be quiet and let women write whatever they want free of criticism lest we shame them so hard they go into hiding? my standards might be a tad high, but that is setting the bar… dangerously low. it’s also patronizing. since when has “just let women enjoy things!!” ever gotten us anywhere? since when has that been a cornerstone of feminist thought? is that really the best we can do? are we really so fragile?

I’ve seen a glut of posts about how useless and harmful constructive criticism supposedly is. the reasoning is always basically the same:

criticism is mean/toxic/discouraging

maybe I’m too hardened by countless death wishes I got on my old blog, but, in my experience, whenever I have something I want to say or a point I want to make, very little can keep me from doing so. I can’t imagine being so bothered by what random Internet people think. it’s important to remember that being able to determine what criticism is valuable is a skill in itself. disavowing criticism as a whole because some of it is “toxic”/discouraging is throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

criticism is pointless; perfection is unattainable

of course nothing is ever going to be perfect. but if that’s your attitude, why bother editing? (rhetorical question. some fanfic authors do post unedited works… just because they can.) hell, why write? why get up in the morning? why make your bed? why try anything new at all? it’s a completely absurd, defeatist attitude. like the first point, it also reeks of intellectual laziness and self-satisfaction.

you could just be nice and say what you liked instead because that’s helpful too

please don’t blow smoke up my ass. in editing, I want to fix things that don’t work and to trim the fat. is it “kind” or “helpful” to let me do something completely stupid because you’re too afraid of embarrassing or offending me to say as much? also, knowing what people like is useful in producing more of what people like - it doesn’t help me do anything new or different. there is nothing less helpful to me than saying “good job!” when I ask you to read my work. it’s certainly nice (as long as you actually read it), but it’s not helpful.

it’s published, the author is through with it, and they don’t want to touch it anymore

I plan to do everything I can to edit and improve my writing before the thing is drawn and published, but I’m sure some flaws will inevitably slip through the cracks. currently, I’m rewriting entire chapters from the beginning because they became incompatible with what I wanted out of the series as it progressed. considering that a lot of people write fanfic on a chapter-by-chapter basis with only a very vague trope-strung outline, I have to wonder why they’re so averse to major overhauls. sure, it’s not pleasant, but don’t you want your writing to be the best that it can be? what is the purpose of uploading it if you don’t want the thing to be responded to as it is, warts and all?

also, not all criticism is limited to the specific work it’s derived from; many things can be extrapolated to future works as well. how are we supposed to correct trends that could lead to a decrease in the quality of future works if we can’t even point them out?

fanfiction is a hobby, and hobbies should be fun

I’m not under the impression that I’ll ever be able to make a living from my writing. I do it as a “hobby” in my spare time simply for the fact that I need an outlet for my thoughts - I need to organize them in some way. writing is an art form that we use to communicate meaning and to make sense of the world around us. your goal as a writer may be to have fun, but it isn’t mine. overgeneralizing and building an entire subculture around the pursuit of mindless fun limits what fanfiction and amateur writing have the potential to be.

you could just go read something else that you like more

actually, no. I don’t like any of it. I’m sorry if saying that is offensive to the 38-year-old she/they whose blog post I grabbed this from. most fanfic is bad. I yearn for the exploration of topics that are categorically not explored in fanfic - because the scope of what fanfic is interested in is constantly narrowing, feeding on itself, like an ouroboros. this problem is only going to get worse over time. why wouldn’t I be bothered? why can’t I say it’s a shame?

mass media and tiktok are worse!

maybe, but so what? at least the majority of people who spend their time watching tiktok videos and bad TV don’t act like it’s a suitable replacement for real literature. and at least there aren’t tiktok compilations being listed on goodreads(?)

anyway, more to the point, fandom is full of technically competent writers. but if they continue to insulate themselves within fandom or fandom-adjacent offshoots, they will never be great writers, because great writing requires tight editing (the elimination of things that are pointless and redundant), syntactic fluency, organizational skills, and, most importantly, an individual voice - an artistic vision - interpreting individual ideas… things that are born of criticism and a diversity of influences that are not present or valued within fandom in its current state. great writing cannot be made in a vacuum. great writers don’t allow themselves to be broken or stifled by criticism they disagree with.

sure, no one has a responsibility to be a great writer, and mediocre writing isn’t a moral failure… but I’m certainly not going to be happy about it, especially when the prevailing attitude is “fanfic is art… but I make what I want for myself and sharing it with you is a privilege and therefore you can’t criticize it!” how boring! how utterly conceited! my god. throwing a temper tantrum because you’re not 100% in control of how others perceive or respond to your creation. put it in a diary and not on a public forum if that bothers you so much… (but then, of course, you couldn’t count kudos.)

I do have a plan to touch on some of my other gripes since you asked so nicely. but this response is, once again, getting too long, and those things have little to do with what I was complaining about here. I’ve got an outline for a post I’ll develop and publish later as a final note on this convo, since at that point I really will have said all that I have to say… thanks again for writing in :-)

#ask #i'm being flip again. there are a few fanfictions that i've enjoyed #but they were gen + about female characters (EXTREME RARITY LOOOL)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

The Video

Alrighty, so as promised, I listened-slash-watched-slash-backtracked the video over making and eating dinner, with a break in between to take a phone call from my sister, so I may have missed and misunderstood/misheard a few things and may need another rewatch to fix any presumptions I make in this mini (?)-review.

Two things I do need to correct from my last post:

One is that I actually was sent the video to pre-watch before it was posted; I found it in my emails two days later but because I was swamped with day job stuff (as in I was working until 11 PM both days, and I didn’t even sit down until 4 on Saturday), and my fandom email is NOT a primary address so it’s not hooked up to my main Mail server on my MacBook (limited space), I hadn’t checked my emails since Thursday afternoon. So yeah, technically I should’ve known it was out, so apologies: technically I knew it was coming out; my sorry arse just didn’t check my emails.

Second, is that meta I did send her did get referenced and used; some of it word for word (like the discussion about the difference between Johnlockers and TJLC) so meta was read, my bad on assuming it wasn’t before watching.

C’est ça on that front.

A few things that ruffled my feathers and maybe I misheard, but I’ll mention them as I remember it:

I did find it slightly bothersome that the assumption was that Johnlockers that we were a bunch of teenagers (we weren’t – most of the people I talked to were in their 20′s and 30′s and many were academics of varying sorts). SZ was younger than many of us in our little corner of the fandom, I think, and it was filled with amazing meta and university-level papers on queer history, ACD canon history, subtextual writing and literature.  EDIT: I did skim back over to a bit of the beginning since I missed it over making dinner, and I guess a lot of the people who contacted SZ were teens at the time of the airdate, so again, my little bubble and all that and apologies for assuming. :P

This is a totally biased view and probably indicative of how deep down the rabbit hole I was: A bit annoyed at the implication in our belief that Mofftiss weren’t trying to deliberately imply the Gay Sherlock / BiJohn thing especially paying special attention to it during Q&As and meet and greets and interviews; That the cues weren’t there. Though she did point out the queerbaiting aspect of it. I don’t know. Maybe I misunderstood since I was stuffing my gob with pasta and wishing I had a cheesecake.

I think SZ should’ve worded her Twitter callout post a LOT better, because the cons were only mentioned for about 10 minutes, and in only in relation to the drama. She did praise the cons as a positive experience for people, so I’ll give her that.

The Twitter stuff pre-vid-posting still rubs me the wrong way.

Still feel that selling the shirts is tasteless. Mug is cute, though.

Things I did find interesting / good / stuff I didn’t know:

I know I’m a minority in this regard, especially since I am a fence sitter, but I feel... relieved? sorry I can’t think of the word... that SZ essentially did accuse Mofftiss of queerbaiting by the end of it – that it’s not just us who see it. I’ve always said without an S5, it IS queerbaiting, and given that S5 probably won’t happen anytime soon... well. Like I’ve said in the past, I hold out a glimmer of hope. Not holding my breath though.

The mentions of some of the fandom theories and speculations were done tastefully, light jesting but not mocking them.

The discussion section about AA / Mary... Yikes. I forgot it got THAT bad.... I guess because I was always in the “Mary’s a kickass villain” camp so I was blissfully ignorant about that stuff until a few years later. 

The ace stuff, 100% true, and I’m glad it was brought up.

The term “Ragnalock” got a chuckle out of me, will admit that. First time I’ve heard of it.

I had no idea the ARG theory was anything more than thelostspecial website. Somehow I missed that whole thing about it being part of the series itself.

And, a lot of things, in hindsight: just an overall, “yeah. :|”

And some additional notes I can’t really classify one way or another:

Cringing at MYSELF because of some of the post-S4 theories that, looking back: oof. Apple Tree Yard specifically. 

AND cringing at myself because I know I perpetuated a lot of the “IT WILL HAPPEN” in my corner of the fandom pre-S4 because I wanted people to be excited for a new season. For that I am very sorry to everyone who were hurt by my belief. S4 was a brick wall and I hit it hard, thought I do enjoy theorizing about how fake it was. It’s the only way to cope for me, LOL.

Ooof the drama stuff, a lot of it I didn’t know the entire deets about, only about the PPG being involved. I tried to stay out of it when I could and focused mainly on meta writing, my own healing processes, and making people feel welcome. It’s what a few bigger bloggers did for me when I joined by interacting with my posts and offering their kindness, and I wanted to return the favour. Inevitable it had to be covered, but yeah, dark times.

LOOOOOOOL the critique about TFP. Literally stuff that we’ve talked about in our “something’s fucky” tag. 

And to address the elephant in the room: Yes, I DID give SZ meta, but it was the link to fandom meta that is essentially on the header of my blog on desktop, just as I do with anyone interested in the fandom.

Overall, it was a thought provoking vid, a bit of a nostalgia hit to be honest. I thought that it was a good video, interesting in that strange way where you relive strange moments of your past. I feel it was a fair analysis of the fandom, but please, please remember: I can’t speak for those directly involved in the events mentioned, because I WAS NOT THERE. Not my place to disregard their feelings if they have a different opinion than I. 

That said, I think it’s worth a watch if only to see what the fandom WAS. But it’s informative and respectful, I think. Though, I think she could’ve left out the bit at the end just before the credits.

And finally: to anyone who are coming here from the vid: I have been here since S3, joined because of LSiT, and later I wrote villain Mary meta and TAB meta. These days, I primarily have focussed my attentions on curating content, offering my advice on stuff, introducing newbies to the series, and trying to spread positivity, all peppered in with the random theory from time to time, and trying to atone for my... “enthusiasm”?... in the past. I like promoting community and open discussion from all viewpoints, as long as it remains respectful. So yeah, I do have some meta you can check out, just let me know what you’re looking for, and I do lots of fic recs, so if you’re looking for something, hit me up.

Cheers, all. I’m going to bed. 

#my thoughts #sarah z #johnlock videos #reviews

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

Hello if you're not comfortable doing this please ignore - but how would the brothers from obey me react if they found mc self harming?

CW: Mention and discussion of self harm.

Heads up: I’m not an Expert on this - I know a bit about what it’s like, but let’s just say it’s not the typical horizontal scars (or even super visible longterm at all), so I don’t know much about things like that. Nor do I know what the proper protocol is if you find someone self-harming, so please don’t take this as any kind of advice. (Plus even if I knew Exactly what it is you’re supposed to do, this is the brothers’ reactions: they’re not gonna be experts either, certainly not on the fly with someone so close to them)

I repeat: I’m not an expert and this should not be taken as advice.

If you’re struggling with self harm or suicidal ideation, please consider taking a look at some of these websites/numbers.

I know it can be rough, but trust me, the pros of staying here and taking care of yourself outweigh the cons.

Obey Me: The Brothers Find MC Self Harming

Lucifer

Protective Older Brother Mode™ Engaged. His more immediate concern is stopping them from continuing, especially if it looks like they’re at risk of dying or seriously damaging themself. Any lighter/blade/etc. is getting taken out of their hands asap. He might hurt them a little bit if they resist, more from the sheer difference in strength than anything else.

Next step is cleaning and bandaging any wounds they have. His first instinct is the bathroom, but if they (quite understandably) don’t want to walk around the House of Lamentation with their self-harm injuries out, he’ll go get them and bring them back to their room (keeping whatever implement they were using on him, of course).

Despite his initial urgency, he’s very careful when dressing their injuries. Once that’s taken care of, he’ll ask them point-blank why they were doing what they were doing. He’s not stupid, he knows they were self-harming the second he found them, but he wants to hear their explanation.

Whether or not they tell him, he’s still tense like a live wire is running through him: he’s used to his brothers getting hurt because of recklessness or war injuries rip, but someone deliberately hurting themselves for no apparent reason is a little out of his wheelhouse. He doesn’t want to upset the MC further, but he also can’t allow this behaviour to continue.

In the end, the two reach a compromise: whenever they feel like hurting themself, they’ll let him know, and he’ll keep them company and try and take their mind off it until the urge passes.

And if they relapse, he’ll help them with tending to the wounds.

Mammon

Mammon’s… probably one of the worst to catch MC self-harming tbh, in terms of keeping his cool. In the panic of seeing blood or burns, he might not even connect the dots right away and think they’d been attacked by something. But if he sees the MC holding what they’ve been using to hurt themselves…

It’s like a bucket of cold water was dropped on him. He’s horrified, he’s furious - not with them, but in a more cosmic sense that being powerless can cause - he’s yelling; what are you doing, how could you, how long, how did he not notice how his human was feeling-?!

He suddenly pulls the MC in for a hug, and they can feel his tears on their back. Every single time he’s called them a stupid, weak human is running through his mind like a sick movie, and there’s a part of him that thinks it’s his fault that MC feels so terribly about themself that they’d do this.

He’s not good at first aid, but by god (or Diavolo, I guess?) he tries to wrap up MC’s wounds. It doesn’t help that he’s still quite shaky, but in the end they have a thick, sloppily wrapped layer of gauze on their injuries.

For a little while after, he’ll be even more clingy than usual, refusing to leave the MC’s side unless absolutely necessary. If the attention is suffocating, they’ll have to let him know, and reassure him that they won’t hurt themself while he’s gone for it to subside even a little bit. His tsundere act drops a fair bit too. He’ll still boast about being the GREAT Mammon, but any digs at them are extremely rare and even more tentative (they’d have to have another chat with him if this difference in treatment bothered them).

If the MC wanted to keep it a secret from the other brothers, Mammon would try and respect that, but he’ll inevitably ask one of them for help and they’ll figure out something is up pretty quick. Maybe not with MC specifically, but there is a strong suspicion. If they did figure it out, he’d make them swear not to tell MC or treat them differently: he doesn’t want them to feel worse.

Leviathan

Levi is no stranger to issues of self-esteem, but this is another level for him. He’d kind of freeze on the spot for a moment, unsure of what to do; social skills aren’t his forte in the best of circumstances and this… even if he wasn’t a shut-in, he’s not sure how he’d handle this.

He squeaked out the MC’s name when he first entered their room, and they’re now locked in a grim staring contest. If they don’t move or say anything, he’ll slowly close the door and approach them. If they flinch away, he’ll cringe and briefly panic, but steel himself and stick around. MC’s his best friend, and they need him right now.

Hey… he says. It’s okay… Well, it’s actually super extremely not okay, but I’m not mad or anything, you know? Pause. I… I never thought someone like you would do this. You’re so brave, and cool, and smart, and… you see something in a yucky otaku like me. You helped me be - you’re my best friend, alright? You’re an amazing, strong person, and don’t you forget it!

The Avatar of Envy knows that emotions can make one do irrational things, and he wants MC to know that he doesn’t think any less of them for this. When they’re all bandaged up, he pulls out a roll of TSL or Ruri-chan themed stickers and practically covers MC’s dressings in them. Then he does the same to himself, so if anyone sees and asks about it, he’ll say it’s just a friend thing they did together.

Levi still has a tendency to stay in his room more often than not, but now makes a point to check up on MC every so often, usually when they get home from school or at night. If they seem down or tell him they’re having thoughts of hurting themself again, he’ll invite them to play a no-stress game with him or watch some lighthearted anime. He’ll also avoid anything that could trigger you in your normal binge-watching sessions.

Satan

Satan doesn’t trust himself to move or even speak when he finds MC self-harming. He’s scared; scared that they’ll go too far, scared that he’ll say the wrong thing, scared that he’ll hurt them further if he slips up and snaps at them, scared to move.

Move, he thinks to himself, do something.

Without a word, he goes and grabs some first aid supplies. If anyone asks him what he’s doing or tries to bother him about something else, he’ll snap at them; he’s frazzled enough that he might even slip into his demon form.

This will sting, but it’s a good disinfectant. Good, focus on what he’s doing. It’s concrete, he knows this. Once MC is taken care of, he reluctantly asks them how long they’ve been doing this. Where they keep their supplies. How often.

He won’t ask why. He knows how it feels to want to destroy something so much you’ll turn on yourself.

If they’re comfortable with it, he’ll do everything he can to help. Harm reduction methods, finding alternative activities, keep MC distracted when they’re not feeling well, help them “ride the wave” (where whenever you feel the urge to self harm, you stop and wait 15 minutes - if you still feel that way, wait another 15, until it passes), anything to help them. Either way, he’s reading up on all he can about self-harm and how to help someone struggling with it.

He’ll do a lot of the alternate activities with MC so they don’t feel weird about doing it alone. Asmo once asked them what the hell they were doing holding ice cubes in their mouths and Satan’s response was to spit his out at his brother at a velocity that left a dent in the wall. He’ll also ask if they want to join him on his walks.

Also, because you’ll take the headcanon that Satan volunteers at the devildom equivalent of the SPCA out of my cold, dead hands, pet therapy! Provided MC isn’t allergic/doesn’t have an issue with cats, he’ll invite them to come with him and meet and pet the cats. It’s very hard to feel any sort of negative emotion when surrounded by cats, after all.

Asmodeus

Oh. This is why MC was so reluctant to let him dress them up.

Asmo has enough self esteem to rival the entirety of Hollywood’s divas, but he loves MC just as much, if not more, than himself. It breaks his heart to know that they don’t feel the same way about themselves.

He can’t charm them, but that doesn’t stop him from gently trying to coax them to put down the implement they’re using to hurt themself. Once he has it, he goes to get first aid supplies. MC hears a particularly loud THUNK as something is whipped into the garbage with uncharacteristic aggression.

Asmo will carefully and gently patch them up, finishing his handiwork with soft kisses on top of everywhere that was injured. He wants MC to know that they’re loved, and important, and that this doesn’t change any of that.

If they have scars that they want to cover up, he’ll at first encourage them to be proud of their battle scars, but if they really don’t want others to see them, he’ll create a whole new wardrobe for MC that is both stylish and covers up what they’d like to keep hidden. He almost certainly has knowledge of and access to all sorts of skincare products that can help scars heal and fade, if MC would like that.

For every time he has something nice to say about himself, he will say something nice about MC too. In fact, MC will find that Asmo is always offering them spa trips, to come to this or that party, to check out the latest sale at Majolish... If ever they need something to distract them, Asmo is there.

They’ll find little notes in elegant cursive hidden all over their room. Sometimes they’re compliments, or flirty puns related to where the note is. Other times they’re gentle reminders -messages like don’t forget to take your medicine! and stay hydrated for you and your skin! line the bathroom mirror.

One way or another, Asmo won’t let MC forget that even if they don’t feel good about themself, someone else sure does.

Beelzebub

Beel already has a history with losing loved ones, and like Lucifer, panics a bit upon finding MC self-harming. He’ll quickly get rid of whatever it is they’re using to hurt themself, and MC will have a hard time trying to stop him. Expect lots of tears and hugs as he helps them get cleaned up.

He asks MC why they’d ever want to do that to themself. Do they not want to live? Do they think no one would care? Because Beel absolutely cares and very much wants them to live.

MC has now acquired one (1) Self-Care-Maintenance Demon. Beelzebub refuses to let them neglect themself in any way: no skipping meals, no missing schoolwork, no time for downward spirals, Beel will help however he can to keep MC on top of things. Even if it means going hungry for a while, he can’t really eat anything until he’s sure they’re okay.

This isn’t to say that Beel is some sort of drill sergeant, not by any means. If MC is too bogged down to handle something, he’ll either take care of it, or help them find some sort of work around. His goal is to minimize their distress, so they don’t feel like doing that ever again.

He’s not totally naive though: he understands that these things don’t go away in a day. Whenever MC feels the urge to harm themselves, Beel is there: is MC up for a workout? How about popping by Hell’s Kitchen with him? Do they... can he hug them?

Basically, he wants to ease their pain however he can. He’s lost people before, and he refuses to do so again, not if he can help it.

Belphegor

Belphie is no stranger to self-harm, though his is more in the form of neglect. He feels like he doesn’t deserve those things, so why bother? Seeing MC self-harming though... it’s a wake-up call for the Avatar of Sloth. They both can’t keep doing this.

Honestly, the two become a bit of a mess for a while. Belphie wants to help them and make sure they’re okay, so much so that he starts overworking himself without regard for his own wellbeing, which makes MC feel guilty, so they overwork to help him, but this aggravates their symptoms, which upsets Belphie because he’s trying to help and it’s not working! - and they both end up an exhausted, sobbing mess on the floor, cry-yelling at each other to stop being so stubborn and just let me help you!

At that, Belphegor starts laughing. We’re really bad at this... he says with a sardonic smile. If MC is the type, they may start laughing with him.

From there, the two decide to make a pact (no, not that kind): they will work together to both help themselves, and each other. No mutually assured exhaustion, no destructive cycles of overworking, just support and stumbling into becoming functional together.

MC helps keep Belphegor awake during classes, and Belphegor makes sure MC sleeps through the night. They have their meals together. If one of them is feeling down, the other one is there to comfort them. This involves a lot of game nights with Beel, and of course the healing power of naps, Belphie’s version of the fifteen minute rule.

If MC is really struggling, Belphie will take them up to the planetarium and arrange a game: if they can name all the constellations in the sky in 20 minutes, he won’t stop them from getting their lighter/blade/etc. Regardless of how many MC manages to name, he always says they missed some, even if he makes them up.

You forgot Faustus Minor.

You’re making that one up!

Nope. Iblis’ Tunic too. Guess you’re stuck for another 20 minutes of cuddles.

(I hope this is satisfactory!)

#Anonymous #obey me #obey me headcanon #cw: self harm #self harm tw #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #if they seem wildly different from each other in terms of what i cover #it's because i wrote them at different times #so i apologize for the lack of consistency #mine #my writing

[august-anon]

LERning New Things About Ourselves -- Pineapple’s Fics!

Note From August: With Pineapple taking a break from tumblr until she’s an adult, I will be hosting her fic on my blog for the time being. You can find them under tags like pineapple fics and pineapple writing. Once she is back, they will be deleted from my blog and reposted to her own. Thanks for being understanding to her during this time! Don’t forget to show her your love!

Word Count: 9111 words

Characters: lee!Virgil, ler!Roman

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Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the maliciously coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It all started on that fateful day when Virgil Anthony decided to post an ad for a new roommate. His previous roommates, Patton and Logan each got married and moved away, leaving Virgil with an empty apartment and no friends. 

 He was surprisingly content with that reality had it not been for a silly little thing called “rent” that incessantly found itself worming its way into Virgil’s life, and grew impressively large throughout the months. So, deciding he wished to eat this month, he begrudgingly settled on posting a chipper little advertisement on their community college’s website requesting a new roommate, provided they could come up with $450 a month. Weeks passed by and he was starting to lose hope until finally, he got a reply. After a quick online interview, he found himself with a new roommate. Before Virgil knew it, it was moving day.

 And that was when he met Roman Prince. Roman was… eccentric.. to say the least, but despite their slightly awkward interview, Virgil knew he was the one. And maybe it helped that he made twice what Virgil made in a week, and brought with him a flatscreen TV and a Switch. Just a little.

 “Ahh! Hello!” greeted the man as he set down his suitcase on the steps leading to the apartment. “You must be Virgil!” He stuck out the newly freed hand to shake Virgil’s. Virgil accepted.

 “Hey, dude. Yeah, and you must be Roman,” he acknowledged with a smile. “Do you need help with your stuff?” 

Roman waved his hand. “Nah, a couple of buddies of mine are coming by later to help me. For now, it’s just me and my suitcase,” he answered, pointing to the suitcase he left by the staircase. Virgil nodded. 

 “Okay, cool. Well, why don’t you come in, and we can chat.” Virgil wrung his hands slightly as he spoke, his nerves lit up from the social anxiety. He was trying his best to be friendly and not scare this guy off. Fortunately, Roman seemed to do most of the talking for the both of them. Only a couple hours in, the two found themselves seated on the sofa, sipping wine, and getting to know each other. Well, it was mostly Virgil getting to know Roman.

 “So, how long have you lived in Cheyenne?” Virgil asked him.

 “About three years now! We moved right after I graduated highschool, my parents grew up here, and I decided to go to college here too,” he answered, pointing to the east side of the apartment in the direction of the community college.

 Virgil smiled. “That’s nice you all can live in the same area. You get along with your family well, I take it?”

 Roman bobbed his head. “Oh yeah. I’m an only child, and it’s safe to say they spoiled me,” he chuckled, and Virgil joined him. Roman shrugged, smiling wryly. “I mean, I’m sure you figured that out considering no sibling should ever feel this confident,” he joked.

 Virgil snickered. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Coming from a kid with three older brothers, I know.” He poured some more red wine into both of their glasses. “So, where do you work?” he inquired, ignoring the urge to ask where he makes so much money,

 “I work at the bar across the street, Rattlesnake Juice Bar. I’m the manager,” Roman said, bringing the glass up to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. 

 “Wow, that’s impressive! Normally at twenty-one, employers don't offer management positions at bars,” commented Virgil, sipping his own drink. Roman swallowed his drink and shrugged.

 “I guess it was because I had some experience, you know? I’ve been in management since I was seventeen.” Virgil nodded his head with a smile. 

 “Yeah, that’d do it,” he chuckled. Virgil shifted so he sat on his knees. “So, are you going to do management for a major?” he asked. 

 Roman shook his head. “No, actually, although it’d probably be a better career plan. Instead, I’m majoring in Journalism with a minor in Creative Writing.” Virgil brought the glass up to his lips, preparing to drink again. 

 “Oh wow, that’s cool. What do you like to write?”

 “Tickle fanfiction.”

 Virgil coughed violently, and spit the wine he just had in his mouth onto his shirt. Roman’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh, oh my gosh, are you alright?” he asked, hurriedly grabbing paper towels and handing them to the still sputtering man. Virgil snapped back to reality and finally noticed the spill.

 “Oh, for heavens’ sake-“ he muttered, graciously accepting the towels and dabbing at his shirt. Roman furrowed his eyebrows as he helped Virgil clean up.

 “Are you alright?” he asked again, his voice laced in genuine concern. Virgil looked up at him for a moment and examined his eyes for any signs of malfeasance. Nothing.

 “Um, yeah, I-“ he coughed again, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Yeah, I just, you know, went down the wrong pipe,” he stuttered, gesturing vaguely to his throat. Roman nodded in understanding.

 “Yeah, that happens to me all the time. Are you sure you’re good?”

 Virgil nodded a bit too earnestly as he got up to go throw away the wine-soaked paper towels. Once safely in the kitchen, he refocused his breathing and tried to calm his beating heart. It was a good thing too, because as soon as he returned, Roman continued the conversation right back up where it had left off.

 Virgil barely had time to sit down before Roman began speaking again. “Yeah, so anyways, back to our conversation, I write tickle fanfiction,” he explained with a smile. “It’s super fun. I have quite the following on Tumblr too! Over three hundred followers and they're growing by the minute!” Roman raved. Virgil just started in utter disbelief.

 “Oh, well. That’s, uh, cool.”

 Roman’s face lit up in excitement. “I take it you know what tickle fanfiction is?” he asked eagerly.

 Virgil’s face heated to a thousand degrees. “No! I-I mean, no, not really. I just, I was being supportive. Yeah.” Virgil cringed at how painfully obvious he was being. This guy had to know his slip up. At least he clearly didn’t have to worry about being judged with Roman. But alarmingly, Roman actually appeared to believe him.

 “Oh! Well, it’s the coolest thing. Basically-“ he paused for a moment. “Hm, actually, I guess the best way to explain is to start at the very beginning!”

 And there Virgil sat, for an entire hour, as he listened to Roman in great explicit detail explain every aspect of the fixation of tickling, the community he was in, and everything he wrote about without a single stutter or slip up. And Virgil listened the whole way through, flinching at the subconscious wiggling of fingers as Roman discussed teases, and thanking whoever the genius inventor of foundation was, for it was the only thing keeping him from blinding his new roommate with the power of his flush as Roman described lees and lers.

 Virgil also found out that apparently Roman was a ler. How…interesting.

 Finally, mercifully, Roman stopped talking. “Oh goodness,” he laughed. “I’ve been talking for almost an hour, haven’t I!”

 Exactly fifty-six minutes, thought Virgil. 

 “Sorry, I just get really excited and passionate about tickling and writing! Writing is my biggest hobby, and I love it so much. I try to be in touch with all my followers too, you know? I message back to anyone who messages me first, and reply to comments when I can.” 

 “Um, yeah. Well, I, uh, better throw this shirt in the wash,” Virgil interjected, leaping from the couch and scurrying out of the room.

 Roman stared, watching his roommate in confusion, but ultimately shrugged it off and went to go find his new room.

It had been a week since the incident, and frankly, Virgil had not fully recovered yet. He didn’t even know how to begin to process the fact that a proud, confident ler was now living with him. He desperately wanted to know what Roman’s Tumblr account was to see if he could follow him. But discreetly of course, because even though Roman may be secure and confident in his quirk, Virgil was not, and that was just how it was. It would be easy, right? Just ignore him when he talks about it. Virgil was sure Roman was probably used to it.

 Later that afternoon, Virgil was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and was intensely scrolling through Tumblr on his phone trying to find Roman’s blog, when the man in question walked into the room.

 Virgil all but threw his phone across the room in a panic when he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. He spun around. “Uh, y-yes?” he asked, closing his eyes in an attempt to slow his pounding heart rate. Roman didn’t seem to notice the odd behavior.

 “Hey, Virge! So, you’re an English major, right?” He pulled up a chair at the dining room table and sat down. Virgil nodded, happy for the change of conversation.

 “Yep. Whatcha need?” 

 Roman pulled out his phone and scrolled for a bit before handing it over to Virgil. “Do you mind proofreading this for any grammar or spelling errors?” 

 Virgil nodded and accepted the phone, squinting to try and read the tiny print. This wasn’t uncommon for Virgil. Many of his acquaintances often asked Virgil to proofread their emails and letters to bosses and businesses. It wasn’t until a few seconds of staring until he noticed.

 It was a tickle fic. Virgil’s face blossomed into a bright red, as he glanced up at Roman who was sitting stone faced and calm.

 “What-” he cleared his throat, “What is this?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

 Roman tilted his head. “One of my fics! I’m not the best with grammar, and I was really hoping you could help me edit. You know, as a writing major I really want to get better,” he responded with a smile. Virgil took a shaky breath. No, this was fine. Completely and totally fine. He was just reading a fic in the direct presence of a ler, and then giving him pointers on how to make it better. 

 “Well, um, you could, maybe, reword this better,” he finally said after a minute. 

 “What part?”

 Virgil pointed to a sentence on the screen. “That one.”

 Roman looked at him and giggled. “Virge, do you really think I can see that? Just read it to me, silly.”

  Virgil’s face felt like it was on fire. “Oh, um. Okay. So you w-wrote, ‘He laughed, squirming all over the bed, as Chuni followed him, massaging his r-ribs.’ Yeah?” He glanced up at Roman to see him listening intently. Oh, this was hard. “Um, so, to make it flow better you can reword it slightly by changing, changing the order.” He cleared his throat again. “For example, ‘He laughed and squirmed all over the bed and Chuni followed him, m-massaging his ribs.’ Does that, um, make sense?” he clarified.

 Roman smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it does! Thanks! Anything else?” Virgil shut his eyes in an attempt to control his breathing.

 “Well you, um, spelt t-tormenting wrong,” he grimaced. Roman leaned over. 

 “Oh did I?” Virgil nodded, propping his head up on his arm in a weak attempt to hide his face. “Can you go over the rest with me?”

 Virgil pinched his arm. “Yep, sure thing,” he squeaked.

 That was by the longest afternoon of his young adult life. But if he thought that was bad, nothing compared to what happened a month later. 

Virgil had still not yet found Roman’s blog, and he kicked himself for not checking to see what the title of the one fic he proofread was so he could search it up later. Regardless, he was still very closeted in his secret fantasy, and somehow managed to keep his cool throughout the many conversations where Roman brought up his ler moods, and writings, and such. 

 “Virgil!” exclaimed Roman, bursting into the room. Virgil jumped slightly from his seat on the couch, nearly dropping his phone. 

 “Um, yes?” He turned to see Roman holding a ukulele. “Why do you have a ukulele?” 

 Roman smiled excitedly. “Well, so you know how I talk about teases, right? How they’re essential to the wreckage of a lee?” Virgil forcefully shoved the embarrassment panic creeping up down his throat. “Well, I thought how cool it’d be, as a new type of tease, to write song parodies of nursery rhymes, but make them tickle related!”

 Virgil’s stomach twisted in a pleasant coil as he sat in complete shock. Surely not. “I, uh-“

 “You wanna hear some?” he asked, bouncing up and down excitedly on his toes. Virgil continued to ogle as he begged his 

voice to work.

 “Um, s-sure,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking at the end.

 Roman beamed. “Perfect! Okay, so you know the song Tiny Tim, right?”

 Virgil coughed. “T-the turtle song?” Roman nodded.

 “Yep! But I changed it.” He did a strum of the ukulele before beginning to play the catchy tune. “I have a little feather,” he sang out, his voice ringing out with the chords of the instrument. “His name is Tiny Tim, I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin!” Virgil blanched at the teasing lilt in his voice. “I drank up all his laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered, his smile oh so real!” 

 Roman finished the song and looked at Virgil expectantly. Unfortunately, at that moment Virgil’s voice decided to duck out and leave him. Roman giggled at him. “Are you speechless at my talent or something?”

 Virgil, horrified, frantically willed the embarrassment away as he finally found his voice. “Oh, no, sorry. Uh, yeah no. It was good. Good,” he took a breath while rubbing the back of his neck. “Job. Yeah,” he finished lamely.

 Roman pumped his fists in excitement. “Yessss! I was super proud of it! You wanna hear another one?” Rather than wait for a response, he strummed the ukulele again. “Oh, so this tease requires a specific name for it. Do you mind if I just use yours?”

 Virgil swore he was going to have a stroke.

 “Oh I know a little lee,” he sang, this time playing a new tune. “His name is Wiggle Virgey,” he paused his singing to look at him. “Adding y’s at the end of names makes it teasy,” he explained. 

 Virgil said nothing. 

 “He is so very nice, but oh he is so giggly, and so goes his arms, and his arms go like so, and his arms are always so-oh-oh!”

 Yep. Virgil was going to die. 

 After two more verses, Roman finally finished his song and Virgil was all but willing to sell both his kidneys to disappear from this conversation.  

 “So, what did you think? That one isn’t my best, but I liked it!” Roman commented nonchalantly.

 Virgil simply stared and nodded. Roman furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

 Virgil blinked. “YeAh, why?” His voice cracked as he tried to speak. He quickly coughed to cover it up.

 “I don’t know, you just seem sick or something. You’ve been coughing an awful lot. Your face is like bright red and you’ve been oddly quiet,” said Roman. That only made Virgil blush even more. 

 “No, yeah, no I’m fine,” he answered, waving him off. “Yeah, but I really gotta go work on, um that thing, for school, see ya around.” And with that, Virgil darted out of the room for the second time, leaving Roman standing alone in utter bewilderment.

Virgil had done his very best to avoid Roman after the whole tease incident, which was difficult considering they lived under the same roof. And even worse considering Roman was the most oblivious guy on the planet. 

 Virgil was in bed, scrolling through Tumblr on his phone, when he saw another post from his favorite writer, TheLeringPrince. He felt his lee mood spike as he saw it was a new tease post. Eagerly, he tapped the post and began to read. Slowly as he read though, something seemed off. The tease post was various nursery rhymes all modified to fit into the theme of tickling. And Tiny Tim was one of them.

 Virgil’s heart began to race and his mind started spinning as he hurriedly tried to calm himself down. “No, Virgil,” he breathed out. “No, it’s just a coincidence. Roman probably stole it from this guy or maybe just thought of the same idea.” Ironically, he found himself wishing his roommate was a thief who stole credit from his favorite Tumblr user’s work, rather than admit that Roman was said favorite Tumblr user.

 But right at the bottom of the post, there was a little bold sentence that truly made Virgil’s heart stop.

 ‘And many of you have been wondering about my sudden improvement in my grammar and spelling. Well, you can thank my brand new roommate for helping me proofread all my new fics and teases!’

 What was Virgil’s luck? Of all the people on this planet of seven billion, he gets a roommate who, not only is a confident and charismatic ler who happily reads his teases and fics to Virgil, but is also the specific ler that Virgil had been daydreaming about being destroyed by for years.

 Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug whoever ordained this or punch them.

 Virgil contemplated it for a while before finally deciding to tell his anxiety to hit the road, and take this glorious opportunity by the horns. So with a deep breath, he clicked on TheLeringPrince’s profile, then DM’s, then opened his keypad.

 Immenslee_Ticklish: Hey, just wanted to say that I really like your stuff, and that you seem like a pretty cool dude. Would you want to chat sometime?’

 Immediately, he received a reply.

 TheLeringPrince: Why thank you, Immenslee. And yes, I would love to chat ;)

Days went by, and Roman and Virgil were talking through their blogs constantly. Roman had taken to teasing Virgil quite thoroughly on the platform, and Virgil obviously ate it up. Roman even mentioned wanting to meet up sometime. Virgil would be lying if he said he didn't nearly pass out at that.

 Of course they still talked in real life, only Roman didn’t know who Virgil was. Oddly enough, Virgil almost felt safer talking to his Tumblr handle rather than to him in real life. He had to laugh at that. Six months ago, Virgil would have fainted at the idea of living with his favorite ler. And now, here he was, finally having something to satiate his ever present, insatiable lee mood! And he was hiding. 

 He just wasn’t sure how to tell him! Leave his Tumblr open? Text him? Tell him through Tumblr DMs? For goodness’ sake, what was he so afraid of? This guy was clearly accepting and non judgmental about the whole thing. Most people would kill to be in this position. Well, most lees anyways.

 Little did Virgil know, but Roman was already pretty suspicious. He didn’t have any evidence of the fact, but he was pretty certain that Virgil had to have some lee in him somewhere. His blush and stutters were getting increasingly obvious and even though Roman could be an idiot, he wasn’t stupid. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he did, there was nothing stopping him. Except of course, if Virgil for some reason just didn’t want to be tickled. That was fine too. But there was something in him that made Roman sincerely doubt that was the case.

 Roman had never had a problem about being open with his fixation. He figured that if people were going to judge him based on a silly little liking, then they weren’t worth being in his life. He could understand why some people hid it, sure. It was scary to be so open about something other people found weird. But Roman just never had that fear.

 But one day, Roman got a message. It was from a follower named Immenslee_Ticklish. Now Roman recognized this user, as they often commented, liked, and reblogged alot of his works. They were great fans, and apparently very much lee themselves. And all of a sudden, after two whole years of following Roman, they decide to message him. 

 Interesting.

 But Roman ultimately decided to keep quiet about his suspicions because if Virgil wasn’t saying anything, then he didn’t want Roman to know. And Roman respected that. Even if he really wanted to tickle him.

 Turns out he didn’t have to wait much longer.

Virgil had practiced it for weeks. He knew exactly what to say, and how he was going to say it. But that all flew out the window as he stared at Roman.

 “Virgil, buddy, you’ve been staring at me for three minutes now,” commented Roman, raising an eyebrow at the man in question. “You came to tell me something.” Virgil inhaled deeply and tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Roman gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey, it’s okay. No need to be scared.” Virgil just stared at him. Roman’s heart broke for this kid, who was obviously scared out of his mind. “I promise I’m not going to be upset, or judge you, or do whatever your pretty little head is thinking might happen.

 “I’mImenseleeTicklish!” he spat out suddenly. Roman jumped in surprise, but as soon as it hit him, he grinned.

 “Oh, are you now?” he hummed, a sly smile watching the flustered boy with great amusement.

 “Wait, no, I meant like the username. I’m the user Immenslee_Ticklish. I didn’t mean it like I’m immensely ticklish, well, I might be, but-“

 Roman’s amused look caused him to stop talking. “So, yes?”

 Virgil nodded. “I’m, uh, I’m a lee. Yeah.” The two of them stared at each other, neither one breaking the deafening silence or the intense eye contact.

 “Well that’s very valuable information,” Roman stated calmly, being the first to speak, and before walking away and into the kitchen.

 Wait?! Before walking away?!

 Virgil’s mouth dropped open as he watched Roman walk off. “Wait!” he called indignantly. Roman paused, smirking away from Virgil. 

 “Yes?”

 Virgil just stared for a minute, waving his arms dramatically as if it would help him speak. “Aren’t you going to, um, do something?”

 Roman turned around to face him, as Virgil paled at seeing Roman smile darkly at him. “Like what?”

 Realization hit him like a truck, and Virgil gaped in absolute horror. He was going to make him ask, wasn’t he? Oh, this was mean. So, so, so mean. 

 But at this point the lee mood was so bad that his dignity was going to have to leave him.

 “I- were you, um,” he covered his face with his hands. “Were you gonna tickle me?”

 He could hear Roman’s evil grin. “Do you want me to?”

 “Um, yes. Please.” He swallowed harshly.

 Roman clapped. “Why look at those manners!” he praised, gleaming at the whining boy in the living room. “I would love to. But to be clear, what exactly do you want to happen?”

 “W-What do you mean?” Virgil asked, peeking from behind his hands. 

 “Tell me exactly what you want for me to do. In explicit detail, or I won’t do any of it,” cooed Roman. 

 “You’re so mean,” Virgil whined into his hands again. Roman laughed at his expense.

 “I’m waiting~” 

 Virgil glared at him through his hands. “I want you to wreck me and tease me and destroy my resolve, and I want you to do it now! Please.” He added, lest he be made to repeat his request in a more polite manner. Roman reeled back, a tad surprised at the direct request.

 “Well, good for you. I’d be happy to,” he nodded, impressed. “Very well. Meet me in your room in ten minutes~” he teased with a wink. 

 After he left, Virgil let it sink in. He was about to be ruthlessly teased and broken by his ler idol in ten minutes.

 Oh he was going to die.

Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the malicious coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?” Roman’s voice lowered significantly into a husky tone that sent shivers down Virgil’s spine. He tugged on his restraints, waves of excitement and panic flooding his body, and feeding his lee mood from before. He had waited years. Years and years and years for this day. To be in this position, and about to get wrecked into oblivion. He had no idea what Roman was going to do, but he was excitedly terrified.

 Roman took a single finger and began aimlessly swirling around Virgil’s belly, going in zigzag patterns, curlicues, and idle shapes while he rested his head on Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s breath hitched, the gentle touches not quite tickling, but was setting an amazing precedent for what was about to take place. Roman let out a deep breath, purposely aiming it for Virgil’s neck, rewarding him with a satisfying squeal as the man scrunched up his shoulders as much as he could.

 “I have a dilemma, Virgil,” sighed Roman melodramatically. “I feel like, since you’ve waited all this time for some expert ler to completely wreck you, destroy you, and undo your very resolve, that you ought to have a good experience, hm?” he commented, glancing up to look at Virgil’s wobbly smile. “I mean you’ve been so patient! It’d feel criminal to deprive you of the best possible experience. Don’t you agree?” He paused, waiting for a reply while still mindlessly twisting his finger on the pale expanse of skin, but all Virgil did was squeak softly in embarrassment.

 Suddenly, Roman snapped his fingers, causing Virgil to flinch slightly. “I’ve got it!” he announced, smiling darkly. “Let’s let you choose.” 

 Virgil’s eyes widened in pure horror. “What?” 

 “Why choose your own teases, of course! Who better knows exactly how to tease and fluster you, and turn you into a giggling blushy pile of goo then yourself?” Roman enunciated his point with a few teasing pokes to his chest. Virgil squirmed in an attempt to get the pokes to hit his stomach but he had no such luck. “So, Giggles, you want to try it?”

 Virgil bit his lip and bounced his legs anxiously. “No!” he whined, his wobbly smile growing by the minute.

 Roman grinned. “No? But it’s like a choose your own adventure! You choose your own teases and tools! Won’t that be fun?” Virgil shook his head violently. Roman mock pouted. “But I think it will be fun!”

 Virgil made a strangled guttural sound in reply. “I-“

 “Yes, dear,” he urged, resting his chin on Virgil’s chest once again.

 Virgil sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. “I-I can’t tease,” he mumbled under his breath. 

 “What was that?”

 “I can’t tease!” he repeated, only slightly louder this time. Fortunately, Roman heard him.

 “Oh well, that’s not a problem, silly. You aren’t saying the teases. I am!” he replied with a smirk. Virgil peaked one eye open.

 “But I thought you said-“

 “Oh, I know what I said,” he answered, cutting Virgil off. “No, I already know what teases you chose. You don’t have to say a word.” To Virgil's confusion, he pulled out his phone. It wasn’t until Roman started scrolling and grinning that Virgil’s eyes widened in panicked realization.

 “No, no, no, NO!” Virgil called out, bouncing in anticipation. He tried lunging for the phone but his bonds held him back.

 Roman pretended not to hear him. “Hm, let’s see. Posts, then notes, then-“ Roman grinned up at Virgil. “Ah yes, reblogged by Immenselee_ticklish! Oh, look there’s a comment too!”

 “No! No, don’t read the comment!”

 “It says, ‘Ahhhh!! Oh gosh, I’m blushing so hard!!’ Hold up.” Roman turned to look up at Virgil who was fire engine red. He smirked. “Would you look at that. Anyway, it continues to say, ‘I would die if anyone said this to me!’ And then there’s a blushing face.” 

 He smirked again as he faced Virgil. “So, would you say you’ve died?” Virgil whined longingly. Roman nodded while looking back at his phone. “I’d say yes.”

 Roman continued to scroll only for his eyes to light up in delight. “Oh looky here!” Virgil slammed his eyes shut, not daring to. 

 “No, no, no, no.”

 “Virgil look! It’s a gif! Oh wow.” 

 Oh yeah. Virgil definitely wasn’t going to look. He was strong, he was resilient, and nothing could break him!

 “Aww and they’re getting their bellybutton tickled! Isn’t that your most favorite spot in the whole wide world?”

 Um, yeah. It was easy, mind over matter. He wouldn’t look. Easy.

 “Hey! And it’s your best friend! Mr. Toothbrush!”

 Yeah, he... What was he saying?

 “Roman, please,” he begged, eyes still clamped shut. The endless teases were killing him. His ever present lee mood had grown into a ravenous monster that he thought would never be satiated. His body screamed for tickles. It was more than a want, or even a craving. It was a need at this point. And Roman knew that and it only fueled his evil ler facade all the more. 

  “Aw, poor baby. Don’t worry, we’ll start soon,” he cooed.

 Roman made Virgil lie there, flustered and helpless, and oh so terribly lee, and wait as he read out tease after tease that Virgil reblogged from his Tumblr, and even read the comments from the lee himself.  Virgil wished with every second of every minute spent lying on that bed he had never made that Tumblr account. 

 After ten or so teases, Roman finally, mercifully, put the phone away. Virgil sighed in relief. Finally! He was going to be tickled to his limits, then past them, then have them pushed even further. He didn’t just want to be broken. He didn’t just want to be destroyed. No, he wanted so much more.

 Roman marched up to the table and placed both hands on Virgil’s thighs. “So, a little birdie told me you like baby talk,” he teased. Virgil blushed, which Roman took for a yes. “So would a, oh I don’t know, little kitchy, kitchy, coo would get you all flustered, hm? A little-“ his voice dropped an octave. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~” his face morphed to a maniacal grin. 

 Virgil's face turned crimson as he wiggled around on the table. “Noho!” He barked out a laugh. Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise.

 “No? Hmm. What about nursery rhymes, huh? You sure liked the ones I sang to you earlier this month! Do you want to hear some of those?  ‘Cause I got some good ones~” Roman whipped out a feather seemingly out of nowhere and waved it teasingly in front of Virgil’s nose. Virgil yelped at the sensation.

 “I have a little feather,” sang out Roman, his voice rising and falling with the feather. “His name is Tiny Tim. I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin.” He winked at Virgil who just blushed deeper. “I drank up all the laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered,” Another wink. “His smile is so real.” 

 Virgil was already softly giggling at the song, and it only encouraged Roman to keep going. “You got a little giggle button, right? I have another fun song, just. for. him!” he cheered, punctuating each word with a poke to his bellybutton, making Virgil squeal each time. 

 He took the feather and ran it in a large teasy circle all around the vast expanse of vulnerable tummy. “Ring around the belly, a button full of jelly,” he heard Virgil snort when the feathers hit a particular spot on his waistline. “-tickle, tickle, they all fall down!” Roman ended the verse with several flicks of the fluffy feather to Virgil’s bellybutton, causing him to buck and laugh, but it was still technically soft tickles. Virgil didn’t want soft tickles right now.

 “Rohohoho,” he whined through the giggles. Roman ignored him. 

 “Let’s see. Oh, here’s another favorite of mine!” He cleared his throat and lifted the feather again. “Oh head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes! Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes~” He ran the feather all over the respective places, and it didn’t tickle much, but Roman’s plan was working. Virgil was getting more and more flustered, and more and more ticklish. 

 “Oh feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins. Feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins~” Roman watched in glee as Virgil’s face turned darker and darker with each song, and how even though the tickling was so light, his giggles were still sharp.

 All of a sudden, with zero warning, Roman ditched the feather and attacked Virgil’s tummy with all ten fingers. “Oh, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes! She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes-“ Virgil fell into deep belly laughter as he thrashed and pulled desperately. “She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes!” 

 Virgil had never felt more embarrassed in his life, but that made the tickling so much more fun. After two more verses, Roman stopped. Virgil whined again at the loss of contact. 

 Roman chuckled. “You really are a hopeless lee, aren’t you?”

 Virgil scrunched his nose. “Shut up.”

 Roman’s eyebrows raised in an accusatory way. “Do you want to say that again?”

 “What? Shut up?” snarked Virgil, trying to wind him up to get wrecked and forced to apologize, but unfortunately, Roman saw right through his plan.

 “Wow. You really are desperate. Stooping so low as to provoke me to lash out and wreck you right this minute?” Roman tisked lightly. “Imagine! You honestly think that I’m going to fall for the oldest trick in the book? I hate to break it to you, Stormcloud, but I’m far more experienced than you think I am,” he added, shaking his head in disapproval. “I ought to make you wait longer just for that.”

 Virgil gasped and shook his head desperately. “No, no, please no! I’m sorry!”

 Roman shook his head again. “Poor little lee. So desperate you’ve lost your dignity. Here you are, begging like this for me to so horribly wreck you until you can’t even remember your own name.” Despite his words of disapproval, he smiled. “Oh course, I don’t blame you. I am very talented so I understand your eagerness. For that reason, I will grant mercy and not punish you for your lousy attempts at brattiness.”

 Virgil let out the biggest sigh of relief imaginable. At last! He was going to be wrecked!

 “But I still have one more game before we start.”

 Virgil threw his head back onto the bed with such a force it almost hurt. “Oh my gosh, Roman please,” he begged, whining at a new frequency.

 Roman sighed. “One more! You can do it. I have to make sure your ticklish little body is at optimal sensitivity! So, here’s an easy game to finish you off.” He walked around to the side of the bed. “Just gotta warm you up,” he winked before wiggling his fingers menacingly above Virgil. Virgil asked, and sucked in his stomach, but Roman simply drew in closer. The fingers were so tantalizingly close to the tickle spot, and Virgil swore he felt them already. And in his mind, he pleaded and begged with Roman to hurry up and get on with it already, but on the outside he was completely stunned into silence. 

 Until Roman did a fake out.

 Roman launched his wiggling fingers at Virgil full speed without any sort of warning, and Virgil lost it. He laughed, he snorted, he cackled, and he squealed. He jerked and thrashed all over his limited free space for a whole minute until he realized. Roman’s hands were behind his back, as he watched Virgil with the most evil look you could imagine.

 “You're awful!” screeched Virgil, both mortified by his own reaction, and furious at Roman’s trick. Roman laughed out loud.

 “Hmm, okay, okay. I’ll wreck you now. Besides, I can’t just keep you here, endlessly teasing and torturing you forever?” He paused with a smirk. “Actually-“

 “Roman!” Virgil cried out, laughing in both frustration at his lee mood, and anticipation from what was coming.

 Roman laughed at his panic. “I’m just kidding, jeez. You poor lee. Alright, I’ll wreck you, on the one condition you tell me your worst spots.”

 Virgil’s eyes turned to saucers. “I-what?”

 “You heard me! Give me those death spots or else no tickles~” he sang, thinking the nerves were from his tease.

 But strangely, Virgil turned more bashful, rather than flustered. It was almost a sheepish look on his face that replaced the embarrassment. That certainly got Roman’s attention.

 “What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern. Virgil scrunched his face up and looked down.

 “I-I well, I don’t know what my worst spots are,” he replied with a shy smile.

 Roman was confused for about two seconds before it dawned on him.  “You-“ he stared in utter wonderment. “You‘ve never tickled before, have you?”

 Virgil’s face flushed under the attention. “Well, yeah, no not really,” he mumbled sheepishly.

 Oh, this was a game changer. Roman beamed. “You mean to tell me, I’m your first time?” Virgil smiled again, and nodded hesitantly. Roman had never been so excited in his life. “Well then, I guess we have work to do!” he commented, a wicked grin and a twinkle shining in his eye.

 Roman turned and walked down to the end of the bed, clicking his tongue as he examined the body in front of him. “I suppose the best thing to do would be to either go bottom to top, or top to bottom.” He tilted his head up at Virgil while smiling. “Would you by any chance have a preference?”

 Virgil huffed. “I guess, I don’t know. Bottom to top?” he suggested, more or so not caring as he really just wanted to be wrecked already. Roman clapped.

 “Perfect! That means I get to play with your cute little feet!” he cheered. Virgil blushed. Roman held tight of the right foot’s ankle and took the same pointer finger and carefully slid it from the tippy top of the toes all the way down to the heel. Virgil immediately started his giggles anew, wiggling his upper body at the light touches. “Oh good! It seems you’re ticklish here! What else can we try?” 

 Roman soon added the other four fingers into the fray and began ruthlessly scratching up and down and all around the soft tender arches, making Virgil snort and fall into deeper laughter at the feeling. He tickled all around the foot, being very thorough and detailed in his methods, making sure not one inch of ticklish skin was left unscathed. Then, without warning, he moved up to the toes. He wiggled each little toe and scolded them if they curled up. Eventually, he pulled them back and gave them a good scratching underneath as punishment for their misbehavior. Virgil thrashed like nobody’s business, finally getting exactly what he wanted, and it was so much better then he had ever thought. And he certainly didn’t complain when Roman informed him that his other foot was getting left out, and needed the same tickly treatment.

 After both feet were thoroughly assaulted (Roman may have had to go back to the right foot again, it seemed to be getting lonely),  he spidered his fingers all the way up to Virgil’s knees. Virgil smiled in anticipation, bouncing his leg as he waited. 

 “Ah yes, the knees. Such an underrated tickle spot! Very few people think about the knees being so terribly ticklish, but they can be! It all starts with this little pressure point, riiiight here.” Roman began rapidly wheezing the muscle right above Virgil knee, making him fall into deep laughter. “Oh wonderful!” shouted Roman above the loud laughter. “It seems as if your knees are just as horridly sensitive as I thought!” His squeezing fingers quickly switched to spidering ones, and darted right on the underneath of his knees, sending Virgil snorting.

 Roman awed at the adorable sounds. “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? Are my tickly, tickly tickles making you giggle, hm?” he cooed, relishing in the deep red color that was Virgil’s face and the tiny snorts mixed in with the hysterical giggles.

 “Nohohohoho!” Virgil giggled out, trying to kick his legs but the restraints keeping every inch of ticklish skin in place.

 “No?” questioned Roman. “Well, that’s a shame! Why don’t we try something else then,” he pondered and immediately grabbed the young man’s thighs, squeezing sporadically and rapidly every area of muscle. Virgil’s eyes bulged out as he flung himself to sit up right and cackle.

 Roman’s eyes lit up with mischief at the extremity of Virgil’s reaction. “Oh, what's this? Does this tickle? Are you ticklish here?” he asked, the teasing lilt in his voice making the ruthless squeezing at his thighs all the worse. Virgil fell back on to the bed to wheeze with laughter when Roman moved up closer to his hips. “Virgil!” scolded Roman. “Hello! I’m talking to you! Does this tickle?” he asked again, not for one second stopping the wretched attack on the loathsomely sensitive muscle.

 When Virgil still didn’t reply, Roman felt a spike of worry, and slowed his squeezing fingers just a little. Virgil’s wheezy laughter died down, until it was more or less hysterical giggles. 

 “Yes!” Virgil called out. Roman was confused for a minute until he remembered the question he had asked a few minutes earlier. He took his hands off his legs, leaving Virgil limp and giggly. 

 “Oh good! See I guessed it did, but I was just checking,” he winked. “Congratulations, Virgil. I think you might have your first death spot.” 

 Virgil weakly held up a thumbs up, his giddy smile bright enough to blind someone. Roman smiled at him softly. “How about we take a break?” So he sat next to Virgil on the bed, gently rubbing his shin comfortingly, waiting for Virgil to regain all the breath he’d lost until finally-

 “Um, I think I’m ready to go again,” piped up the younger man. Roman grinned. 

 “You sure?” Virgil nodded eagerly. Roman leaned next to Virgil’s ear, making him squeak. Oh he’d have to remember that. 

 “Well then,” he purred, his voice sending shivers down Virgil’s spine. “Allow me to continue your destruction.” He peered down the bed where Virgil was stretched out, and examined it carefully like a puzzle. He walked down the side to the right of his hips. “Now if my memory serves me, correct me-” Roman began, but Virgil barked out a laugh. Roman glared at him. “What?”

 “Dude, what did you say?” he asked, laughing again. Roman crossed his arms.

 “If my memory serves me, correct me. It’s a saying!” Virgil burst out laughing again. “What?!”

 “The saying is, ‘If my memory serves me, correctly,’ not correct me,” he teased, still laughing at Roman’s miss interpretation. 

 “Okay, yeah, laugh it up, Virgil,” he retorted, immediately squeezing his right thigh again. Promptly the teasing man burst into laughter at the feeling, and proceeded to howl on the bed. “Don’t correct me again!” he playfully scolded before ceasing the tickling. 

 Roman crawled up on the bed in between Virgil legs in hopes of being able to navigate better. “Now, I say we try hips next. Some people overlook it, but they look wonderfully ticklish to me~” he sang, already the tone giving Virgil the giggles. Roman grinned at the pink color once again rising to his cheeks. “Aww, does mentioning the tickly tickles making you a little neeeervous?” he sang again, whilst skimming the skin of his waist and pant line. Virgil’s giggles greatly increased from both the tickling and the teasing alike, as he began wiggling around in the bed.

 Roman’s scratching fingers followed the wiggly hips with great ease, smiling in adoration as he listened to the sweet soft giggles come from his captive. “You’re adorable,” he commented without really thinking. 

 “Nuhnuhnuhuhu uhuhuhuh!” the giggling man protested, yet his denial only further proved Roman’s point.

 “Yeah huh!” argued Roman. “Alright enough softness, I want to watch you scream.” He put on his best evil ler face as he watched Virgil turn a bright crimson at the threat.

 Roman crawled up further until he was practically sitting on Virgil’s hips. “So, let’s test the waters for what are the vast expanse that is Virgil’s tickle spots, shall we?” Virgil pulled up his legs out of reflex, but they were blocked by Roman’s back. He whined.

 “Oh, whatever is the matter, dear?” he cooed, leaning in so close Virgil could feel his breath on his neck and ear. The man made a strangled noise in reply. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t speak lee. Would you mind rephrasing your statement?” 

 Virgil just shut his eyes, trying to smother the wobbly grin that was slowly creeping up onto his face. Roman took that as a sign to continue. 

 He spidered his fingers up to Virgil’s sides, and kept them there, smiling as Virgil shuffled all over the bed in anticipation. “Gohohoho ohohohon, alreheheady!” he giggled out.

 “Is that anyway to ask for something?” Roman playfully scolded moments before digging into the boy’s sides. Virgil bucked and burst into giggles, thrashing and pulling. Roman didn’t stop for even a second, mercilessly tickling, squeezing and scratching all over the sides and even migrating to the soft skin of the belly. Virgil was in proper hysterics and was loving every minute of it.

 “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing! What? What’s the matter? Are you ticklish?” Roman teased, digging into the lower belly. Virgil squealed, and fell into even deeper laughter as Roman took to blowing raspberry after raspberry onto Virgil’s poor ticklish tummy. Virgil was in tickly heaven, for sure, but he still hadn’t been broken yet. And that was fine, but his growing hunger still hadn’t been filled, and he couldn’t help but wish deep down that there was somewhere to truly make him scream. He contemplated asking Roman to go for his thighs again.

 But then.

 As Roman paused the tickling on his sides and began to feel around, something happened. 

 Virgil could only possibly describe it as maybe a jolt of euphoric electricity that shocked him into the pit of his stomach. Something that found the roaring lion that was his lee mood and slapped it in the face. Something that sent shivers to his spine and butterflies to his stomach. Something that made him shriek at the mere feeling of Roman’s presence. If Roman’s dastardly laughter upon finding the spot was any indication, Virgil was screwed.

 “Well, looky here,” he noted, looking up at Virgil with a gleam in his eye, further confirming the reality that Virgil was about to experience. “It seems we’ve found something.” 

 Roman tested the spot again: a rib, nestled warmly in between a tiny layer of fat, and the beginning of his armpit. He sharply poked the rib, eliciting a similar shriek as before. Virgil’s eyes grew like saucers as he fought with his own mind on how he felt. Was he terrified? Was the overwhelming amount of ticklish sensations about to course through his body like an electric current terrifying? Or was he excited? That after all these years of begging and pleading for someone to come into his life and do this very thing to him? 

 Virgil didn’t have time to decide, as Roman promptly dug in.

 Virgil said he wanted to scream, and scream he did. His body was too overwhelmed to even thrash at this point, no, it merely fell limp and took every bit of torture Roman was giving to it. Roman took his pointer finger and thumb, making them into a claw motion, and pinching all over the bone. He pinched up and down, left to right, and repeated the sequence, soaking in every plea and beg and cry from Virgil. He wiggled in between the bone, and even took to scratching the armpits as well. Virgil was happily losing his mind. But it wasn’t over.

 No, because out of nowhere, Roman pulled from under the bed a bottle of oil, and immediately began pouring it into his hands. Virgil greedily sucked in the oxygen as he waited for Roman to start again. His eyes followed him, watching Roman complete his moves with an eagerness about him. He was ready.

 Virgil only had to wait a minute longer before Roman took his sweet time, slowly covering every inch of both armpits in the slippery liquid, purposely sliding his fingers and nails in such a way to make Virgil start to laugh. And then with both hands, he dug in again. 

 Oh, if he thought it was bad before, no, this was true torture. The oil made the fingers glide pristinely on the sensitive skin, and thereby ticking seemingly everywhere at once. Roman still concentrated on squeezing both top rib bones on either side at the same time, while allowing the nails to scratch along the armpits and other ribs as he did it. 

 And Virgil screamed. He screamed and screamed louder than he had ever before. He couldn’t even be concerned at the fact they were living in an apartment, and if they neighbors would be worried. Virgil screeched at the top of his lungs, his voice no longer even saying words or please at this point, just pure unshackled ecstasy in waves unmeasurable. He screamed and laughed his voice hoarse, kicking and tugging in desperation to escape the torture he was being subjected to.

 “So,” commented Roman nonchalantly, yet very loudly to be heard over the booming laughter. “I was wondering if you could give me a quick performance review. You know, it is my first time and all.”

 “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“

 “Okay, so that’s not too bad. Anything else?”

 Virgil silently screamed as he felt Roman vibrate his fingers into both bones once more.

 “Oh good! Well, I appreciate your input, thank you.”

 Virgil was loving every solitary second of this, after all, this is what he had wanted. He wanted exactly this. But, unfortunately, he needed to breathe. So he called out.

 “YEL-“ he stopped mid screech, his own laughter cutting him off. Roman stopped immediately. 

 “Was that yellow?” he asked, face contorting with worry. Virgil didn’t answer at first, only focused on taking in as much oxygen as he could get. 

 “Yeheheah,” he replied, the leftover giggles still dying out.

 Roman’s evil ler face melted as a fond one replaced it. “Wow, I’m impressed. That’s definitely your death spot, and you only called out yellow. I could never last as long as you did,” he marveled. 

 Even with as winded as Virgil was, he was still trying to tease back. “Oho, so you have a death spot, then?” he teased with a smirk. Roman blushed.

 “Oh shut up. Just so you know, you still technically haven’t called red yet,” he retorted cockily. Virgil nodded before laying his head down for a minute to rest. “Do you want water?” Roman asked him. 

 Virgil shook his head. “No, I’m almost done. I’d rather not get up then get back down.” His insatiable lee mood was shrinking drastically. But, there was one more thing he wanted. “So, um,” he looked up at Roman sheepishly. “Can I do a request?” 

 Roman smiled fondly. “Of course. This is your session after all.” 

 Virgil fidgeted as much as he could despite his hands being tied. “So, I kind of have a favorite spot. Like, after you tickled me. I realized I might have a favorite.”

 Roman’s heart practically burst on the spot. “Oh yeah? Let me hear it.”

 Virgil wrinkled his nose in embarrassment, and stayed quiet for a minute. Roman chuckled. “Come on little lee, I can’t help you out if you don’t ask,” he cooed, gently spidering his fingers on the tops of his feet, making him let out a quick giggle at the touch. 

 “Ohohokay, okay. Um,” he looked away bashfully. “Can you go back to, back to my stomach? You, you can tease. Too. If you want, or whatever,” he added quickly, still refusing to look Roman in the eye. Roman beamed.

 “Why, I would love to.”

 Roman sat down next to Virgil, and actually undid his cuffs, much to Virgil’s surprise. “Alright, now keep your arms up,” he whispered, sending a pink flush to his cheeks. 

 “W-what?” he giggled shyly. Roman poked his tummy. 

 “You heard me. You gotta keep them up aaaaall by yourself.” 

 Virgil giggled again, and cautiously raised his arms above his head and gripped the headboard. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

 Roman nodded with a smile and began lightly skittering his fingernails all over Virgil’s quivering tummy. Virgil immediately burst into soft, sweet giggles, the ones he could probably stop if he tried, but definitely didn’t want to, and rocked back and forth onto the bed. Roman kept the fingers teasing his sides gently, then lifted up his shirt slightly and started peppering cute little kisses all over the pale skin. Virgil squealed lightly and giggled slightly harder at the wonderfully maddening feeling, drinking in every bit of feeling he could. 

 Finally after about ten minutes, Virgil slowly lowered his arms from the headboard and Roman stopped. Overwhelming exhausted overcame him like an ocean and he yawned. “Thank you, Roman. This was the best day of my life.” Roman smiled at the compliment.

 “Why I’m so happy it was, Virgil. We will certainly do it again.” He stood up to leave, but Virgil grabbed his arm. 

 “Stay with me?” he asked, pulling on his arm like a child. Roman chuckled.

 “Of course.”

 And the two of them napped together, each so peaceful and happy in that they found each other, and waking up wondering if it was all just a dream.

#tickle fic #pineapple anon #pineapple writing #pineapple fics #sanders sides tickling #lee!virgil #ler!roman #ticklish!virgil #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety

[punk-rock-uncle]

A final good bye and final log out

This is not a suicide not so no need to worry. Many of you that follow me probably barely remember my blog, it wasnt very big or fancy. I barely know how to code or make my blog look like anything but, that is neither here nor now. I wanted to say good bye I have a bad habit of leaving without saying anything and disappearing for weeks at a time. I guess abusive relationships will teach you that. I went silent on this blog around 3 years ago when I started college. But I wanted to talk about why I started this, the ending will be saved most obviously till the end. I started this blog in a way to find friends, in 2012 internet friends were all the rage and I wanted to be a part of that so I started a tumblr. But was not active on it till 2014. In high school I grew a bit of a following around sophomore year 2015. I would constantly rant on this account and people would watch but not say much. It bothered me a bit that I was never “Tumblr Famous” but I knew people who were, so I would live on through them. Tumblr a lot in high school, I was too afraid to do anything but I knew in the back of my mind that I would get there in my own time. Tumblr, in that sense was kind to me and never made me feel like I had to be pressured to do anything and would constantly educate me from maters of social justice and the Black Lives Matter movement, sex education, gender expression, sexuality, art and astrology. I saw all the drama and surprisingly enough stayed away from the super toxic side of tumblr pushing minors to do more and more and more.  It was safety net and whenever my parents would do what they do best I always had the arms of my blog to run and cry to. It made the darkest days a little brighter, people reblogging free movie sites and calming gifs were my saving grace when I was 14 and suicidal. As high school went on I found myself in a relationship and put all my time, money, effort, energy, my whole being into this one person who would end raping me an using my past against me. I was still active and would talk about him on here including our fights. But as the fights got more violent and heated, the less I would post about him and one day all together I stopped posting on here, for what I thought was for good. I wanted to reach out on tumblr and ask “is any of this normal?” “why do we fight so much?” “is it normal for your partner to make you feel this afraid?” “is it normal for them to talk about sex 24/7″ “is it normal to feel afraid and cry during sex?” I wanted to reach out so badly. I knew I couldn’t and it was a stupid reason why I couldn’t. I was afraid of the judgment, because no one here talks about the small intricacies of domestic violence and how it breaks down every part of you. So I went quiet, I stopped talking about him, stopped posting him and he never care. I was put on meds after he raped me, stopped sleeping and eating. After the meds failed to stop the development of PTSD I started smoking and drinking heavily. After all of that I stopped being on tumblr because things were not the same and stuff that made me happy before just stopped bringing me joy. I thought no one here would care about what I have to say and his words and actions confirmed that even more. Eventually I broke it off 8 months later and my friends never believed me that he was abusing me. Life is better now, I lived abroad, I have an apartment with a new boyfriend, hes nice we have our ups and downs but we came from a hard life so someone loving you is a hard thought to accept for both of us. We both have toxic cycles we need to break but he’s good and he’s teaching me to be kind. I would love to continue on this hellsite but I have other things now, bigger and better things. I am just simply a ghost now of a website where I used to poor out all of my traumas and for one last time I will do that. For any 16 year old who stumbles across this post please read through till the end (if you can) because I want to tell you things I wish someone told me at 16/ entered my first relationship.

Your bf, gf and/or partner should never do/say these things and other small warning signs of DV 

1. if sex hurts a lot for you it is because you are not comfortable, communicate this and if they refuse to understand why leave 

2. If your partner scares you so much to the point where you have a panic attack thinking about them, then leave 

3. you will fall out of love in your first relationship, as shitty as it is, it’ll happen. It’s okay, you can leave. Just like you out grow clothes you will outgrow people. 

4. let people leave, I know this is hard to accept but people will leave and the universe will have something in store for you 

5. YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE HAVING SEX AT 16 IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO I LOST MY VIRGINITY AT 19 IT IS NORMAL!

6. it is normal for you and your partner to have conversations about what to say when people constantly ask you if yall have done the deed it is not normal for your partner to tell you to lie and say you have (when you havent); leave if they do this trust me 

7.If your partner is asking about sex 24/7 and its making you uncomfortable then say something, maybe they don’t mean any harm by it! but if once you’re done with the convo and it didn’t make you feel better you should leave 

8. its okay to leave 1st relationships aren’t meant to last 

9.something my mom said that made me feel better: just because you’re breaking up now doesn’t mean you’re breaking up forever 

10. please don’t force yourself to have sex it’s a very toxic cycle. Easy to get into but hard to break out of 

11. you can be alone, you don’t have to date all the time

12. if your partner's parent is bullying you tell your partner that it makes you uncomfortable talk to them about it. Now I understand parents are hard especially when your 16 and younger (hell parents @ 21 are still tough to deal with) and if your partner says “well I can’t tell them off because of xyz” then make a compromise on how to deal with the situation. If your 1st partner’s parents don’t like you it’s not the end of the world and if bugs you that much YOU CAN ALWAYS LEAVE 

13. on the other hand if you tell your partner, they don’t take it seriously and they still beg you to visit their family then leave, you’re not married you’re young I will probably say this a thousand more times BUT YOU CAN ALWAYS LEAVE 

14. YOU CAN ALWAYS LEAVE, YES IT WILL SUCK, YES YOU’LL CRY AT EVERYTHING BUT IT IS OKAY NOTHING IS PERMANENT AND THAT IS A GOOD THING 

15. do not waste your first relationship on couples counseling ( yes I did that and he still owes me $250 for the session I was dumb & 17 don’t get mad @ me) 

16. if your relationship makes you extremely angry leave, that anger means something, listen to it. 

17. if you are like me and was raised in a very abusive household with parents that constantly abuse you just know that not every relationship is like that and you won’t be like them but, you have to actively work on it not just say it out loud (BUT it does help saying it out loud, v comforting) 

18. if you break up, stay broken up (sometimes it works out for the better if they really want you they’ll try) 

19. NEVER LET YOUR PARTNER’S MOM DICTATE WHERE YOU GO TO COLLEGE TRUST ME YOU WILL REGRET IT 

20. if you are begging for the basics leave 

21. if they ignore your food allergy leave 

22. if they’re a mama’s boy please leave 

23. if they ignore your fears leave 

24. if they think violence is casual and necessary for relationships leave 

25. listen to their ex’s even if you take it with a grain of salt please listen 

26. if you need to come up with an escape plan you’re in a toxic and possibly abusive relationship 

27. it’s okay if you don’t have the courage to leave right now but know, you can’t stay forever 

28. if they use past trauma against you, leave. 

also a word of advice for friends who know people who have been in DV situations

1. if we trauma dump just know we are sorry but please stop us and talk through it later (if you can) 

2. don’t ask why they didn’t leave sooner it’s not your buisness 

3. we don’t know we are being abused, if you know but we don’t please be patient. The mind is a tricky thing. 

4. DO NOT SAY “how did you not know” “you’re stupid for not knowing” “you’re making it up” “told you so” or anything else condescending, we feel stupid and we just want support 

well that’s all I have folks! Thank you tumblr for all the laughs and all the cringe.  I hope this post is insightful and please feel free to add on.

love <3 

Punk-Rock-Uncle :) 

#tw: mental health #cw: suicide #drugs cw #cw: drugs #tw: rape #cw: abusive relationships #cw: abuse #personal

[toothpastecanyon]

Mizar the Mediocre, Chapter 1

Alcor gets a summons from a strange Mizar. Maybe there's still something to recognise, here.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

Mizars. Alcor had known so many of them through the ages, and he’d seen that they tended to follow a theme. They were somebody bubbly. Somebody spontaneous. Somebody who stood out from the crowd. He’d seen Mizars who were doctors, lawyers, adventurers, cultists, demon hunters, people who led radically different lives from Mabel… but there was always something to recognise.

And he liked that.

______________________________________________________________

You’d think a place nicknamed ‘Sin City’ would get a lot of visits from Alcor, but he’d been to Las Vegas relatively few times. Maybe he just wasn’t the demon that came to mind when one was down on their luck in the casinos… regardless, he was mildly interested to find a summons drawing him there, and he was  very  surprised when he realised what soul was summoning him.

A Mizar? Huh. Well, he’d better go see what she wanted.

The first thing that caught his eye was the view. They were high up in some sort of hotel room, and the tall windows opened wide to cloudless skies above and the sprawling city below. The carpet was zebra print - it made his eyes vibrate a little - and the two perfectly laid double beds looked like they’d never been touched by a living being, much less slept in. A school bag slumped at the foot of the further one.

Alcor frowned. There were a couple of candles encircling him, but no chalk… and no summoner, it seemed. It didn’t take long to find out where they went; there was a gasp from behind the bed, and he quickly floated over.

“Hello?” Alcor saw his summoner huddled against the bedframe, clutching a metal tray to his chest. “Mizar?”

Mizar was… certainly different this time round. He looked like he was in his forties, balding, dressed in a leopard print dressing gown and pink camo crocs. He squeaked when he saw Alcor floating over him, and cowered under his tray.

“Why aren’t you in your circle?” He pressed himself up against a bedside table. “The website said you were going to stay there!”

Alcor blinked. “Uh… you didn’t draw a binding circle, dude. You didn’t even draw a summoning circle.”

“Don’t blame me! I tried, but it just wasn’t working on the carpet, so I thought I’d wing it, and-”

“You thought you’d wing it? Wing a demon summoning?!” Alcor watched him curl up tighter. He pinched his nose. “Okay, well, I’m here now, and lucky for you, I’m not going to hurt you. What do you want?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Mizar peeked up at him from behind his tray. “You’re not gonna hurt me?”

“No, you got very lucky. You should never summon a demon without a containment plan; other ones wouldn’t hesitate to-”

“Oh, that’s great news!” He popped up and tossed away the tray with a giant grin. “Ashley’s gonna love me for this!”

“Ashley?”

“My daughter! She loves demons - watches that Magical Mizar show of yours all the time. She’s not gonna believe that I got the real Alcor the Dreamlender to show up!”

“She- wait, Dreamlender? It’s Dreambender!”

“Oh, it is?” He tied up his dressing gown. “Huh, guess I misread it. Well, anyway, wait there for a second, will ya?” Then he turned towards the bathroom at the other end of the room and called, “Oh, Ashley! Sweetie? You there?”

There was no reply. The man shot Alcor a nervous smile.

“She, uh, said she wanted some alone time to chat with her friends - but that was a whole fifteen minutes ago, I’m sure she’ll come out any second now! Ashley, darling?”

In the awkward silence that followed, Alcor just stared. This… was Mizar? This was where his sister’s soul had ended up? In this weird older guy whose aura tasted of cheap motel food and desperation?

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. This guy was probably cool, somewhere. He cracked a smile.

“So, uh… what’s your name?”

“Hmm? Oh, I suppose I didn’t introduce myself yet!” The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Martin! But you can call me Mart. Mart the Fart. That’s what my ex-wife calls me, it’s, uh… it’s all in good fun!”

“Okay…” Alcor took his hand, and then frowned when Mart put an arm around him. “Are you trying to steal my wallet?”

“Whaaaat? Noooo… I just, uh, I wanted a hug!”

He rolled his eyes at that, but before he got a chance to reply, a scream rang out from the front of the room. Mart jumped up.

“Ashley?”

“Dad, run!” A terrified teenager had flattened herself against the front door; she stabbed a finger at Alcor. “That’s - demon! Oh my stars!”

“What? Oh, Ashley, sweetie, it’s okay! I summoned him!”

“You…  what?”

“He’s with me, it’s fine!” Mart tried to jump over a bed, but tripped on his robe and fell down the other side. “Ow, uh, yeah! Surprise!”

“Wh- Surprise?!” 

“Cause you like Magical Mizar, right? He’s the Alcor actor!”

Alcor winced at the waves of horror-turning-to-fury coming off of Ashley. He raised a hand. “Uh, just for the record, I’m not planning to hurt anyone. Also I didn’t actually act in Magical-”

“What the fuck, Dad?! You put everyone’s lives in danger just so you could reference some stupid show?”

Mart’s smile froze on his face. “Uh… do you like it?”

Alcor cringed. Bad question. Bad, bad question.

“No!” She snapped. “Absolutely not! I haven’t even watched Magical Mizar since I was, like, six! It’s like you don’t even fucking know me!”

“Sweetie, I-”

“Just leave me alone!”

With that, she slammed the door in his face. Mart stood there for a second, then shot Alcor a nervous smile.

“Uh… teenagers. Wow.” He jabbed his thumb at the door. “You know, she must’ve learned those four letter words at her mother’s place. Which is fine! I just, I didn’t teach her those.” He tried for a chuckle. “Surprising.”

Alcor pursed his lips. “Yep,” he said, in the ensuing silence. “Very surprising.”

______________________________________________________________

They ended up watching TV for a little while. Mart sat on the bed and started flicking through channels, and Alcor - seeing no obvious summons in need of his attention - awkwardly floated in the corner of the room.

“Ugh, golf. Bor-ring. Let’s find something exciting, right, Alcor?”

He tried to keep his eyes on the screen, but they kept straying down to the man in the leopard print dressing gown… the Mizar in the leopard print dressing gown.

“Oh, My Strange Curse is on!” Mart pointed to the TV. “You heard of this show, buddy? I saw an episode once where a guy got cursed so that nobody would believe a word he was saying. I thought it was kinda fake, but hey, it’s a fun bit of reality TV!”

“I see.” Alcor stared at the screen, where a guy was talking about how everything he ate randomly turned into Christmas ornaments. “So what do they do in the show? Do they hire cursebreakers to come in and help them?”

“No? They sorta… just talk about how weird their curse is for thirty minutes then say they should do some exercise and eat better. It’s… it’s kinda mean, actually.” He changed the channel. “Let’s watch something else. Ooh, Babyfights!”

Alcor rolled his eyes, but he looked up at the sound of a door creaking open. Ashley was peeking out of the bathroom; her eyebrows raised a little when she caught sight of him floating in the corner of the room, but she didn’t scream again. After a moment, she closed the door behind her, and came walking over to sit on the other bed.

Mart didn’t seem to notice, so he cleared his throat.

“Hi.” He tried for a wave. “Ashley, right?”

“Wh-? Oh, Ashley! Hi, sweetie!”

“Hi, Dad.” Ashley’s eyes flitted over to Alcor. “So, uh, is he just a thing, now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is the big, all-powerful demon floating on the ceiling just hanging out with us now, or what?”

“Oh, Alcor?” Mart looked up at him, and shrugged. “I mean, I’m okay with it! The more the merrier, right?”

Ashley didn’t say anything to that. He gave an awkward smile. “I can leave you guys alone if you want.”

She kept staring at him for a second, her eyes dull, her lips turned down, her aura grey and guarded. Finally, she turned away, and looked to the TV.

“Whatever.”

And they sat there, for a little while. Nothing much happened. Mart looked over at Ashley and smiled, but she was looking down at her phone all of a sudden. He went back to flipping through channels.

Alcor twiddled his thumbs. He looked outside, at the great big city just outside this little room. Las Vegas looked strange in the middle of the day; the neon lights were dulled, the concrete bleached by the desert sun. There was barely any green, barely any relief from the greyish-white that stretched all the way to the mountains far in the distance. Without the cover of darkness, the City of Lights just looked… sad. Bland. Out of place.

Boring.

He looked over at Mart and Ashley. “Hey,” he started, and tried for a smile. “So, uh, what do you guys do here, usually?”

“Huh?” Mart looked up and grinned. “Oh, in Vegas? What can’t you do? It’s my favourite place on earth!”

“Dad likes the casinos.”

“Not just the casinos, sweetie.” He cracked a grin. “Though those are pretty good. There’s tons to do here!”

Alcor cocked his head. “Like what?”

“Well, there’s, there’s a restaurant downstairs. Serves really nice food.” Mart pointed at the phone. “You can even get it delivered up here!”

“Dad, I think he was asking about stuff you can do  outside  the casino.”

“Oh? Oh, yeah, you can do stuff outside too! There’s… um…” he scratched his head. “Oh, there’s like a cool water show every night! I took Ashley there once, it was really pretty, I loved it.”

“It was alright.”

“Yeah!” He grinned at her. “We should do that again sometime!”

“Ehh.”

“No? Oh, that’s okay too.”

Alcor looked over at Ashley. “What do you want to do?”

“Me?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t care. I’ll probably just, I dunno, be here. Why?”

“I was just curious.”

She gave him an odd look at that, but before she could say anything else, Mart suddenly let out a loud laugh.

“Oh, my stars, look at this!”

“What?”

“They’ve got a mini golf tournament on TV!”

Alcor cocked his head. “You like mini golf?”

“Oh, yeah! I used to work at a mini golf course - they even let me sleep in the windmill!” He pointed. “Like one of those! Except it was smaller. And not that clean. And you had to know where to lie, so the nails wouldn’t... the pros always have more of a budget, y’know.”

“I see.” He smiled, despite himself. “So I bet you’re pretty good at it?”

“Am I good? Well, I don’t wanna brag, but I’d say I’m pretty c’est la vie at it.” Mart shot him a grin. “Why’d you ask? You think you can beat me, Mr Dreamputter?”

“He probably can, Dad.” Ashley didn’t look up from her phone. “Don’t start betting stuff.”

“Wha- oh, hah! You know me too well, sweetie. Don’t worry, I  totally  wouldn’t do anything crazy, like… bet a demon fifty bucks I can beat him in a round of mini golf.” He winked at Alcor. “Unless he wants to make things interesting.”

Just the sight of that sleazy grin made Alcor’s demon instincts go into overdrive. He grit his teeth. “I was thinking it’d be… more of a friendly game.” He managed, resisting the urge to take the easiest deal he’d seen in ages. “What do you two think?”

“Aww. Well, I’m still up for it!” Mart sat up and looked at his daughter. “Ashley, sweetie, you got your phone out. Think you could google where the nearest course is?”

“Mhm.”

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, just… move stuff around if you need to.” Mart pulled his seat forward to let Alcor in. “Sorry, backseat’s a bit of a mess. I wasn’t expecting a friend!”

A ‘bit of a mess’ was an understatement, Alcor thought as he shoved a mountain of scratch cards into the middle seat. All the legroom was taken up by crumpled hawaiian shirts and neon-coloured jeans; they gave off a faded but still-distinct stench of alcohol. He was almost afraid to move them aside.

“Alright, sweetie, seatbelts! You good back there, Alcor!”

“Yeah?” Alcor pulled a sleeping bag out of the way. “Why do-”

“Camping! I don’t sleep in my car.”

He blinked. “Uh-”

“Just, heh, wanted to make that clear. I don’t sleep in my car.” He reached over and patted Ashley’s shoulder. “Your old Dad’s doing great for himself, don’t you worry about a thing, uh… mini golf! Yeah! Let’s addios!”

Mart peeled off and took a hard right out of the parking lot, burying Alcor in scratch cards.

“Hey, Ashley! Put on my good tunes, will you?”

“No.”

“Hah, uh, alright! I’ll do it myself.”

A stream of loud pop music filtered into the back seat. Alcor perked up at the voice.

“Is this…?”

“Marcia Sinderson’s greatest hits, volume twenty-one?” Mart turned up the volume. “I found it in a bargain bin a few months back - I don’t even think she was alive when they made half these tracks but I love it!”

The music did contain a lot more  ‘whoaaa’ s than lyrics, but Alcor chuckled when Mart rolled down the window and started singing along. Ashley sank into her chair, groaning.

This was… interesting, he thought. Strange in many, many ways, but somehow… familiar. And he liked that.

He’d missed hanging out with his Mizar.

#transcendence au #martin #toothwrites #not beta read

[festivegrant]

You said 4A finale fell flat and I agree but I’m just curious in which ways did it fall flat for you? To me, I guess I was expecting some type of cliffhanger. Didn’t have to be scary or intense, I just expected something. And yeah that could have been Maddie going into labor. And I know people can debate until the end of time about Eddie and Ana but personally I have no problem with them like overall, if you stand back and look at the big picture. Eddie is trying to move on and Ana seems sweet and smart and nice but when you step closer and look at it, Eddie to me seemed so out of character in that episode. He was doing things that he wouldn’t normally do. Like, ok you went on maybe 2 or 3 dates with her and even after your son throws a fit you still think it’s ok to introduce her to him that soon? And also in the middle of a pandemic?? When his son is high risk and his son hasn’t even seen his friends or other family (I’m assuming). It just seems out of character. And before anyone comes for me, I’m fine with Eddie moving on and getting into a relationship. He could literally date anyone and I wouldn’t care as long as he’s happy. And maybe that’s the point of all of this- to show he’s trying to move on but Ana isn’t the one. Maybe she is and I’m a clown but I don’t personally see it. She’s lovely but I don’t see it. Buck and Taylor was interesting though. I’m all for them being friends because both of them seemed to have matured

glad you asked! my response ended up longer than i’d anticipated so i’ll put it under the cut:

i FOR SURE expected some sort of cliffhanger. i mean, tbh overall the episode didn’t really stick in my head that much? the most cliffhanger-y thing we got was hen and karen not being able to adopt nia (heart-wrenching but good narrative choice) although i would have liked for them to really dig it in and indulge us in more wilson family moments before ripping it from our grasp. i love to suffer <3 and i just think that if we had had a scene where the madney baby is born that would have been such a bittersweet contrast?? like actually watching it would have destroyed me and i probably wouldn’t have liked it bc it would have made me sad but since im playing god on this website it WOULD have been fantastic narratively and i WILL pretend i wouldve liked it.

buck and taylor was cute (and I LOVE their banter), but i kind of feel like the sudden friendliness came out of nowhere?? @benjji2795 made a post about this a little bit; taylor never apologized for what she did to bobby, so it doesn’t totally make sense for buck to be so nice to her?? however i love taylor and im glad she’s on the show. one of two things should’ve happened: she apologizes to bobby and wham bam now her and buck are besties with a fun dynamic (note FRIENDS, not romantic partners, because they have different priorities and are canonically not romantically compatible!! and thats okay!!) OR her reoccurrence on the show is established as some sort of antagonistic ally. i think that would be so fun.

okay okay i have my own thoughts on eddie and ana and that whole situation. let me split this up to make it legible:

on eddie being out of character:

something was definitely wrong this episode. him introducing ana to chris does not sit right (for ALL the reasons you mentioned, which I completely agree with). As far as i’m concerned, there are two possible reasons:

eddie was just plain ooc and it was due to bad writing. it makes me disappointed, but i think this is the one that’s most likely.

eddie was in character, but he was jsut the worst side of his character. someone made a post about it that i found pretty interesting. idk if i completely agree with it bc to say that eddie introduced ana to chris so she could fill what eddie thinks is an empty space in their lives sort of undermines the whole talk he had with bobby the scene prior. 

HOWEVER this interpretation also gives ana the opening to have narrative agency and set boundaries for herself and tell eddie she likes him but she didn’t sign up to be a mom. but i don’t think the writers (or r*an, because he sucks and is also not that great of an actor) are thinking that deeply about his character (but maybe they are. who knows).

on ana:

i’ve said this before and ill say it again. the way she’s set up to be both disliked by the audience (because she’s so blad) and disposable to the narrative (because she’s so bland!!) makes me upset. she literally doesn’t deserve that and it’s disturbing to watch (both onscreen and in fandom reactions). i don’t know what else to say except i hope she either gets a well-written, significant story arc or she leaves the show soon. i don’t want to see her being a romantic accessory anymore. 

also i think she’s cute but that’s just gabrielle walsh kjdsfl

on eddie and ana together:

okay i agree that a relationship is necessary for eddie to be able to move on. like i get that. i agree. it’s part of his growth. here’s the problem with that though. 

the WAY the show handles eddie moving on is very blatant. it is very streight forward. ‘oh, he’s moving on? new girlfriend!’ the thing is, they kind of forgot to give said girlfriend a personality (see above). and BECAUSE OF THAT (or, at least, it’s a contributing factor) they have no chemistry and are terrible to watch onscreen. 

i tried to like them. i really did. i tried to frame it as ‘hey, theyre jsut two people who have crushes on each other and we can watch them flirt and yadda yadda and itll be cute, right?’ ive made posts about their dynamic together and trying to find an angle to make it fun. but i cant. i literally cant do this anymore. i actually cringed at nearly every scene they had together. it was unpleasant and boring and i would love it if it were over soon. if the creators are seeking to both produce a good/entertaining and moving show AND keep eddie and ana together, i’m curious to see how they do it because i truly have got nothing for them. 

anyways. In conclusion, I’m only emotionally investing myself in the wilson family, the grant-nash family, the buckley-han family, and fanfiction-based buddie :) <3

#this was sooo long #and i didn't even talk about buddie! well this is all buddie aside #ask #anon #911 fox #also i made like thirty edits because tumblr formatting hates me so if you see a different version after my initial posting that's why

[raisedbyfandomwolves]

I have a prompt if it’s not too long! Supergirls phone gets stolen and CatCo post her text messages and they just can’t figure out who the 😏 (Mon-El) contact is. Thank you! -Cassie

Hi! Sorry this took so long and I’m not sure if this is what you envisioned when you sent me this prompt but I hope you like it!

--------

Kara's made mistakes; she knows it and she's not so proud that she won't admit it.

There have been big mistakes – thinking she can take on a rampaging Buroul without backup definitely counts – and little mistakes – picking up the wrong order and getting yelled at for it by Ms Grant for a whole hour – but no matter what, she's owned up to every last one of them.

This time though... This time, she really wishes she could just blame it all on someone else.

Maybe Alex. Alex had been the one who had given her the second phone in the first place, after all. “Consider it a necessary backup now that you have a second job,” her adoptive sister had said as she had handed over the device. “You never know when you'll need it.”

That moment had never really materialised and, minus checking the few DEO alerts that had gotten sent to it, Kara had ended up just using it when her own phone's battery was low or for random things like downloading games Winn had recommended trying.

And occasionally texting Mon-El.

It's a bad habit she shouldn't have allowed to take root, she realises in hindsight, but at the time it had seemed pretty harmless. She's a careful person, after all, and keeping track of two phones is a simple enough thing to do.

At least, that's what she had believed.

Right up until she had gotten into a huge brawl with a couple of alien mercenaries downtown and lost that phone somewhere between getting punched into a building and having a car tossed at her head.

Which in itself would've been fine if she had noticed and retrieved it before she had left.

Of course, she hadn't done that... and someone else had found it instead.

Someone who had managed to figure out that the phone belonged to Supergirl... and posted the texts all over the internet.

The internet had promptly and predictably imploded.

And now here she is, hiding from the rest of the world face down on her couch and alternating between cursing herself for her carelessness, trying not to die of embarrassment and wishing she had a combination of Winn's hacking skills and J'onn's telepathic powers just so she can destroy all the evidence and erase everyone's memories then pretend none of this ever happened. (Her one saving grace – whatever it's worth anyway – aside from the fact that she'd put a silly smiley instead of Mon-El's name and consequently protected his identity is that their texts had been more sweet and mushy instead of scandalous and inappropriate although some of his had definitely counted as suggestive in nature.)

In short, Kara is nothing less than a giant Kryptonian-shaped ball of shame and suffering at the moment.

The same, however, cannot be said for Mon-El, who had readily surrendered his own phone once they had realised it had been indirectly compromised and is now using her laptop to keep track of the madness with a gigantic grin on his face.

To say that he's the complete opposite of her and is actually enjoying this entire fiasco would be an understatement.

“'Supergirl's Superboyfriend?'!” he reads out yet another atrocious headline from some gossip website with the exuberance of a kid in a candy store. “Hey, maybe I should adopt that as my superhero name.”

“Absolutely not.” Her words come out muffled thanks to her current position so she forces herself to lift her head just enough that she can glower at him. “Again, no. It's mortifying. Don't you have any shame? And wouldn't you prefer to have a superhero name that's completely your own instead of one that's so... so... connected to me?”

“Daxamite,” he reminds her as he meets her almost lethal glare, his free hand pointing at his still grinning face that she very dearly wants to throw a pillow at right now. “As for your second question, I'd consider it an honour so I really wouldn't mind.”

“Well, it's mortifying for me then!” she growls, her cheeks burning so much she wonders if her face resembles a fire hydrant at the moment. “And I don't understand why you're so interested in all this! Didn't they have gossip back on Daxam?!”

“Nothing like this. I mean, everyone pretty much knew who everyone was sleeping with-” She cringes at that and turns a darker shade of red. “-so the gossip was more about other things like who'd gotten caught cheating at cards- Oh, CatCo's put out an article too!” he cuts himself off to announce the latest update, somehow managing to sound even more delighted than before. “And look, your boss even wrote it herself!”

A miserable groan escapes her and she buries her face in her couch again. Ms Grant had been beyond livid that someone had out-scooped her about Supergirl, never mind the fact that it had been the result of a complete accident, and Kara can only imagine what the woman has written much less planned next.

Luckily for her, Mon-El decides it's his duty to share the 'pertinent' details with her. “Wow, she managed to guess that I'm an alien too and there's even a photo of us although it's kind of blurry...” He laughs. “The comments are even better. They're saying I must be 'a real hunk' and 'totally ripped' among other things.”

Aghast, she raises her head again to stare at him, a confusing mixture of incredulity and possessiveness clouding her mind. “Why would they even be talking about that kind of thing?!”

“Well, you're Supergirl,” he replies with a faux sage-like voice although it's beyond obvious he's suppressing one hell of a smug grin. “It's only natural to assume you have excellent taste in men.”

She gurgles for over a minute, unable to vocalise a single coherent word due to being at a complete loss as to how to respond. Denying it feels wrong but agreeing is just unthinkable especially since he'll be obnoxiously self-satisfied about it until the end of time... and judging by the way he's now openly grinning at her, he knows it.

Stuck between two unpalatable choices, Kara opts to take a third option and drops her head back down again. Maybe if she gives it enough time, this will all just blow over and she can get on with her life like nothing had ever happened.

The laugh full of impish glee that bursts out of Mon-El just as she finishes that thought suggests she's not getting her wish anytime soon... and what he says next only confirms it in the worst possible way. “Hey Kara, guess what? Apparently it's called 'supersex' when we do it!”

...Screw this. National City can go find itself a new superhero; she's leaving Earth and never coming back.

(Eventually Winn is able to make it seem as if the texts had been part of someone's roleplaying account, whatever that's supposed to be, but it's still a good long while before Kara can bring herself to look any of her family and friends in the eye.)

#karamel #prompt fic #cassier556

[camillemontespan]

confident camille [interview!]

I really really hope you like this. I was planning to release this in like two weeks but I feel I can’t add anymore to this piece. I really enjoyed writing this one, like ridiculously enjoyed. It felt like sitting down with a friend - and I know that’s weird but I guess that I’ve been writing Camille for so long now that she does feel like a friend. 

Imagine this is a magazine spread :)

I’m so excited to publish this one. Not because I think it’s good but because this is Camille right here. 

@moonlightgem7​ @ibldw-main​ @emichelle​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @katedrakeohd​ @loveellamae​ @mskaneko​ @gardeningourmet​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @sirbeepsalot​ @dcbbw​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @saivilo​ @notoriouscs​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @pug-bitch​ @dcbbw​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @burnsoslow​ ***************************************************************************************

The Duchess of Valtoria is in a chatty mood. As she poses for photographs for our cover story, Camille takes breaks to ask the crew how they are, what’s everyone got planned for the weekend and what did we think of the latest Beaumont Bash theme?

She is dressed in a bohemian pink dress which fits the theme of our issue today - confidence. The dress is bright and colourful, just like the woman wearing it. Later, she will be changed into a white shirt and ripped denim jeans with heels, and more pictures will be taken. Our creative director wants Camille’s confidence to shine from the page; looking at the images, we agree that our vision has come to life.

When Camille finally gets a moment to sit down with a cup of coffee, she changes into jeans and a loose fitting sweater. She hooks her denim clad legs up beside her and settles in for our interview. She looks upbeat and happy, her smile making the corners of her eyes crease, a smile that is genuine. 

It’s remarkable to me that despite the current press attention - which has been intrusive and negative - Camille is still smiling. She must have really thick skin.

'I’ve learned to block a lot of it out,’ she admits. 'At the end of the day, only you know who you really are, not anyone else. I don’t listen to those who say I’m the worst Duchess in Cordonia or that I’m a bad mom. I get on with it.’

And she certainly has been doing that. For the past ten years, Camille and her husband, Drake, have fielded negative press. Yes, they have also been subjects of positive articles and they are much loved in Cordonia; but there are still many traditionalists who make a point of slating them. 

Previous negative news stories have focused on Drake being too vocal about men’s health, Camille being too ‘fake’, their decision to have their daughters study at a ‘normal’ school (i.e one where they are the only noble students) and the couple implementing a restraining order against the paparazzi. While news outlets condemned the couple, Drake and Camille carried on with their daily lives.

I ask what led to their decisions, starting with the restraining order.

'Our daughter, Lily,  was photographed in the school playground when she was five,’ Camille tells me, her eyes flashing. 'That made us incredibly angry and so that set the wheels in motion to get the courts involved. Then when we found out I was pregnant with Luna, that really forced us to evaluate everything.’

I wonder what that entailed.

'Drake and I sat down together at the kitchen table and we set out what we wanted for our family,’ she explains gently, hands spread, justifying herself to me. 'It’s one thing when we are being photographed, you know? That comes with the territory of being Duke and Duchess. But when your child becomes involved.. The child you have tried so hard to protect.. Well, it makes you take a long hard look at everything around you. We felt like we failed Lily and we refused to make the same mistake with our second child. ’

Her voice cracks now. I tell her that they hadn’t failed their daughter but she shakes her head. 'We had,’ she interrupts, her voice thick. 'She was supposed to be safe and when her picture was plastered all over the news, she was instantly vulnerable.’

Drake and Camille are notoriously private when it comes to their family life. Their daughters go to a school where they are the only noble children, a decision that prompted outrage among the aristocracy and media. 

'We wanted them to have a normal childhood,’ Camille says, shrugging. ‘I was born a commoner, as was Drake. The whole royal circus doesn’t fit our personalities and we wanted our kids to just be kids, you know? I think it’s amazing that they have their own friends who are not of noble blood, it’s refreshing. And guess what? The other kids don’t care that Lily and Luna are noble! They literally don’t! They just play and fight and get muddy outside; they exchange leaves as a declaration of love, for gods sake. They’re children.’ 

I get the feeling that their girls  are  little firecrackers. Camille grins. 'That’s exactly the word to describe them. Actually, funny you should say that because Drake calls them his little pocket rockets.’

Drake is the one who first told the press that they were seeking a restraining order against them. He has made no secret of his dislike of the media circus that surrounds his family, yet I wonder why he isn’t here today.

'Because he will get all fiery,’ Camille says, giving me a wink. 'He’s a fiery guy, my husband.’

That is certainly one way to describe Drake Walker. 

‘He is very protective,’ she continues. ‘But he has to be. I guess when I was being stalked on a daily basis, I didn’t want to complain? Like, I thought if I complained about my invasion of privacy then everyone would go ‘oh poor little Duchess in her golden tower.’ I didn’t want to seem.. Ungrateful for my position. And the photographs come with my position so I didn’t say anything. Does that make sense?’

She looks at me with wide eyes. I say it does. She smiles, her shoulders relaxing now. ‘Well, Drake isn’t like that. He saw me being stalked by the paparazzi and it made him so, so angry. He defended me when I wouldn’t defend myself. I was so good at keeping my head down, trying to be a polite and regal Duchess. I wouldn’t make a scene. Drake can’t do that and I’m grateful to him for being the tough one.’

Drake has ensured that whenever his family are photographed, pixels cover their children’s faces. Yet it was a rogue photographer who took Lily’s picture while she was playing in the playground years ago and sold it to the highest bidder. ‘We felt sick to our stomachs,’ Camille tells me quietly. ‘She was only five. So I’m here today to say that I’m tearing up the rule book when it comes to what’s expected of me. I’m not going to sit and be silent anymore; when you target my little girls, I’m like a lioness protecting her cubs. I will go after you.’

She says all of this in a quiet, soft voice but not once does she waver. Since becoming a mother, it is clear that Camille has changed. Gone are the days of when she first came to public attention and wore an innocent smile, winked at the cameras and talked non-stop about New York. She seems more self aware, more reserved, fragile.

‘Oh, this life changes you,’ she confirms, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘One hundred percent. When you have to watch how you appear to the masses, watch what you say.. You have to look out for yourself. I actually cringe when I look back at previous interviews I’ve done and I’m showing the journalist around my dressing room. Like, here’s my new Valentino dress!  I was so new to this shiny world. Uhhh why?! That is not how a duchess behaves! I can totally see it from Bertrand Beaumont’s viewpoint now!’

I admit that Trend does love a look around their interviewee’s closet and the beauty section on our website is partial to a video of a celebrity showing off their make-up routine. Something tells me that Camille wouldn’t take part in this now. 

She has changed, but so has her husband. He used to be in the background at court; now he is at the forefront. Has the change been gradual?

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘But he’s changed for the better. His walls are down, he talks about how he’s feeling which is so, so important. He has his mental health foundation, Mind over Matter, that is going from strength to strength and he is such a good dad. I honestly couldn’t live without him.’

Drake and Camille met during the suitor competition that saw her compete against the other noble ladies of court for King Liam’s hand in marriage. The suitors had to take part in events such as boating and horse riding, while touring the country to show themselves to the public. Camille was the favourite to win; she shocked everyone when she rejected Liam’s proposal, instead choosing to be with his best friend, the one and only Drake Walker.  When did she realise she wasn’t there for Liam anymore?

Camille reddens at my question and clears her throat. ‘I had to be very, very honest,’ she admits. ‘Questions were asked. I guess I realised that throughout the whole thing, the one person I wanted to spend time with was Drake. Okay, you know when you have a big crush and you wake up and the first thing you do is think of them? Or you feel constant butterflies in your stomach that just won’t go away when you talk to them? That was Drake for me. He was it.’

But when did she realise she loved him?

‘When I saw him dancing with someone else,’ she says instantly. ‘I always danced with Liam, you see. But one night, while I’m dancing with Liam, I looked over his shoulder and saw Drake dancing with my friend Kiara and that.. that hurt because Drake never danced with anyone. It was innocent, of course, but I realised that all I wanted was to dance with him. I wanted to dance all my dances with him.’

She shrugs. 

I ask how she feels about Kiara, who is well known amongst the press. Did Camille feel like she was competing for his attention?

Camille blinks. ‘Uh, no,’ she replies. ‘I’ll be honest, I’m a girls girl. I support other women, like with my podcast (more on this later). When I say that it hurt to see Drake dancing with Kiara, it doesn’t mean I didn’t like her. I do like her, very much actually. But I never viewed it as a competition because it wasn’t; if anything, Drake was doing his own thing. I was in a contest to marry his best friend, it would  have been totally unfair for me to want him to ignore other women and just focus on me.’

She is panicking now, trying her best not to say something that will bite her on the ass. I divert back to her feelings about Drake and Liam; how did she feel when she came clean?

‘Like a weight was lifted,’ she says. ‘Once I was honest, I felt like I could move on. It was hard and I felt guilty, but I did feel relief.’

I imagine Drake felt more than relief at landing the girl of his dreams. ‘No,’ Camille muses. ‘He took it really hard actually. He is a glutton for punishment and felt so guilty for betraying his best friend. When I told him I had said no to Liam, he didn’t believe me and when he finally did, he asked why I had done something so stupid..’

I ask her to elaborate. She smiles weakly. ‘Drake used to be really negative about himself. He didn’t believe he was worthy of happiness. But he is so worthy and I’ve worked really hard to make sure his walls don’t come back up and that he talks to me if things start feeling too much.’

Drake has been vocal in the past about his struggle with depression and alcohol. How did Camille feel when she found out? Was she aware of it?

She bites her lip. ‘He was good at hiding it,’ she finally says. ‘I feel like I failed him as I just didn’t realise for a long time. I’m usually so good at understanding people, you know? I can tell when someone is feeling  vulnerable. But it completely blind sided me.’

Did Drake tell her himself? ‘No. He just slipped up. I wish he had had the courage to tell me, but I understand why he felt he couldn’t. He’s a proud man, my husband. He doesn’t like to feel like a burden - not that he is. But there’s only so much shit one person can take..’

 I gently ask Camille how she deals with his demons.

‘You take it day by day,’ she tells me. ‘I don’t force him to be something he’s not. If he’s having a bad day, I leave him to it but at the end of that day, I do sit him down and ask him to talk about how he’s feeling. He attends AA meetings and has therapy. He’s made huge strides in talking about his emotions - he set up his own mental health foundation for God's sake, that’s huge. I’m honestly so proud of him.’ 

Drake has received somewhat narrow minded criticism from male journalists who call him ‘weak’ for discussing mental health issues in men. Apparently, according to some, men in Cordonia are happy and strong, thank you very much. I wonder what Camille thinks of him being the public figurehead of men's mental health, leading the crusade. 

‘I think it’s really brave of him actually,’ she says instantly. She’s clenched her fists and I can see from the ramrod straight position of her back that she has been expecting this line of questioning and is on the defensive. ‘It takes a lot for a man of his position to stand up and admit that he is an alcoholic and suffered from depression. He opened himself up to a lot of scrutiny; he’s such a private person too, so he really was going against his own nature to talk about something that is so important. He’s helped thousands of men in Cordonia because of it.’

She is passionate and fierce when it comes to her husband. Her voice quietens and she wrings her hands together. ‘He’s inspired me to be more brave,’ she murmurs. ‘He’s made me want to stand up for things that matter, to ignore the naysayers and just do my thing. Drake paves the way and I’m just happy to follow in his footsteps.’

They are a refreshing noble couple in that they don’t shy away from real world issues. They make it their mission to spread positivity and reach out to those in need. Camille set up a rehabilitation centre for recovering drug users, a move that many found to be too risky as it would bring up questions about her past, but Camille shrugs it off. 

‘I saw my parents struggle in their battle with drug addiction,’ she says. ‘It’s an issue that’s very important to me.’

We know nothing about her parents except for their drug abuse. Is there anything Camille can tell us today that shines a light on them? Camille bites her lip and hesitates, as if trying to work out if this is a trick question. In the end, she smiles and she clears her throat.

‘My father was called Jacob,’ she begins. ‘My mother was called Gabrielle.’ She laughs to herself. ‘You know Chanel’s perfume Gabrielle? I wear it everyday. Not because it smells beautiful, though it does, but because it’s my mom’s name. I like to think I’m close with her when I wear that scent. You know when you miss your mom so you wear her scarf that smells of her skin? It’s like that. Lily does that with one of my sweaters, she will wear it sometimes when I’m away on business as a way to keep me with her. So, the perfume works like that with me and my mom. We weren’t exactly close when I was a child, so I guess that’s my way of trying to rectify that.’

I ask her which of her parents she is most like. ‘My dad,’ she says, smiling. ‘Before he became an addict, he was the best dad ever. He was also so handsome, so so handsome. He had these beautiful green eyes that shone. My eyes are my mom’s and Drake loves my eyes, right, but I wish I had my daddy’s eyes.’ She says this last part wistfully, as if she’s imagining it. 

She’s being so open right now which is a delight; usually, she doesn’t mention her parents at all. She continues. ‘He was a great cook and he loved to talk to people. If he spoke to you, he would make you feel like you were the only person in the world. He had that gift.’

She tails off. I must admit that Camille has that gift too. I tell her so and her face breaks into a wide grin that crinkles up the corners of her brown eyes. ‘Really?!’ she cries. ‘Oh my gosh, thank you so much. That is really sweet of you.’

It is tragic that this man that she speaks of so highly is no longer here. But she shuts down when she mentions his downfall and so, I move the conversation onto something lighter, such as her new podcast.

Camille rolls her eyes. ‘Are you going to say I’m being a crappy Duchess who doesn’t know her place?’ she teases, gently squeezing my hand. I’m not; I’m actually an avid listener of her episodes and Camille claps her hands excitedly. ‘Aah you’re so kind!’

There has been negative press about the release of Camille’s podcast ‘Working Girl.’ Released last year, the podcast is hosted by the Duchess who interviews women who are at the top of their careers to pick their brains on their career paths, the glass ceiling, women’s opportunities at work and if they have any wisdom to share with the listeners. According to statistics, 80% of listeners are women. Does Camille want male listeners too?

‘Yes,’ she says instantly. ‘I want to close that gap. I want men to listen to these powerful women and re-evaluate everything they’ve been conditioned to believe at work, like women should be paid less or that men can do a better job. I want to challenge the traditional views held by most of Cordonian society - because let’s face it, Cordonia is so, so traditional- and I want to use my voice to make a difference. I’m feeling brave and I’m doing it my way.’

The media has called her ‘out of touch’ with noble life. Because hosting a podcast about women’s rights is apparently not something a Duchess should do. According to the experts of regal life - the tabloids-, Camille must stay in her duchy for all time, under lock and key, pushing out baby after baby after baby, wave politely and must, absolutely,  let the paparazzi take pictures of her anytime they want to. I say this to Camille and she bursts out laughing, a deep throaty laugh that makes you feel warm just by hearing it. 

‘You got it in one,’ she tells me, wiping her eyes. ‘Look, I know I’m not a traditional duchess and my husband isn’t a traditional duke. But we are deliberately like that; we want to challenge convention and make changes from the inside. Drake wants to improve the lives and wellbeing of the men in Cordonia while I want every women at work to feel like they can achieve their ambitions. I want a world where my daughters can get a job and know that they will have a great future there, without being held back by perceived notions about their gender. Men forget that women are strong and powerful; it’s about time we reminded them of that little detail.’

She has clearly been spending a lot of time with Olivia Nevrakis. Camille giggles. ‘She’s one of my interviewees! Oh my God, she’s a riot. She wanted to drink wine during our podcast session and I was like, ‘Liv, it’s 10am,’ and she goes, ‘So?’ I honestly love her.’ 

What made Camille decide to make the podcast? 

‘My friend, Kiara- you know, the Duchess who danced with my husband all those years ago-’ she says with a knowing wink - ‘wanted to land a top job within international trade in the government. But she kept being passed over for men who weren’t as qualified as she was. She was literally told by an interviewer that she should just settle down and be a Duchess. It was rude. I spoke to our friends, like Olivia, Hana and Penelope, and we were all in agreement that we wanted to do more with our roles. We have this amazing platform to make a change and I realised that if Kiara, who is fluent in four languages and has an incredible education, is struggling to land the job of her dreams, how many more women out there are in the same boat? So, Working Girl was set up.’

It is a great podcast. It fires you up and makes you feel like you can take on the world. I literally went out and bought a power suit after listening to her fiery discussion with Olivia. I ask her if Drake listens to it.

‘Of course!’ she cries, her eyes widening. ‘Oh, he is so supportive. If I’m researching another women to interview, he will give me suggestions. He suggested Salma Hayek but I think that’s only because he has a huge crush on her.. I contacted her people, just waiting to hear back. I’d love to see Drake go all nervous and tongue tied! I wouldn’t blame him.’ 

She laughs and then goes back to being serious. ‘Yes, he listens. He tells me that if he is away in another country and it’s a different time zone which means I’m asleep, he will listen to my podcast so he can hear my voice.’ 

Her voice is like caramel; it can be quite husky in places but soft in others. She has the right voice for recording podcasts; if she wasn’t a Duchess, I’d suggest she host a radio show.

Moving on from women, we begin to chat about her daughters.  I tell her that looking at Drake, you can’t imagine him being the type to have daughters. He has always talked about his love for the outdoors, getting muddy. I can’t see his daughters being excited by mud. Lily is ten, while Luna is five; they are the spitting image of Camille. 

‘Ah, but you forget that they are half Walker!’ Camille tells me, laughing. ‘Lily is a daddy’s girl and she loves getting outside with him. She likes camping and hiking. When she was younger, she was always collecting frogs.. Seriously, she had a frog collection in our garden and she gave them all names. My older daughter may be really girly but she is also a little rough and ready. I wouldn’t have her any other way.’ 

What is Luna like? Are they close or is the age difference tricky?

Camille considers this. ‘Luna is very different to Lily,’ she says. ‘Yes, obviously the age difference means they are at totally different stages of life but they are close; Lily really looks out for her sister. In terms of personality,  Luna is quieter and quite reserved. Like, when Lily was her age, she was bounding around, a firecracker, bursting with energy. Luna is not like that. She always has her head in a book, she loves to draw and she hates the colour pink, unlike Lily who adores pink. Her favourite film is Nightmare Before Christmas, which isn’t a typical kid’s film, right? But she loves spooky stuff. I think the fact her name means ‘moon’ is a good indication of her personality. Also, while Lily is more like me, Luna is very much like her daddy.’

I’m surprised by this. In what way, I ask.

‘She is very observant,’ Camille explains. ‘Even as a baby, you could tell she was always looking around the room, at the people around her, trying to suss them out. Drake was the same; he’s good at reading people just from always being the background when he was young. She also has quite a dry sense of humour which is rare in a five year old. Like, the other day she accidently broke one of Lily’s necklaces and handed it to her with a totally blank face and went, ‘Oops.’ Deadpan. I’m really curious to see what she will be like when she’s older. I got a feeling she isn’t going to take any shit.’ 

She smiles now. ‘I love her so much.’ 

I ask if Luna enjoys camping too. After all, if she prefers to read books, maybe camping isn’t her scene. 

‘Make no mistake,’ Camille says, ‘Luna loves camping too. Drake has succeeded in his mission to make his daughters love the outdoors! Dad of the Year Award coming up, he would probably say.’

Can she see a son in their future?

Camille shrugs. ‘Maybe? Who knows. We haven’t really discussed it; I think Drake has resigned himself to a life of tea parties. But if we did have a son in the future, we would call the baby Jackson after Drake’s own dad. Lily, Luna and Jackson. It sounds nice, right?’

They are a close family unit. I ask what they get up to in their downtime, as surely being Duke and Duchess takes it out of them. 

‘Sundays are our day,’ she confirms. ‘That’s the morning when the kids barrel into our bedroom at 8am, excited to greet the day because it means they can spend all the time with us without school or our meetings getting in the way. I read the paper or drink my coffee in bed, while Drake and Lily play on top of us. Luna snuggles into me and  tries to read the articles too, though she is still learning so she won’t understand it all. We’re all squished up together. It’s claustrophobic, it’s messy, it’s elbows in faces, but I love it.’ 

She pauses for a moment with a thoughtful expression on her face. ‘If I’ve learned anything from ten years of marriage, it’s the moments in between that count.’ 

I ask her what that means, hoping she will impart wisdom for me to absorb and apply to my daily life. Camille smiles. ‘My husband loves the moments in between,’ she explains softly. ‘It’s when you take a moment to yourself and do something that gives you joy and peace. Like, drinking a glass of whiskey by the fire. Or getting lost in a deep conversation with a friend. It’s carving that little space for yourself to just.. Be.’

Drake sounds quite philosophical, I tell her. Camille giggles. ‘He is! When I first came to Cordonia and we hung out, we had those moments. If I needed to escape the competition for an hour, get out of the claustrophobic bubble we were in, Drake was there. He would take me to dive bars or to pizza restaurants. It was a sense of normality and calm amongst the chaos. It helped me to focus on myself and enjoy those little moments that Drake gave me.’ 

Did Drake know what he was doing?

‘Absolutely,’ she says with a firm nod her head. ‘He knew I was feeling pressure. He can read people really well, you see. Years of being on the sidelines at court taught him to judge situations and people. He can see a fraud from a mile away. He could see me with a fake smile on my face as I took part in the competition and he knew I was feeling like a fish out of water.’ 

I ask if Camille viewed herself as a fraud, noting the vitriolic way she is now speaking.  She sighs. ‘I felt like a fraud, yes,’ she replies. ‘I hated lying and acting like I was wanting to win. It was exhausting. It was hard keeping my feelings down. I can’t do that. I’m a really emotional person, I wear my heart on my sleeve.’

She is clearly talking about her hidden feelings for Drake. I remember her telling me that she felt relief when the truth came out; I see now that her feelings for the king’s best friend were her burden. 

‘I’m glad Liam is still my friend,’ she says, keeping her voice steady. ‘I got to say, it would never have worked between us.’ She laughs now and the matter is shut down. 

I shift the conversation back to the restraining order. Unless you have been living under a rock for the past ten years, Camille had been stalked by paparazzi practically everyday. Pictures had been taken of her in her car; going for a run in the park; kissing her husband; picking up her daughter from ballet class. Everything she has ever done has been photographed and shared among the media. What was the worst experience that happened to her?

‘I guess it was when I was pregnant with Lily,’ she says after thinking for a long moment. ‘It was terrifying. I would be walking to my car and the photographers would surround me, pushing and shoving. I was scared they would end up pushing me and I’d fall, hurting my baby.. But again, I didn’t complain because I assumed it was part of the royal circus that surrounds the nobility. This shit is what you sign up for, right?’

She fixes me with a steady stare. ‘But it’s not right,’ she continues. ‘It’s disgusting. It is not right for a pregnant woman -or anyone, in fact- to be photographed every single day. I became a commodity. But I was too scared to pipe up and say exactly what I thought; I wasn’t brave. Drake had to do it all for me, he was the one who hired a full security team that would never leave my side. For so long, I thought I could just walk around and be normal. I didn’t realise..’

She breaks off. I hold my breath, waiting for her to speak again. Finally, she does. ‘I didn’t realise I wasn’t normal.’ 

In a way, she isn’t. Her story is not normal. A former waitress from New York who flies to a European country to take part in a competition to win the hand of a future king. The same waitress who defies expectations, wins his heart, but rejects his proposal in favour of someone else. The rejected king gifts her a duchy and a title instead of sending her home packing. She is now a Duchess who is curtseyed to and called ‘Your Grace.’ Her story is not typical of the average American woman. Her story is the stuff of fairytales. 

But what a fairytale. 

To round off our interview, I decide to ask her some lighthearted questions. What is the one thing - not a person- that she can’t live without?

Camille giggles. ‘Ooh hard one,’ she says. ‘But I guess I have to say my Canon camera? Drake bought me it as a present for my 30th birthday because I love taking pictures. I don’t use Facebook, you see, so I don’t have online albums. I use Instagram but it’s not exactly the same, so I like to take actual photos and put them in actual albums. I hate this digital age, I miss the innocent, simpler times of just taking photos and sticking them in a book.’

I ask what she takes photos of. ‘My family,’ she tells me with a smile. ‘I’m always taking pictures of Drake and our girls; Drake hates getting his picture taken usually but when he’s posing with Lily and Luna, they make him laugh and put him at ease just by being their adorable selves.’

What are her hobbies? I imagine she is too tired to even think about hobbies what with her job and all the plates she is spinning, but she shakes her head. ‘I love yoga,’ she answers. ‘Every morning, I practice. Sometimes, Lily will join in with me which is quite sweet.’ 

She likes to read too. ‘I love vintage books. I love an evening by the fire with a glass of wine and a good book. Simple.’

The moments in between?

‘Exactly,’ she says, giving me a nod. 

Does she still find time to visit New York, her hometown? Does she miss it?

‘We go once a year,’ she tells me. ‘Whenever we’re in the states to see Drake’s mom, we will go to New York and just be a normal family. What do I miss? Oh man, I miss the accents, the angry cab drivers, the cronut bakery that was next to my old apartment.. I do love New York.’

One final question. How does it feel looking back on everything and seeing where she is now?

She considers this.

‘This feels like a different life,’ she says softly. ‘I’ve changed; grown up. Back in New York, I was stationary, working as a waitress, trying to get all the tips so I could keep a roof over my head. I wasn’t making a difference, I wasn’t really living..’ She bites her lip. ‘Now, I’m living. I’m feeling braver than I ever have and I think that’s all down to my family.’

Is she happy?

‘I am,’ she tells me, her face breaking into a smile. ‘I’m more confident, I feel more belief in myself, I feel like I’m making a difference. I have two amazing daughters and an incredible husband.’

She nods to herself, her cheeks turning pink as she thinks of Drake. ‘Yeah,’ she whispers. ‘I have it good.’ 

#trr fanfic #camille montespan

[pocketseizure]

Disneybound

Case #0180602. Statement of Ted Nakamura, regarding a strange experience at the Haunted Mansion attraction in Disneyland, California. Statement recorded directly from subject on June 2, 2018.

Jonathan takes the statement of someone whose memories may not accurately reflect the events of his childhood. He then has a short conversation with Martin and learns something (perhaps not so) surprising about Elias.

The events of this story take place after Episode 103, "Cruelty Free" (the one in which Jon reads the statement of a farmer in New Zealand with a monster pig).

( This story is also on AO3. )

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jon cast a level gaze at the American sitting on the other side of the table. He was fit and clean-shaven, and he appeared to be in his early thirties. He wore a wide grin and a bright red shirt depicting Minnie Mouse posing in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Jon sighed and pressed the record button of his tape recorder.

“Statement of Theodore Nakamura – ”

“Call me Ted, please. Or Teddy, if you like. All my friends do.”

“Ted Nakamura, regarding a strange phenomenon he experienced at the Haunted Mansion attraction in Disney World – ”

“Sorry, but it’s ‘Disneyland.’ Disney World is the one in Florida.”

“In Disneyland, California. Statement recorded directly from subject on May 25, 2018.”

“This is exciting! I love the detail you’ve devoted to authenticity. The tape recorder is a nice touch.”

Jon grimaced. “Statement begins.”

A hint of uncertainty crept into Ted’s smile. “I’ve never done this before. Is there a protocol? Maybe some sort of standard introduction I should start with?”

“Just tell me about the incident you came to report. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

“All right, I’ll start at the beginning.”

Ted clapped his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. Jon watched as his eyes made a brief circuit around the densely packed shelves arranged in disorderly rows at the rear of the room before finally coming to rest on one of the objects jammed between the accordion folders and cardboard boxes. He’d witnessed this process often enough that he could pinpoint the object of the man’s attention – a cloudy snow globe with a tarnished metal base. It wasn’t connected to any of the cases on file in the archives, merely something Gertrude had brought back from one of her travels on a whim.

“I guess you could say that I’m not the sort of person who would be the star of a Disney movie,” Ted began. “I’m not an orphan, and I had a happy childhood. My mother was an architect who moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles during the construction boom of the 1980s, and my father went to business school at UCLA and never left. His family is from Seattle, and they made some money in real estate in the 1990s. We’re comfortably middle class, but I went to one of the big public schools in Orange County.”

He paused, seeming to expect some sort of reaction. When it became clear that no such reaction was forthcoming, he continued.

“Even in LA, where everyone tries to stand out, high school was all about belonging to a group. I didn’t have any interest in the grandstanding of my school’s Gay-Straight Alliance, and I didn’t have the looks or the talent for the student theater club, which is where a lot of kids like me spent a year or two on their way out of the closet. Mostly I kept my grades up and my head down as my circle of friends from middle school gradually went their separate ways.

“My mom worked from home, and she made sure our house had the first high-speed internet connection in my neighborhood. I don’t mind admitting that I spent a lot of time online. I posted an embarrassing number of bad stories about cartoon characters on LiveJournal, and I eventually ended up being invited to join a popular Disney fan community moderated by a friend of a friend. All the people I spoke with on the comm were strangers, at least at first, but we gradually got to know one another as we responded to each other’s posts and comments.

“Between one thing and another, we somehow managed to figure out that most of us were the same age. Oddly enough, a lot of us lived in SoCal, so we decided to meet up over the summer at Disneyland. Everyone showed up, and we had a great time. We met again the next summer, and then again after my senior year.

“Nothing bad happened, but I stopped updating my LiveJournal after that. I went to college in New York, got a job in the city, and fell out of touch with most of my online friends.

“I moved back to LA four years ago, not that I do anything glamorous. I manage the back end of a tech company’s website and intranet, mostly database stuff, but I still have an IG account. I started it just for fun, but I joined early and picked up more than a thousand followers in less than a year. Someone suggested that it would be cool for me to visit to Disneyland and post photos, so I thought, why not? Like, I love Disneyland!”

Jon cleared his throat. “And what is this ‘strange incident’ you came to report?”

“Hold your horses, I’m getting to it. It’s important that you know my background, right? What I’m trying to say is that I’d only been to Disneyland three times before. It wasn’t a major part of my life. But it was a good part of my life – that’s important.”

Jon nodded in acknowledgment. “Very well, then. Duly noted.”

“Disneyland was considered to be a little seedy when I was in high school, but it’s gotten fancy in the past ten years or so. It used to be that you could just walk in, but these days you practically have to make an itinerary. So I did some research, got a group of people together, and we went and saw the sights. Everyone wore an outfit to match the style of a character, and we took a lot of pictures. The photos were so popular that I hit 5k followers in less than 24 hours, can you believe it? Everyone and their sister is into DisneyBounding these days, but picking up that sort of following from on-location fashion photos was still a thing you could do in 2015.

“Like I said, I had a happy childhood, but no one ever paid me that sort of attention. It was such a dopamine hit, you have no idea. Or maybe you do?”

Jon grit his teeth. “Please continue with the statement.”

Ted laughed. “Pushy, aren’t you? But that’s all right. It’s weird, but I feel like I can tell you anything. Has anyone ever said that to you before?”

“You’re not the first.”

“Maybe it’s the librarian thing you’ve got going on – or archivist thing, sorry. Puts me right at ease. And I appreciate that. If there’s an adult who willingly goes to Disneyland for fun, especially someone like me, people tend to think that’s creepy. The therapist I was seeing at the time called it ‘Peter Pan Syndrome,’ of all things. I never went to another appointment with her again, but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that I kept going back to Disneyland, usually with friends but sometimes with my boyfriend, who I met on Insta. We bonded while sharing theories about the Haunted Mansion, which is… Well, it used to be my favorite ride in the park. It still is, I guess, but I can’t go on it anymore.

“It took me long enough to get here, but this is the part of my story that should interest you. The reason I like the Haunted Mansion is because it reminds me of my mother, who passed away from a heart attack while I was living in New York. It was very sudden, completely out of the blue, and I never got to say good-bye. I never cared about the Haunted Mansion when I was in high school – we all thought it was cringe for some silly teenage reason that probably involved how awkward it would be if we were in the dark with each other. It wasn’t until I visited the park again as an adult that I finally went on the ride. When I did, I had this sudden flashback to a childhood memory.

“I must have gone to Disneyland with my parents when I was young, because standing in the dark and listening to the music made me recall being on the ride with my mother. This was during the lead-up, before you get in the Doom Buggies and begin the ride proper. I remember being absolutely terrified by what I thought was an endless maze. I felt like that line, after it entered the building, lasted forever. Kids can be like that sometimes, but my memory of this is crystal clear – the corridor genuinely didn’t end. I felt like there were people all around us, there had to be, but somehow it was just me and my mother, alone in the darkness.

“And then I remember that this terrible thing appeared out of nowhere. I’m not sure how to describe it. It definitely wasn’t a person in a costume, but it was too realistic to be the projection of a cartoon, and it was talking to us in voice that sounded like laughter and crying at the same time. Like it was hurt, but it found its pain amusing. Meanwhile, the walls kept stretching, and as they got taller I started to see awful things in the gaps between the ceiling and the floor.

“My mother held my hand the whole time. She kept whispering to me: ‘It’s going to be okay. You are brave, and you are strong. Nothing in here can hurt you.’ Just that, over and over, until the ride was over.

“When we finally got out, I ran straight to my dad, who knelt down on the pavement on the other side of the gate and hugged me. He and my mother both patted my back as I cried. I was so relieved to be outside again that my tears wouldn’t stop.

“My dad seemed confused by how afraid I was. This didn’t occur to me until I started thinking about it much later, but isn’t it strange that he didn’t understand why a young child would be frightened by a scary ride?

“I moved back to LA almost immediately after my mom’s funeral, but Dad became a little distant with me. We were both grieving, and it must have seemed callous to him that I was posting shots of myself at Disneyland on social media right after Mom died. Really I just needed a break from the move, from my job, from mourning, from everything – and I guess a part of me felt like my mother would never die as long as I kept returning to that memory of her holding my hand in the Haunted Mansion.

“My dad eventually moved on and married a younger woman. She would probably be my evil stepmother if my life were a Disney movie, but she’s actually a princess, and I adore her. I spend more time with her than I do with my dad these days, but I’m trying to do better. I thought I could reconnect with him if I took him along with me on a visit to the park, but he turned down my invitation. He told me he enjoyed my photos, but that he had never been to Disneyland and had no interest in going. Too many screaming children, he said.

“That was a surprise to me, so I told him about my memory of the Haunted Mansion. While I was talking, his face went completely pale. I don’t mean that as a figure of speech – it was like all the blood had been drained from his skin.

“He insisted that he had never been to Disneyland with me and my mother, but then he told me something strange. When I was about five years old, we went to visit his family in Seattle. My grandfather had just taken on management of a property in Capitol Hill, one of the old Gothic Revival mansions that used to be common there before the neighborhood gentrified. It was an old house, almost as old as the city itself, but my grandfather was having trouble finding potential buyers. The property had been designed by the student of a famous British architect by the name of Robert Smirke, and he wanted my mother to come take a look. Do a walkthrough, point out any potential areas of interest and value, that sort of thing.

“According to my father, my mother had a bad experience in that house. She refused to talk about it with him or anyone else, and she never went back to Seattle. She took me along with her on her tour of the property, and I was apparently just as upset as she was when we came out, even though my dad says we spent less than ten minutes inside. If I thought this place was the Haunted Mansion, and if the ride at Disneyland evoked such a strong memory, it makes me wonder – what did we see in that house?

“I checked with my grandfather, and he said the property never did find a buyer. The only person who seemed seriously interested was a British woman by the name of Gertrude Robinson. Shortly after she made inquiries, the place burned down. Imagine my surprise when I ran a search and learned that this Gertrude Robinson was employed by an institute dedicated to paranormal research.

“So,” Ted concluded, meeting Jon’s eyes, “I gave you my statement. I hope it will be useful to you. I was wondering what you could tell me in return.”

“Not much, I’m afraid. As you can see, we’re still in the process of organizing our records. We’ll investigate to the best of our abilities and contact you if we learn anything.”

“I would love that, thank you. Well, you have my information so…”

“We’ll be in touch. I believe I see my assistant Melanie hovering around. She used to have a large following on social media herself. I’m sure she’d be happy to show you outside.”

“So you’re from LA,” Jon heard Melanie say as she held the door open. Ted directed his dazzling smile at her, which she returned before allowing the door to slam shut behind them.

“Statement ends,” Jon muttered as listened to their conversation growing fainter. He ended the recording and leaned back in his chair.

“Any thoughts you’d like to share, Martin?”

“Oh, I, um,” Martin stammered. “I didn’t want to interrupt the, you know. The statement.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he emerged from between the shelves.

“It’s fine, Martin. It was a relief. To know that you were listening.”

“I’m sorry, I… What? It was?”

“I’ve never been good with people like that.”

“People like… Wait, excuse me?”

“People who are so…” Jon made a vague gesture to illustrate his point. “Sunny. Bright. Content. When someone comes here to make a statement, they’re usually upset.”

“Ah, right. I can see what you mean. But he looks like he just got back from a trip to the happiest place on earth.”

“The happiest place on earth?”

“You know, Disneyland Paris.”

“Disneyland Paris? They finished construction?”

“A few decades ago, actually.”

Jon sympathized with Ted Nakamura’s father. Between the crowds and the relentless sunshine, he couldn’t imagine a more ghastly location, and by this point he considered himself something of an expert on cursed geography.

“I don’t suppose we’ll have to go there ourselves to investigate,” he said, making an attempt to smile. He failed. His muscles were still tense from the process of taking a statement, and his face felt frozen.

“Really? You… want to go to Disneyland Paris? I suppose I could come too, I mean, if it’s not…”

Jon was alarmed by how red Martin’s face was becoming. Did Martin want to go to a theme park? Jon didn’t know much about Disneyland – or Paris, for that matter – but his childhood had been unusual, to say the least. He’d never asked, but Martin’s family couldn’t have been much if he had nowhere to sleep but down here in the archives. Perhaps he could use a vacation. Perhaps they both could.

Jon turned to face his assistant. “Martin, I…”

“Did someone say Disneyland Paris?”

Jon frowned. “Does this conversation interest you, Elias?”

“I heard you were planning a trip. You really must go sometime. It’s fantastic, quite the experience. I went myself, back in 1996.”

Elias made a quick series of taps on the screen of his phone before holding it out in front of him. Jon and Martin leaned forward to get a better look.

In the photo, Elias was posing next to someone wearing a Mickey Mouse costume. He wore an aloha shirt over denim shorts, and he was grinning from ear to ear. The camera had caught him in the act of pulling a tall man with a square jaw and a severe expression into the frame. The image quality was poor, but the man seemed far too pale for the summer sunshine.

Jon’s frown deepened. “And that is…?”

“Oh, this is Peter. You’ll meet him soon enough, I’m sure.”

“Do you, um. Do you go to Disneyland often, then?” Martin asked.

“Just the once. Peter lost a bet, you see.”

“Right.” Jon couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had a bad feeling about this.

“I wouldn’t mind going back. We could all go together, make an office party of it. It would be fun. You do know what fun is, don’t you, Archivist?”

Martin’s eyes darted between Elias and Jon. “I don’t think it’s safe to…”

“Come now,” Elias interrupted. “Would you have any reason not to?”

“China.”

“Excuse me?”

“China. I need to follow up on a statement, something Gertrude was looking into before she traveled to New Zealand.”

“Excellent. I’m glad that’s settled. I’ll leave you to your preparations, then.”

“Damn it.” Jon clenched his fists on the table as Elias left. A trap had been set, and he’d walked right into it.

“Don’t feel bad,” Martin said, oddly perceptive. After everything they’d been through, Jon was coming to appreciate that about him. “At least we know that Elias is still human. He likes Disneyland, after all.”

Jon wasn’t convinced that a fondness for theme parks qualified someone as being ‘human,’ but what would he know? He had to admit that Elias was right about one thing – it would do him good to get out of the archives.

“Are you really going to China, then?”

“I suppose I am.” Jon removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead.

“I’ve always wanted to go someplace like that, somewhere far away,” Martin said, his eyes darting to the tape recorder on the table. “I’d like to hear about it. If you don’t… If you don’t mind, of course. Maybe I could, I mean, we could go out for a coffee together. After you get back.”

“All right,” Jon replied, replacing his glasses. That would be rather nice, actually. “After I get back.”

#The Magnus Archives #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood #Elias Bouchard #Haunted Mansion #full episode format #canon compliant #ghost stories #my fic

[lokisarmyfirstwarrior]

Rant on SPN finale

Obviously SPOILERS ahead

Whoa, this got a lot longer than I anticipated. And I have a suspicion I forgot to add something, but hey, I had to vent.

I just binged the last few episodes of Supernatural, on a very legal site. It took me quite a few tries to get back into it, because by the time the end came, I thought the show was stupid. And i still kind of think it is, Somewhere around leviathans and cain’s mark it went downhill. It was getting more tangled into itself and the stories weren’t enjoyable anymore. 

So when they announced this is gonna be the last season, I was rather relieved. Yeah, there’s enough episodes to rewatch and have good time reminiscing about the old times. And it lets the show finish on a note that is not the worst out there. 

I still stand by that. Most of the season was boring, predictable in a way. But towards the end, episodes 18 and 19 weren’t bad.

Let’s not comment on Destiel’s weird and awkward confession, during which i had to look away and nervously laugh to survive the second hand embarrassment. It was quite out of place and I think the perfect happiness thing would work out a lot better if it was Dean suddenly realizing Cas is about to sacrifice himself and confess. But hey, we go by bury your gays in this show, so that can’t happen and instead we get a half-assed reaction from Dean, who doesn’t pick up the phone to inform his beloved brother that it was all Chuck’s doing and instead kind of sort of cries. I mean, they could have at least texted Sam it’s the Death, it’s the God, it’s worse. But that’s just my logic and common sense speaking, sorry. I do realize I started this paragraph with let’s not comment, but I had to. 

And maybe this makes me a bad person, but  I am glad, that Sam didn’t get to Eileen on time. Their whole relationship seemed forced, maybe because it was mainly Chuck’s doing, but nonetheless, I wasn’t really on board of that ship.  Besides, if Cas and Dean, don’t get their - hinted at - happy ending, why should Sam and Eileen get one. Because that one’s straight? No, thanks. Not to mention Cas’ death seemed kind of glossed over... I don’t want to get into that, but that was a part I didn’t like in the slightest. 

Jack apparently had to die several times in an episode to be a proper Winchester and catch up on the total deaths count. I love Jack, he is very adorable and Dean’s way of treating him got on my nerves a lot. I’m not saying he should have forgiven him faster or at all. But the kid wanted to sacrifice himself for them - and the world- he could have appreciated it a bit more than saying he is no one or nothing. That was a moment where I lost all hope for Dean.

The first time I thought of Jack becoming God was when they mentioned that somebody has to fill up the place after Chuck and Amara are gone. For some reason, they never really considered Jack to be the one to do it, even before they knew he was supposed to die. Which baffles me, because he proved time and time again, he is on their side and he is good. But whatever, him actually becoming God was probably the best thing to come out of this ending. The worst scene was when Chuck was laying powerless on the ground and they fucking explained step by step what happened. Talk about spoon feeding the audience. I hated that part with flashbacks and all. I’d understand if it were something that happened long time ago and only now became useful, but it all started in the previous episode at most. They super obviously left Chuck to rot, because he deserves it. But it was obvious since the first moment he started talking about it being a poetic ending and Dean being a killer, when Cas just told him he is not... Then a super religious Jack monologue when they brought back the humanity. Although I am not sure who he did bring back. I kept thinking about Eileen and if Sam wouldn’t want to get back to her or something, but apparently he forgot already. 

The 19th episode ended somewhat fanfictiony when you think about it. Just the two of them, free and in peace riding into the sunset while clips from previous episodes flash on the screen. (A lot of them were from Gabe’s episodes, kudos for that) I have seen quite a lot posts about similar ending and with maybe it prolonged for a minute, we could the end with carry on playing in the background. That would have been nice. 

Now, when I watched it, I was about halfway through the season when I googled how many episodes does it have. Because I thought 20 is not enough, I remembered there being around 22 or 23. It showed 20, so I continued watching. When I was watching the 19th episode, I kept thinking, this is a good end, that it was not bad. But I also kept thinking, what is going on, there is another episode. And I read somewhere, that the finale is supposed to be longer, but that part of it was just behind the scenes and stuff. So I thought, the 20th episode I see on the website is that, behind the scenes. I stopped the episode at some point after th drive into sunset started, still thinking there is another one after it when I googled  again season 15 episodes. For some reason it showed 19 and I thought I was robbed of that feeling of THE END at the finish of something that was such a huge part of my life. I was so confused. Then I started the 20th episode, thinking already it is indeed behind the scenes, only to find out there is another episode. 

I did cry at the final ending, but I also kept thinking it was stupid. The whole episode was stupid and completely unnecessary (I mean they spent ten minutes on Dean conversing with Sam, impaled on a pole...). I guess it was the final happy ending. But when Bobby mentioned Cas helped Jack rebuild the heaven, I expected a little more than just a smirk from Dean. I mean, I would have been completely okay if they just hugged reuniting, meaning they had sort of happy ending, with Cas occasionally checking in on Dean. Anything really, after the queerbaiting... But what should I expect after the same person who killed Queliot essentially killed Destiel too. 

Then the whole montage of Sam living his life to the fullest and Dean driving Baby in the heaven. I lost it when they showed Sam’s kid wearing overalls wth his name on it. That was ridiculous. Dean stopped at the most random bridge, just to have a nice shot with the crew I’d guess. And super obviously Sam appers behind him, I could tell and hour in advance (complete exaggeration) that he’s gonna say Hey, Sammy. Because this last season was riddled with bad throwbacks. This particular scene reminded me of The Untamed last scene, which played out very similarly, except way better(Honestly, everything is better, if you like chinese drama, you’ll love this one.  It’s gay, although censored and originates from a book) 

It was as if Dean didn’t deserve to live his life to the fullest on Earth. Maybe they wouldn’t get families if they stayed together and continued hunting, okay I can get over that. But when Sam’s kid told him it’s okay, he can go now, that was some high level cringe. I get it was because Dean wanted Sam to say it to him, but their whole conversation was very cringe at the time. 

Well, I decided that episode 20 does not exist and I do not accept any criticism on that. They could have used Carry on my wayward son in episode 19 and that would have been a better ending.

Thank you for reading through if you’ve read through it all. Thank you.

#supernatural #supernaturalseason15 #supernatural end #supernaturalfinale

[ruels-bucket-hat]

JOKE

part 8 ~ all parts are listed under #joke (master list will be updated soon for website)

Ruel led us back onto the pier. I was soaking wet and honestly regretted not taking my shirt off. It was kind of chilly and I was going to have to walk at least a block with it on to get back to my car. I put my pants on as soon as we got to our clothes. As I was struggling to pull my jeans across my wet skin, I spotted Ruel by the edge of the pier.

My shirt and hair smelled just like the water, which was not a wonderful scent. It was salty and fishy and just bleh. Once I was finally clothed, Ruel walked over to pick up his things. “Just wait here,” Ruel’s voice startled me as I tried putting my shoes back on. “I’m going to have Roger pick us up.”

“Is he taking us the whole one block back to the church?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“That would be ridiculous, if we were going back there I would rather walk,” he replied with a laugh and walked back to the pier’s edge. I watched him as he leaned down and reached for the side, as if he was trying to grab something. I looked down at my wet shirt as if that was the biggest problem as of now. “We can get you some new clothes, you smell horrific.”

I squinted my eyes at his words, “We are at least 8 feet apart, are you sure it’s not your hair you’re smelling?”

He smirked and walked closer to me so there was only a foot between us. His eyes kept contact with mine when he reached for my arm and pulled it up towards him, placing a piece of fabric in my hand. “You can wear my shirt for the time being. I expect it to be washed when you have the chance to give it back.”

“Well how generous of you,” I rolled my eyes, not like he could see it quite well with the darkness that surrounded us.

“Well it is your shirt that is keeping the smell of fish alive,” he backed away and turned around. Jerk. As much as I wanted to go against his words and be petty, I couldn’t stand the wet shirt. Plus he was right- it did smell. Not like I was going to admit that to him. I took off the wet fabric and dropped it beside me. It felt great to take it off. My skin was still wet from it though, which I knew would just make Ruel’s shirt wet once I put it on, but I guess it was better than nothing. I pulled it over my head, the scent of him filling my nose. Once I had it on, it was hung loosely on me. Being that Ruel was practically twice my size, it didn’t surprise me much.

A black van pulled up to the street while Ruel and I were still further up the pier. “Our ride has arrived,” he walked past me. Roger was in the driver’s seat. To be honest, he had a creepy persona about him that kind of freaked me out. Ruel opened the sliding door on the side and jumped in the vehicle. “Guys this is Victoria, our new intel,” he gestured his hand my way. I took that as my que to get in the van.

“Nice cake,” one of the guys in the van hissed. I’ve been catcalled before -I lived in New York City for goodness sake- but the vibe was off here, making me a little more self-conscious. I couldn’t make it obvious that any of the words that came out of these criminals’ mouths affected me. I pushed through and sat in one of the empty seats. Thankfully it was on the end, so I only had to sit by one other person. Roger started the vehicle and moved forward.

“So it’s Victoria?” The blonde beside me asked.

“Tori,” I corrected.

“You don’t look like a Tori,” he countered. I stayed silent after his comment. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond to it. “I’m Luke,” he introduced himself. “That’s Daryl, that’s Bradley, Easton, Roger, Hardy, and Louis,” he pointed to different people in the van. My eyes lingered on Easton for a moment longer than the rest. He had a smirk left on his face from his earlier comment about my butt. “And I’m sure you already know Ruel,” Luke continued.

“Unfortunately,” I muttered. Ruel was moved to the passenger seat, giving Roger directions of where to go. “So who’s the leader?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, who tells you guys what to do,” I attempted to get some information out while I was stuck here.

“Not even a CEO is in charge of the whole company,” Luke replied.

RUEL

“Luke’s not going to say anything, Roger,” I reassured him. His constant worrying was very annoying. I looked in the rear view mirror and found Tori in the reflection. “Besides, the person that would have spilled everything didn’t.”

“I never trusted him, how are you so sure he didn’t mention anything?”

“He may be an idiot, but he’s not that stupid, being that his son is on the line. Plus if Luke suspects she knows anything he would be sure to say something, and we would go out and confront him.”

“You really think Luke can get words out of her?”

“He’s the best we got. Easton would have just been eyeing her the whole time,” I spotted Easton in the reflection. Of course Easton was doing what Easton does best, being perverted. It was disgusting, and not to mention a distraction to his work. He had no self-control, which in the past has proved to be a nuisance. If I had the choice, he wouldn’t be here.

Roger pulled me out of my thoughts, “You want me to pull in the back?”

I looked behind me to the group of people sitting in the van. “Yes, but after I pull two people.” I opened my side door and stepped out to slide open the door next to mine. “Luke and Hardy, come with me. The rest of you are going to get out at the back.”

In that instant, I could see the disgust on Easton’s face. Hardy hopped out first, and then Luke. I looked over to Tori to see what her facial expression was going to say, but her eyes were closed. “Louis, can you wake her up when you get over there?”

I pulled the vehicle’s door shut and waved for Roger to head off. I turned to face both Luke and Hardy once the van pulled away. Luke was doing his usual cowardly stance with one foot almost on top of the other. Hardy- I don’t even know where to begin with him. “She tell you anything?”

“No, but she tried asking questions, and then eventually gave up and fell asleep on my shoulder.”

“What kind of questions?” I asked, cringing at his previous added statement of her sleeping. I started walking towards the house we arrived at.

“She asked who was in charge, if there were any other people, where we were going…”

“And what did you tell her?” I cut him off.

“Exactly what i was told to say.”

Taglist: @heartbreakgirlisagoodsongcalum @harishaanne

Please lmk if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist

#joke #kaykay writes #fanfic #ruel fic #ruel fanfiction #ruel fanfic #ruel vincent van dijk #ruel #ruel van dijk #joke ruel

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #18 (1980)

This is the kind of cover that probably kept me thinking this book was too adult for me and that I should just stick to Groo and Elfquest.

In Dave's Swords of Cerebus essay, he explains how he didn't know what the fuck he was doing when he was writing this story and I'll tell you a secret: it fucking shows. He explains how he wrote one idea but realized that idea wasn't going to work and then wrote some other ideas but they weren't going anywhere and then he went back to the first idea and wrote a small novella which still wasn't going to work so then he tried some other idea but couldn't really get anywhere and pretty soon his week that he plans for writing was over and he just had to start drawing one of the scenes. So he picked one and strung it out and then he needed a new scene and took the Lord Julius epilogue and stick that on page 5 and 6. By that time, he sort of had a new idea with the help of his brother-in-law and even though that new idea was pretty lame, what more could he do?! He doesn't admit that his new story is lame; I think he thinks he really pulled one out at the last minute. But it's really kind of lame. I get it though! He's written seventeen previous stories (plus some Cerebus stories that appeared in other magazines) and they were all pretty good and working toward building a portrait of Estarcion and Cerebus and some kind of weird aardvark mystery. He was due to slip up some time! I'm just glad he was honest about how the writing part when all wrong and since he couldn't fall behind on the art, he had to just kind of start drawing and hope for the best. I suppose in that regard, the comic wasn't so bad. It told a coherent story that moves Cerebus' plans for the invasion of Palnu ahead and Dave even gets some funny jokes in. But as far as the extended story goes, not much happens? Cerebus and the T'gitans took over Fluroc by murdering everybody in it and then needed more money for troops and they got more money for troops by conning a merchant that came to town. That's it! That's the whole story! Did we need this story? Probably not! But did we really need any Cerebus story so far? Almost certainly not (with the exception of all the stories that showcased new characters!). But what I really liked about this comic book was the Aardvark Comments section! Things are really getting good finally! It's not just a few nerdy nerds nerding it up for Dave Sim.

I mean, it is some nerdy nerds nerding it up nerdily!

The first letter is what I'm assuming was the introductory or cover letter from Marvel's Jim Shooter when he sent out contracts to prospective employees.

Is this the worst thing Jim Shooter ever wrote? Sadly, it is not.

If you're one of those people who like to describe 95% of everything as "cringe," you'll love Dave Sim's response:

Remember, this was 1980 and "written blackface as hyperbolic response" was probably just something taught in creative writing classes.

Casually whistling past the terrible method of his response the way you simply steer the conversation away from racist tirades every time your grandfather speaks up at Thanksgiving dinner, this feels like the first time Sim really calls out the two big publishers and how they conduct business. It'll become a hallmark of Dave Sim in his crusade for independent publishers. And this sarcastic and also racist response (I can only whistle nonchalantly for so long!) isn't his only response in this Aardvark Comments. But as his first response, I'll assume it's the most closest to how he truly feels about Marvel and DC. In 1980, he's already calling them out on their practice of stealing their employees' intellectual properties. Okay, "stealing." The contract is to make the "stealing" legal so they don't wind up in constant lawsuits and can continue to offer the artists whose creations make them scads of money little to no future compensation on their efforts. Dave Sim could think of no other attack on Marvel than to pretend he's a caricature of a slave. I'm not in disagreement with Dave here and, believe me, in 1980, I almost certainly wouldn't have thought the mintrelesque response was anything but a clever way of making his point. Although I was also 9 in 1980 so I probably would have had to ask an adult why the fuck Dave was writing like that. But as I said, there's more! The next letter is a bit of a response to Dave's crusade against the Big Two Corporations. And from his peers!

I guessed I missed the comments in Issue #15. I'd better go back and see what the Pinis were talking about.

Here's what Dave said in Issue #15's "Aardvark Comment": "Maybe Marvel can turn its corporate back on you. As they never grow tired of explaining, fan sales make up a very small fraction of their profits. They don't think much of your taste in comics, artists, writers or anything else." It's a little hard to parse this comment being that I don't know what was happening in comic books in 1980 concerning the fans and Marvel but doesn't this sound a lot like the Comicsgate argument of today? That Marvel doesn't give a shit about what its "real fans" want? Anyway, back to the Pini's letter. The Pinis' letter reads like Elfquest trying to talk Cerebus out of gutting a merchant. I suppose when you point out that artists and writers working for Marvel and DC are idiots for not publishing their work as an independent, I can see how they might get upset with you. I'm sure Richard and Wendy had a number of discussions with Marv Wolfman where Marv would say things like "I'm not dumb! You're dumb!" or "I'm not a piece of property! You are!" or "I'll show you who's a slave to the man! I'll kill Cyborg!" After that, the Pinis were probably all, "You know what? Criticizing work-for-hire in the comic book arts just isn't worth all these Marv Wolfman tantrums. Let's just bite our tongues." After a couple of letters from some nerd groupies in which Dave laments the target audience of comic books, he responds more in length to the . . . well, wait. Let's first look at his response about his core audience!

I'm offended! I always fix it immediately when a headlight goes out.

I mean, after seventeen issues, "Aardvark Comment" is finally getting interesting! Okay, so now to Sim's actual response to Wendy and Richard Pini.

Dave Sim being serious. Probably.

I'd like to point out the end of this letter in which Dave states fairly plainly the main theme of criticism behind Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea for nearly a decade: "I just don't happen to think that the system in operation now is the best thing for this medium and that it is not the most conducive way to get the best from the creative talents that exist. Quite the opposite, it seems to encourage half-assed efforts in order to guarantee that you are not surrendering your rights to something of value. And how many of us, Steve Gerber included, could know in advance that our ducks were of any value?" This was as true in 1980 as it is now. It's just that in 1980, it was much harder and a lot more work to retain the rights to your creations through self-publishing. So most comic book writers and artists were doing their best work at DC and Marvel. What other reasonable choice was there? Dave and Deni have discussed multiple times across the last dozen and a half issues how hard self-publishing has been for them. Now imagine a company like Image exists or a place like Kickstarter. Creators now know to save their best ideas for places that will give them full control and full potential earnings on their creations. DC and Marvel can't help but be full of writers doing half-assed jobs with their half-assed ideas and saving their truly monumental and mind-blowing work for Image or another, now more easily accessible independent publishing venture. This was in 1980 and Dave Sim was seeing creators screwed out of future royalties on ideas that wound up making fortunes for the parent companies. Some people accept this as business as usual and would be able to garner no sympathy for a creator stiffed out of royalties. But those people are unimaginative, pitiable, and sad. Something being legal has never in the history of everything been a convincing argument that that something is ethical, moral, or just fucking compassionate. Hopefully this "Aardvark Comment" begins to stir some serious discussion with Cerebus readers because I'm eager to read a lot more of Dave's thoughts about comic book publishing and fandom. Eventually there won't be a whole lot of separation between the comic book and the letters page. I mean, when the author inserts himself into the story as both some sort of omniscient being and also another fictionalized author, it gets hard to separate what you believe from the ideas expressed within the story. Cerebus #18 Rating: B-. That rating was for the lackluster story! The "Aardvark Comment" page gets an A! Oh, and I forgot to mention "The Single Page!" Imagine my surprise when I turned the page and saw this:

Tim Kreider in 1989! (Remember, this is from the 1989 Bi-weekly reprints of the 1980 Cerebus #18.)

You can just see Tim's eventual style in these early characters. The main male character is basically a baby-faced version and immature style of his eventual renditions of himself.

This is from Tim Kreider's book of essays and cartoons, We Learn Nothing.

I can't recommend Tim Kreider's essays and cartoons highly enough. Read his books, We Learn Nothing and I Wrote This Book Because I Love You and maybe search the Internet for a cache of his old cartooning website. You probably won't be disappointed. I say probably because I've learned that a lot of people on the Internet aren't exactly like me like I expect you all to be. Idiots.

#Dave Sim #Cerebus #Tim Kreider

[youredoingkinwrong]

Can you talk a little bit more about your transition from being in denial/not wanting to be fictionkin, to being comfortable with it and having as many kintypes as you have and continuing to consider more? I'm still in the "I don't want this" phase and not wanting to believe in it, and I haven't seen many other people talking about that experience. What was it like for you at first?

Of course! A fair warning though - this was quite a few years ago, so my recollection probably won’t be perfect. 

So, I used to run in some pretty infamous circles when I was in my teen years. I liked to get into frequent discourse (usually about transgender topics - if the terms “truscum” or “tucute” mean anything to you: I was right in the thick of it.) and because of my attitude, I tended to group together with other likeminded folks. 

Because I was young, I trusted my older friends to know more about topics that I wasn’t well-versed in. At the time, “kin” was just something I associated with the “other side” - so there was no way there was any real ground to it, right? The people I trusted had told me it was bullshit, so I believed them. I will admit though, I was a little hesitant to go along with what they said. I had marginally looked into otherkin at the time and I thought it had perfectly described a lot of my own life. I secretly didn’t mind otherkin, but at the time I did believe fictionkin was complete bull.

But that didn’t really last for long. I joined a Skype group (Skype! God! I’m old!) with a few people I knew, and a few people I didn’t know very well - and some of them were otherkin and fictionkin. Upon interacting with them, I very quickly realized that maybe the stuff I had blindly believed... wasn’t very accurate. So I ended up doing my own research, meeting other people, and started thinking more for myself. I still didn’t know how I felt about fictionkin, but I was finally in a place where I could comfortably call myself otherkin.

(For the record, I’ve long since left the discourse circles I started in. I think most of the people I used to know have also moved on and grown to be better people. At least, I hope so!)

So I got closer with my fictionkin friends, and I heard about their experiences: how they confirmed, what it felt like to be fictionkin, what it meant to them, etc. At this point I knew better than to just blindly listen to whatever people told me (even if I deemed them a higher authority than myself, I still liked to do my own research), but I still hadn’t felt a specific connection to a fictional character or anything like that. I had a feeling I was fictionkin but I didn’t know who or why or how. I was very concerned with the why and how for a long time, tbh.

Long story short for that phase of my life: I got used to fictionkin mostly by being around people who identified as fictionkin, listening to what they had to say, and perhaps most importantly, just being their friend? Once you humanize a concept, it becomes a lot easier to understand. I guess what mattered was not that they were fictionkin, it was that they were my friends. 

Not to get too sentimental or anything. I haven’t talked to most of these people in years. But I will always remember that they helped open the door for me. 

I discovered my first actual kintype around... oh, it was like a few months to half a year? after really coming to terms with fictionkin. Or rather, I started questioning at that time. I genuinely confirmed Luke a few months later. 

I’ll be honest, I know I have... a fair amount of kintypes, if we’re being lenient. I don’t actively seek out characters to kin, though. I just tend to gravitate towards sources that pull me in. My kintypes weren’t all discovered overnight, either - like I said, I’ve been at this for a little while, and at this point I kind of know what to look for. I still make mistakes - I may not be human but by god I’ll fuck up like one! - and that’s fine. Nobody’s perfect. This is all a part of getting to know myself better and better.

So, I get where you’re coming from. Wanting to deny fictionkin, I’ve been there - I wouldn’t blame you for continuing to write it off as too bizarre. It’s a weird, nebulous experience that apparently nobody on this godforsaken website can agree on, and Luke Skywalker here just told you that he used to willingly self-identify as something called “truscum” (cringe), so like, no judgement here. This shit can be pretty bananas. 

Yeesh, I’m not sure if this does more help than harm. Well, I’ve said all that I can really remember, and I don’t want to bore you with the rest of my ‘kin experience (a whole lot of “Shit, not this again,”), but if you’re curious and want to know more then my askbox (and my DM’s!) are always open.

#This is looooong I'm sorry (;~;) #anonymous #ask

[emmelfish]

Free to Good Home – CURIOUS SPAWN

(A 300 Follower Special)

Truth-seekers and secret-hunters, gather around! Strangetown’s mysteries may have long been solved – after all, TS2 has been in existence for over 15 years at this point – but I wanted to take the opportunity to pay tribute to the ’hood that got me into Sim Storytelling in the first place and give you some basegame-based gifts for gifting me with 300 followers.

Sure, sure, I could have included my Tycho, but friends – y’all games begin with a Tycho. Everybody got a Tycho. So instead, I’m gifting you these Curious babies I’m especially proud of. Three sets of parents, five kids, and I’m pretty sure you can guess their parentage just by looking at them.

Additional bonus is that you haven’t met a single one of them yet because my posts haven’t caught up with my gameplay. So... surprise?

Downloads and infos beneath le cut! Use Clean Installer pls!

_____________________________________

Holy neat points on these kiddos, Batman.

Upon playing Strangetown for the first time, not only are you greeted with Pascal as a cosmic-parent-in-waiting but you’re strongly encouraged to send eternal Middle Child Vidcund to the telescope where he’ll be blessed with his own green bundle of joy. In my game, I’d already installed a multi-PT mod... so Vid’s spawn I believe are the product of PT#7.

Holmes Curious

Sloppy/Neat: 10

Shy/Outgoing: 6

Lazy/Active: 2

Serious/Playful: 7

Grouchy/Nice: 7

Hobby: Cuisine

Aspiration: Romance

When Vidcund developed his stupid crush on Cassandra Goth in my game, he probably walked all the way to Pleasantview and drank its cursed water, because he had TWINS. I promise I didn’t do this to punish him. Holmes is lucky enough to have inherited the pointy PT#7 ears and was named for a comet. He actually grew into that pink-streaked hair as a toddler, and I couldn’t let it go. He pretty much has Vid’s exact face and much like his father, looks for love in all the wrong places (but UNLIKE his father, those plentiful nice points mean Holmes is vaguely successful on the dating scene). He plans to combine his family’s love of science and his own love of food into a Molecular Gastronomy career.

Download Holmes Curious

Halley Curious

Sloppy/Neat: 10

Shy/Outgoing: 3

Lazy/Active: 0

Serious/Playful: 10

Grouchy/Nice: 9

Hobby: Cuisine

Aspiration: Pleasure

While her twin focuses on sauce spherification and deconstructed goopy carbonara, Halley just wants to give the world a big hug with a massive plate of homemade cookies. Like her bro she too was named after a comet, and is at her happiest curled up on the sofa watching The Great Simlish Bake Off or in front of her own oven, baking up a storm (and cleaning up after herself at every stage even though it exhausts her). She’s not the most confident, but perhaps doing work experience at J’Adore Bakery will help her come out of her shell. She dreams of being whisked away on a romantic voyage to Champs Les Sims to eat pastries and bread and drink wine before noon... but needs to pluck up the courage to ask somebody on a date first. Once she does, the lucky sim will realize just what a catch Halley is when they get to know her – fiercely loyal and belly-achingly funny.

Download Halley Curious

Quest Beaker-Curious

Sloppy/Neat: 6

Shy/Outgoing: 4

Lazy/Active: 2

Serious/Playful: 9

Grouchy/Nice: 5

Hobby: Games

Aspiration: Knowledge

Skintone: Between S2 and S3

You KNOW that face is unmistakable, right? Of course that’s Lazlo’s son, he even grew up into purple clothes without me doing anything for crying out loud. But pray tell, where do those twinkling green eyes come from? Yep, Quest’s the result of one of my favorite new pairings! And with Erin and Lazlo for parents, of course we’re evolving from Vidcund’s slightly-silly-but-still-somewhat-socially-acceptable kid-naming scheme to all out ludicrousness. I legit lifted ‘Quest’ from a website called something like Hippy Baby Names. Cute as a button and a barrel of laughs to boot, much more comfortable interacting online than in person, I’m genuinely impressed that he’s relatively capable of keeping a... fairly tidy living space when his genetics held him at a massive disadvantage. Most likely destined for the Gaming or Game Development career – in the meantime he co-runs a rather popular Twitch channel with his cousin Jack. Will beat you at both Solitaire and Hearthstone.

Download Quest Beaker-Curious

Anaïs Beaker-Curious

Sloppy/Neat: 0

Shy/Outgoing: 9

Lazy/Active: 2

Serious/Playful: 6

Grouchy/Nice: 9

Hobby: Arts & Crafts

Aspiration: Popularity

Skintone: Between S2 and S3

Narrowly escaped being named Moonunit at my SO’s suggestion (who, fun fact, also came up with the name Anaïs). Just... if you let this sim into your game, you’re gonna need a maid. In sharp contrast to her cousins, ya girl is a complete slob. Maybe one day I’ll have her share an apartment with her cousin Halley, and between Halley’s 0 active points and Anaïs’ 0 neat points, we’ll see if literally anything gets done (apart from cookie-baking and clay-sculpting... girls, please don’t accidentally mix those two doughs up). Much more extroverted than her bro Quest, she’s also far more of a people person than he is. (Jeez, the majority of these Curious kids are hella nice, right?) Her natural hair color is her mother’s blonde, but I thought I’d have a bit of fun and dye it lilac for her. Fun fact: Sims 3 Erin’s favorite color is violet, Lazlo wears a violet T-shirt, you do the maths. (Let’s just ignore Vid’s love of African violets shall we.) If she had the remotest liking of physical activity she might be a surfer girl, but instead she just loves wearing shells and Salt Rock clothing. Enjoys making busts that look like that creepy Lionel Richie one in the ‘Hello’ video. 

Download Anaïs Beaker-Curious

Jack Smith

Sloppy/Neat: 7

Shy/Outgoing: 6

Lazy/Active: 2

Serious/Playful: 10

Grouchy/Nice: 10

Hobby: Games

Aspiration: Family

(That’s my half-hearted attempt at making it look like Jack took a selfie.) It’s always a gamble when you give PT#9 and Jenny Smith (née Curious) a genetically correct kid. Will they even have a nose? Will their cheekbones poke peoples’ eyes out? Well I truly struck gold with Jack, who has the best of both wonderful worlds. Frequently to be found in the butt-groove of a beanbag embroiled in Fortnite battles with Quest (Quest ‘5 nice points’ talks fairly gentle smack on his headset while Jack cringes and apologizes for him), he’s inherited both parents’ Family aspiration and adores being at home with the entire massive extended clan (also Jen and PT have like 5 dogs at this point). Probably the kind of kid who comes home from college to do a bit of laundry and ends up staying the whole weekend. He’s easily the most fun of the Smith kids, and his maxed out nice points mean he is truly too pure for this world. Please look after him, Johnny and Jill can only protecc him so much.

Download Jack Smith

#Vidcund Curious #Pollination Technician 7 #PT7 #Erin Beaker #Lazlo Curious #Jenny Smith #Jenny Curious #PT9 Smith #Pollination Technician 9 #Maxis Premade Kids #Premade Spawn #Maxis Premades #TS2 #The Sims 2 #Maxis Premade Spawn