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#for the record my favourite always has been (and always will be) Death in the Spotlight
justarandombrit · 1 month
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Nirvana - The Man Who Sold the World 1993
"The Man Who Sold the World" is the title track of David Bowie's third studio album, which was released in 1970 in the US and in 1971 in the UK. Although no singles were issued from the album, the song appeared as the B-side on the 1973 reissue US single release of "Space Oddity" and UK single release of "Life on Mars?".
In his journals, Kurt Cobain of the American grunge band Nirvana ranked the album The Man Who Sold the World at number 45 in his top 50 favourite albums. Nirvana subsequently recorded a live rendition of the song during their MTV Unplugged appearance at Sony Music Studios in New York City on 18 November 1993 and it was included on their MTV Unplugged in New York album released on November 1, 1994, nearly seven months following the death of Cobain. The song was also released as a promotional single for the album in 1995.
Nirvana's cover received considerable airplay on alternative rock radio stations and was also placed into heavy rotation on MTV, peaking at number 3 on MTV's most played videos on 18 February 1995; it also peaked for two weeks at number 7 on Canada's MuchMusic Countdown in March 1995. Nirvana regularly covered the song during live sets after their MTV Unplugged performance up until Cobain's death. In 2002, the song was re-released on Nirvana's self-titled "best of" compilation.
Bowie said of Nirvana's cover: "I was simply blown away when I found that Kurt Cobain liked my work, and have always wanted to talk to him about his reasons for covering 'The Man Who Sold the World'" and that "it was a good straight forward rendition and sounded somehow very honest." Bowie called Nirvana's cover "heartfelt", noting that "until this [cover], it hadn't occurred to me that I was part of America's musical landscape. I always felt my weight in Europe, but not [in the US]." In the wake of its release, Bowie bemoaned the fact that when he performed the number himself, he would encounter "kids that come up afterwards and say, 'It's cool you're doing a Nirvana song.' And I think, 'Fuck you, you little tosser!'"
At a pre–Grammy Awards party on 14 February 2016, Nirvana band members Krist Novoselic, Dave Grohl, and Pat Smear teamed up with Beck to perform "The Man Who Sold the World" in tribute to Bowie – who had died the month before — with Beck performing vocals.
"The Man Who Sold the World" received a total of 77,6% yes votes! Dave Grohl has previously been featured in the polls with Foo Fighter's "The Pretender" at #111 and as a drummer on Queens of the Stone Age's "No One Knows" at #87, and David Bowie has been featured with "I'm Afraid of Americans" at #33.
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tayytayy12 · 24 days
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From the start | LN4 x Reader
Summary - Reader and Lando have been best friends for years, but reader slowly develops feelings for him, and didn’t want to tell him in fear that he wouldn’t feel the same and it would ruin their friendship forever, so she releases a song indirectly telling him everything, not knowing he’d always felt the same.
Warnings - Swearing
Type - SMAU
FaceClaim - Laufey
Requested - yes - no
Yourusername
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Liked by - LandoNorris, GracieAbrams and 4,927,290 others - Posted 01.02.24
Yourusername - Studio sesh 😙
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User1 - OMG OMG OMG OMG
User2 - DOES THIS MEAN NEW MUSIC SOON ?!??!?
GracieAbrams - 💛
Yourusername - 🤍
User3 - She’s so adorable
User4 - Y/n I need whatever you made in that studio like right now pls
User5 - Oh Y/n I fear I can already tell you’ve ate
LandoNorris - HELLO WHY DIDNT I KNOW OF THIS ?
User6 - the first time she hasn’t told Lando something
Yourusername
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Liked by - LandoNorris, TaylorSwift and 5,100,104 others - Posted 20.02.24
Yourusername - Surprise !!!!!!! My brand new single, ‘from the start’ is out right now! Along with its music video, written and directed by yours truly 😙 this song is unlike anything I’ve ever released before, it’s a complete and true raw reflection of all of my emotions, and I hope you love it like I do. I love you, enjoy 🤍
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User7 - OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG
User8 - KNEW Y/N ERA INCOMING
User9 - THIS SONG IS EVERYTHING WHAT
User10 - The music video is so fun and goofy but somehow so deep at the same time, I love it sm 😭
User11 - Y/N WHO IS THIS ABOUT
User12 - FR SAME
User13 - YES LIKE, WHOS GOT OUR GIRL WRITING WHOLE ASS LOVE CONFESSIONS
User14 - Literally my new favourite song
User15 - Okay this is so about Lando
User16 - Girl what ?😭
User17 - I see their point, the lyrics point to all things that they’ve said about their friendship
User18 - Like what? 😭
User19 - Like ‘Listening to you harp on 'bout some new soulmate "She's so perfect, " blah, blah, blah’ Y/n has said so many times that sometimes Lando just sits there and says everything about the new girl he’s talking too and it bores her to death, I’d say that’s good enough proof 😭
Y/n.Nation
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Liked by - User20, LandoNorris and 83,290 others - Posted - 23.02.24
Tagged | @/Yourusername
Y/n.Nation - Y/n was the guest on the Jimmy Fallon show last night !!!! She debuted from the start with its first ever live performance, then done her interview where she revealed that her new hit is about someone very very close and personal to her, her words were-
“From the start for me, is like a one of those letters that people write and throw into the fireplace just to get their emotions out there, but instead of writing a letter and throwing it into a fire I wrote a song and gave it to my fans. Which for me is kind of the same thing, they’re incredibly supportive and loving and I couldn’t be more grateful for them, every single one of them I love with my whole heart. This song is about something that I’ve been keeping to myself for maybe ten years now? Since I was still really young. God that makes me sound old, but it’s about someone I’ve known and been extremely close to since I was a child. And I think when you’re so close with someone, feelings like the one I’ve presented in the song can completely ruin a friendship if they’re unrequited, but the other day I decided it was time for me to ‘man up’ as my mum would say, and I went to the studio, I wrote and recorded the song and shot the video, and I just released it and I let my music do the talking. I’ve still not heard anything from the person I’ve aimed it too, so if I don’t get one I suppose that’s my answer to my ‘confession of love’ that I brought up at least seven times in the song.”
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User21 - Y/n told me she loves me
User22 - I’m crying this is so cute but a teeny bit sad at the same time
User23 - She actually lets us read her diary 🥲
User24 - Oh it’s so about lando 🥲
User25 - It’s so obvious I’m gonna cry
User26 - LANDO ANSWER HER RN
User27 - ‘Since I was really young’ she really has loved him from the start
User28 - Okay this relationship is a need now please
User29 - same it’s not even a joke anymore
User30 - Lando it’s in your hands now do the right thing
User31 - LANDO LIKED THAT HAS TO BE GOOD
LN.Updates
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Liked by - Yourusername, user32 and 89,191 others - Posted - 25.02.24
Tagged | @/LandoNorris
LN.Updates - Lando on a podcast recently!!! He never addresses Y/n by name, but I think we’d be right in assuming that’s who’s he’s talking about
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User33 - MY LANY/N HEART HAS BEEN GROWING THIS PAST WEEK
User34 - I need someone who looks at me the way Lando looks whenever Y/n is mentioned
User35 - WE ALL DO
User36 - HE FEELS THE SAME HE FEELS THE SAME
User37 - Y/N LIKED OMGGG
User38 - Gonna die
User39 - I need them together right now
User40 - All the Lany/n haters right now are hiding
User41 - As they should be
LandoNorris
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Liked by - Yourusername, OscarPiastri and 2,008,99 others - Posted - 22.04.24
Tagged | @/yourusername
LandoNorris - Just thinking of youuuuu 🤍🤍
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User42 - EVERYBODY WAKE UP LANY/N HAS BEEN CONFIRMED
User42 - SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP
User43 - RIP ME
User44 - WHY THE FUCK DID IT TAKE YOU TWO MONTHS TO CONFIRM THIS
LandoNorris - We was in a funny mood, we’ve been together since the day after that podcast 🫠
User45 - SHUT THE FUCK UP
User46 - So, before the even confirmed their relationship, they’ve been on a boat trip, she’s been to races, AND they’ve gone to the beach while we all through that they wasn’t together
User47 - The from the start lyrcis 😩
Yourusername - That was a great coffee
LandoNorris - I made a cute hard launch post and you focus on the coffee you had over a month ago?
Yourusername - It was a really good coffee 🥲
LandoNorris - I’ll buy you more
Yourusername - I love youuu 🥲
LandoNorris - I love you more 🤍
User48 - I’m going to sleep on the highway
Yourusername
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Liked by - LandoNorris, GracieAbrams and 2,991,295 others - Posted 22.04.24
Tagged | @/LandoNorris
Yourusername - When I say from the start, I really mean it 🤍
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User49 - This is the kind of love I NEED.
LandoNorris - I love you, I always have
Yourusername - Funny, I could say that same thing. I love you so much more
LandoNorris - Impossible
User50 - This is why I wish my mum had a best friend with a son, cause this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
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coltishcaterpillar · 2 months
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Unmasked / Platonic!Father Alastor x Teen!Daughter Reader
Chapter I: Introduction
Summary:
Two days after the Extermination, a bored Emily reads through private records of Heavenly residents and sinners alike.
During her mindless scrolling, she comes across a vintage diary smelling of old paper, from the late 20s-early 30s. It details the life of the teenage adopted daughter of the Radio Demon; up until her death at aged 16 on January 11th, 1934.
WARNINGS: Mentions of Racism
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April 4th, 1932
Have you ever seen a top hat, what one really looks like on a person?
Neither have I, until today. At the end of Merritt Street, there’s a small accessories store that sells jewellery and clothing alike.
I used to frequent there, but I’ve never been a fashionable girl. I’m a larger fan of browsing; just admiring the beauty of art from afar, rather than acquiring it.
I never realized how much I missed the little establishment until I saw my favourite businessperson; Anne Brewster. A short, tout woman she was. Her skin had a grey tinge to it, a pointy nose that popped out her features; bright brown eyes and hair as white as pearls, short and thin as straw.
I greeted her with my usual demeanour. Quiet and curt, a straight wave and a superficial smile. The woman has a tendency to chatter; most of the time I don’t have time to interject, so I just listen.
I went in the shop with Elbert Graves; a fellow classmate of mine in mathematics. He’s not my ideal source of company, I’ll admit. I get along much better with other girls, but this helpless boy is always on my tail, and I can’t bare to tell him to get lost.
We came across a jet-black top hat with a golden ribbon wrapped around its rim. It was on display, but there was no glass so we assumed we could sample it. Elbert looked utterly ridiculous in it; far too flashy, and way too gigantic for his pea-sized head.
I managed a small laugh, as that’s the reaction he would’ve wanted from me. Ever the jokester…
I took a seat on the cushioned chair in front of the store’s entrance. Whilst Elbert was fooling around with other gadgets, Anne took to speaking with me.
She spoke a great deal about her grandchildren, and then inquired me about Papa.
Pa doesn’t usually wander about these places, but he knows Anne from university; they attended the same one in Shreveport, in September of 1908. Pa wanted to become a broadcaster post-secondary (to which he achieved) and Anne wanted to edit the local newspaper part-time; she was getting old, but didn’t want to stop working. She didn’t end up pursuing it, however, she dropped out her third year to take care of Rachel (her eldest grandchild who was 5 at the time.) Then, she inherited this business when Mr. Brewster, her father, died. He owned the shop.
She asked about his job was working out for him. Pa never speaks about work when he arrives home; usually he’s more interested in my daily activities. I don’t listen to Pa’s radio channel anyways, because the subjects he covers doesn’t appeal to me.
I just told her he was thriving; because in a way, he was. Pa was rarely in a sour mood. Of course, he gets moody when I do something out of line from time to time, but his attitude is always uplifting.
Elbert excused himself to the restroom at the back of the desk; that’s when she started talking about adolescent things. Boys…..
“Elbert is a such a handsome boy, don’t you agree?”
“Not particularly.”
“Oh? Why do you say that?”
“His chin is too long, and his head is too small for his broad shoulders. Not to mention his personality isn’t to my tastes. He’s far too extroverted and cheeky.”
“Oh, come now, my lovely. Surely, we can’t all be picky! What ever will you do when you grow into a young woman? Who will be around to take care of you?”
“Pa will, no doubt.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Your father will be far too senile to care for you when you’re in your prime! You need a strong man!”
“Too senile?! Surely, you jest. Pa may be lanky, but he’s very capable. He was only twenty-five when he adopted me, he’ll only be middle-aged by the time I’m an adult.”
“You say Elbert is cheeky, but I see a lot more cockiness coming from you than I ever have with him.”
“Only an outside observer can properly assess my personality. Perhaps you just see my persona differently than I.”
“Is that so?”
The bell hanging from the door rang; in came a man, dressed in a business suit, a large briefcase held in his right hand. He had been more wrinkly than I had last seen him: Anne’s partner, Mr. Devereaux.
He has a very thick Yorkshire accent; Anne and him met while she was on vacation in London; Mr. Devereaux was studying photography. When they first met in late 1864, they weren’t sure whether or not they could ever be together. Anne is a very brown woman, you see. Very. Mr. Devereaux is about as white as a sheet. People often look down on….colourful couples…? More harshly. They aren’t allowed to be married, so they had to improvise.
Forgive me for not mentioning this sooner, but Anne is actually good friends with my Grandma. Pa is half-Creole, you see, and my Grandma’s roots come from there. So, the Brewsters are actually well-acquainted with my family.
Mr. Devereaux sat his briefcase beside the door, across from where I was seated. He flashed me a toothless smile; quite literally, since they all rotted out of his mouth due to age.
I gave him a curious look back.
“Back from business, old man?” I tease.
He chuckled; giving me an affectionate pat on the head.
“Oh, well, look at you! Already at it with the nosy interrogation, I see! I’ve missed you, sweet girl.” He smiled.
I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t answer the question….
He turned his attention to Anne quite quickly. Leaning over the desk, he planted a kiss on her forehead.
“The trip went smoothly,” He told Anne, “Janice sent you a letter. It should be in the mail soon, my darling.”
Janice was their daughter.
“Lovely.”
He turned his entire body so it faced me, with an inquisitive look on his face. He then turned and whispered to Anne,
“Al is out late again?”
“I don’t know, my sweet. I’ve seen her out and about all day with Elbert, he must be. It’s nearly nine.”
“I thought his radio shows were done by four?”
“Perhaps the schedule’s changed, dearest. Let’s not be nosy, it’s not our business.”
I let out a deep breath through my nose, standing up. Pa likes to hang around a few stores after work, so I tried my best not to let their observations get to me. Perhaps he was already home!
Anne leaned over from behind Mr. Devereaux.
“Could you go check on Elbert, hun? He’s been in the restroom for quite a while.”
I sigh. Without a response, I head toward the back desk, into the small hallway that had the restrooms.
I knocked on the door, firmly.
“El?” I addressed him by nickname.
“Mhm?” His hun echoed off the door.
I raised an eyebrow. “What have you been doing in there these past fifteen minutes? It was eight-forty when you went in, it’s five to nine already!”
Within seconds, he came out of the door, an awkward smile plastered on his face. A blush dusted his cheeks as well; I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he have the runs?
“Finished?” I asked him without judgment.
“Yes.” He said, curt.
I lead him back to the entrance of the store, passing Anne a smile. I turn my gaze back to Elbert.
“I’m going to be leaving now. I hadn’t realize how late it was. Will you be alright on your own?” I asked, a tint of concern in my voice.
“Of course. See you later?” His tone was hopeful.
Without a pause, I said, “Yes, I’ll see you later.”
I said my goodbyes to Anne and Mr. Devereaux, and sent my regards to Janice.
When I exited the store, it wasn’t as dark and drab as I thought it would be; I still heard birds chirping, and I could see my way almost perfectly. Just another perk of springtime, I suppose.
When I arrived home, Pa was indeed on the couch, his legs crossed, with a newspaper in hand; black coffee was situated on the side table.
“Home at long last, my dear!” He put his newspaper down; and I ran over, kissing him on the cheek.
“Sorry, Papa. How long did you have to wait?”
“Oh, not long at all!” He chuckled heartily.
I turn over to the rounded wooden table in the dining room; a large cloth bag sat on it; my eyes lit up in curiosity.
“Now, now,” Pa waved his finger, “I know that dangerous gaze. Don’t go peeking around my things, dear.”
I put on a thinned-lipped smile, leaning on the armrest.
“What, do you have something to hide, Papa~?” I leaned in, teasingly.
It was meant to be a joke. A rhetorical question. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice his fist clench up, if only for a moment. His body language was saying something different than what his mouth was.
“Is it really too much to ask to keep yourself out of my business?” He bit his lower lip.
When Pa took that tone with me, I knew it was time to pipe down. I decided to change the subject, sitting next to him on the couch.
“Elbert and I took a stroll around the avenue.” I said, tracing along the armrest.
I could FEEL Pa’s eye roll without even looking.
“Out with that wretched boy again, are we?” He took a casual tone as he sipped his coffee, but I knew the mere thought of Elbert irked him.
Pa has never interacted much with my friends, so I thought El would be another drop in the ocean. I think his hatred of him has something to do with that one time he came over here.
Everything was alright until dinner time.
The few hours earlier, Grandma treated us with a generous amount of Jambalaya. She always makes the best, after all.
Elbert made an….observation? While we were eating and it made Pa freeze.
“This is some slave food! Who made it, a peasant?”
All I remember was Pa’s grip tightening so much on the fork. I leaned over to where he was sitting and rubbed his arm a little.
I disliked the comment too. That was my Grandma he was speaking about….
After El left, I noticed Pa staring at the wooden spoon on the shelf. I know that blasted piece of cutlery all too well….
Pa is good at discipline. Even when my other friends came over, he’d always make an effort to chastise them if they didn’t say please or thank you.
Long story short, I think Pa wanted to beat El. That’s probably why he was showing such immaculate restraint at the table. I can’t imagine another person disciplining somebody else’s child would go…smoothly, anyway.
He had valid reason to hate him, I suppose. I’m not fond of Elbert either, but…how do you find it in your heart to say no? I suppose I’ve never really had a backbone, but…it seems that he’s really fond of me.
“How was work?” I asked with a smile.
“It held all of its classic theatrics! You should find it in your soul to listen to my shows, my dear.” He beamed.
I was deep in thought.
“Don’t I hear enough of your voice already?”
Pa chuckled his little chuckle that always made my chest warm.
“You can never have too much of your father!”
Time went on as usual; a few moments later I decided to pack up for bed; Pa went upstairs to get his radio ready to listen to. He always does before he sleeps.
I took that as an opportunity to ponder; I turned my gaze back to the bag on the table. Pa notoriously hunts, but it was far too late for food, so it made me wonder.
I slid toward it with my socks against the hardwood. I breathed in deeply; perhaps there was a certain scent? All I could smell was the dusty fabric; nothing more.
With a sigh, I decided to leave it for now. Maybe it’s….best that I don’t.
Y/N
——————
Emily blinked once. She recognized the background; that this child of one of the hotel staff in Hell.
Taking the historical piece of literature to St. Peter, she inquired,
“St. Peter, hi! I was just wondering if there is a girl here in Heaven named Y/N L/N?”
St. Peter smiled in delight, getting out his holy book, scanning through all the people with your name; going roughly by last name. His face fell as they came to an end.
“Unfortunately not, Em! It’s…strange, considering the circumstances. Sixteen is very young for a person to end up in Hell…but she isn’t in Heaven.”
Emily frowned, eyeing the diary in her hands. Perhaps she’d find the answer in there….
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sugarsnappeases · 3 days
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microfic - bella killing sirius 🥰 | 1.5k words | warnings for um. death. obviously. but also for confusing narrative style ❤️
for the light of my life @quillkiller on this most auspicious day
Bellatrix laughs as Andy - the woman who looks like Andy, except for the purple hair, and the dirty blood - falls backwards away from her. She’s never going to get into the Duelling Club at Hogwarts if she keeps leaving her left side open like that; she’s lucky she has Bellatrix there to teach her.
The woman - her sister, blood-traitor, spawn of a mudblood, fighting on the side of the Order - doesn’t get back up again, limp body tumbling down the steep, stone steps. Bellatrix hasn’t lost a duel since she was thirteen, she holds the Duelling Club record for most consecutive wins - she’s the best person that Andy could have come to for help - she wasn’t going to be beaten by some filthy Auror brat.
Turning away from the unmoving body, Bellatrix runs deeper into the fray, moving towards the raised dais with its stone archway. It’s chaos, flashes of spellfire shooting across the room in all directions, red, purple, white, green, shouts and crashes and explosions as spells miss and damage the room, or as they hit their mark and damage the enemy.
She deflects a curse on instinct, swinging around to face the direction it had come from - a familiar face, her baby cousin - “Bella, will you duel me now?” - a traitor and a coward and unworthy of the name of Black.
Bellatrix returns fire. She’ll go easy on him, because Sirius is just a boy, mock-duelling with a borrowed wand and the small repertoire of spells that he had learned from her or from his parents, but he had always been quick on his feet, good at skipping out of the line of fire - she would make a proper duellist of him yet. She should kill him, for having everything and for running away from it, for turning against her, against his family, cursing their name then having the audacity to use the spells that she had taught him to fight for the wrong side of the war.
It’s the first time that she's seen him since he was disowned, in the middle of Diagon Alley, fighting with the Order of the Phoenix, and she should kill him. It’s the Yule holidays of her seventh year at Hogwarts, Sirius is nine and determinedly dodging her spells, one of their favourite games. They’re both somewhere else, screams and despair and a spinning, ungraspable whirlpool of memories, standing on the raised stone dais now, close enough to hear the whispers from the tattered veil hanging in the archway - soft, insidious, beneath the clamour of the battle.
Sirius throws a spell back at her, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “Hello cousin.”
Bellatrix grins as she dodges - Sirius is always so energetic, so eager to fight with her in a way that even Andromeda never is, let alone Narcissa or Regulus - so desperate to draw her blood, the same blood that runs through his veins, the same blood that he had forsaken, singling her out on any battlefield in the same way that she always did with him. He had run from everything that she had ever wanted - the Black heirship and the power, the esteem, which that entailed - as if it was nothing, as if she didn’t dream about commanding that level of respect, or awe, or fear, as if she hadn’t been scrambling every day of her life to try and get as close to it as she could. Sirius had run away from it, run away from her, and now he was a part of the Order of the Phoenix and she should kill him. She could kill him, the Black Heir, laughing as he narrowly avoids getting hit with a stupefy - he’s only nine, it’s not like he could really defend himself if she started firing off some of the more lethal spells she knew.
She had taught him how to perform the severing charm just the day before, lending him her wand - walnut and dragon heartstring just like the one that had chosen him when he turned eleven - he’s using Cissy’s today, struggling a little against it’s unicorn hair core, mostly relying on his ability to jump out of the trajectory of spells.
The two of them are volleying spells back and forth - ones that she had taught him and ones that the Dark Lord had taught her and ones that he had learnt without her somewhere - dodging or shielding or deflecting, spells barely grazing each other, she always knew that he would make a fine duellist - she had made him into one. They duel like this every time they see each other, during her holidays from Hogwarts, then during his holidays from Hogwarts; she had watched Sirius turn into a threat - she had taught him how to be a threat.
Bellatrix laughs as he manages to shoot off the severing charm that she had taught him - three different lethal curses in quick succession, a determined kind of acrimony about him, not surprised to see her fighting with the death eaters, in the same way that she isn’t really surprised to see him with the Order. She lets it hit her - blocks them all with a complicated shielding charm and throws back a confringo that explodes the cobblestones beneath his feet - still laughing as he cheers about how he’s fatally wounded her, feeling a sting from the shallow cut on her arm - he’s determined as ever but there’s less anger now; he’s playful, grinning when a curse singes the ends of his hair.
She knows she shouldn’t kill him - she isn’t sure if she could kill him anymore, he’s going toe to toe with her in a way that he’d never been able to when they were kids - she doesn’t think she really wants to kill him, her favourite cousin, more just the things that he represents, the signet ring on his finger that gives him an authority, aged nine, that she doesn’t have, can’t have, at nearly double his age - she thinks she wants to kill him now, though, now that he’s betrayed her, found a new family of mudbloods and blood-traitors and abandoned the role that she’s always craved. Bellatrix fires a stunner at him - puts up a hasty shield against his entrail-expelling curse, another one that she had taught him - the two of them laugh as he ducks it, the red light whizzing over his head - “Come on, you can do better than that!”
It’s loud, cacophonous with the battle raging all around them - blood on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, some of it hers, some of it his - Cissy’s complaining that she’s bored and wants to go outside - the whispers emanating from the crumbling stone archway are getting louder, seeping their way into Bellatrix’s head - and Sirius’ voice rings in her ears, echoes around the room.
She flings another spell at him, grinning as she watches him determinedly move through the wand movements for diffindo again - he laughs as she stumbles, as her shield collapses under the force of his reducto, as he gains the upper hand - concentrating on pushing his magic through Cissy’s wand, not paying close enough attention to the spell she’s just cast - Sirius deflects the curses she hurls at him, sends a barrage of spells back at her - he’s laughing, cocky as always, as her spell hurtles directly towards him.
It hits him right in the middle of his chest.
It’s quiet, suddenly.
Quiet as Sirius’s laughter cuts off. As his eyes widen in shock. As he falls backwards, slowly, as if some invisible weight were making him heavy, as if some invisible force were gently lifting him away. She looks at him and his face is gaunt, an underlying emaciation that no amount of hearty meals can hide, she sees the same whenever she looks in a mirror, right down to the tired, but ever determined glint in silver-grey eyes.
Bellatrix watches Sirius sink into the tattered veil - watches him fall to the floor of the duelling room in Grimmauld Place, for a second she imagines that he might be dead, what it would feel like to kill him - watches the grim smile on his face as one of his spells meets its target and her vision goes black - the veil flutters, those insidious whispers seem to pause for a moment, then rise to a roaring crescendo as his body disappears.
She screams along with them, triumphant - she hasn’t lost a duel since she was thirteen, Sirius has never once beaten her, always ending their duels on the floor - she’s killed Sirius Black, and everything that he represents, even if he had spurned the signet ring and the esteem that came with it. Bellatrix walks across the room to enervate him - wakes up in Malfoy Manor, Cissy leaning over her and asking if it was true that Sirius was a part of the Order now, if he had really beaten her in a duel - turns away from the whispers and the archway and the duel that she had won, skipping back up the stone steps, laughing as she hops over Andy’s - the mudblood’s - body.
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melrosing · 1 month
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I think Tywin is what happens when a aristocratic upper-class white Englishman makes his family the Nazi party. I mean my guy out here has such a stiff upper lip he had no bottom lip it’s just a line and all because his dad was jolly like Santa. If he was here his least favourite holiday would be Christmas and his favourite bonfire night where he tells all the children about guy Fawkes death.
I think the thing about Tywin is he's less interested in appealing to the populace than your average dictator tends to be, who generally seem more desperate to be liked. Tywin has pretty nasty politics and plenty of warcrimes under his belt, but i don't think he cares to be liked, he's too insular for that. the reason I think horrible upper class English dad is more to do with his immediate family dynamics e.g.
the emotional constipation where crying is weak and love is weak and the deep deep seated shame, but shame for all the wrong things. like lbr so much of what drives Tywin is shame. shame of his father of his children and deep down of himself!!! english.
very much a 'children should be seen and not heard' kind of guy, he wants children as avatars of his power but sees no point in engaging w them as people. sidenote I think England despises children and near always has and that's been passed from the upper class downwards. but another time
yes Tywin has daddy issues but have you considered the mummy issues. the obsession he has with his father's mistress is in part because she's encroaching on their late mother's position. so what exactly does it mean when Tywin marches her naked through the streets. and how does Joanna fit into all this?? ask yourself. anyway I think mummy issues are baked into upper class men like im pretty sure there are Books about this
also the weird psychosexual relationship with his children generally.... deeply English
I don't think Tywin believes in a superior race beyond his own family, though it's unclear what exactly he thinks House Lannister has to be proud of lmao WHAT have they even achieved in the recorded histories besides sitting on a goldmine. nah he just has a deep conviction that he is in precisely the place he ought to be and is obsessed with his own heraldry and won't even marry outside the family he marries his own cousin who looks just like him.... English
a penchant for doing horrific things in a tidy little way. and then going see now wasn't that efficient?
also sidenote on guy fawkes, tywin would be so gratified by how horrifically that guy failed lol. idk if it was just my catholic education but generally i grew up seeing guy fawkes as a hero who never was LMAO I guess Tywin would take the polar opposite pov
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steampunkishfoxes · 3 months
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Clara Carmine headcanons
Note: I'm new to the fan content scene on Tumblr, still figuring things out! I’m going to be making headcanons based on different fictional characters I adore, from different franchises/fandoms!
Clara Carmine is the daughter of Carmilla Carmine, one of the overlords in the series Hazbin Hotel on Amazon Prime. She’s one of my favourite characters and I wanted to dedicate my first headcanon post to her! Clara only has about 10-15 seconds of screen time, and one spoken line, but I adore her!
NSFW/SFW, Mature themes: discussion of death, discussion of cartels, discussions of weapons and violence, discussion of murder and a planned attack on a family, family themes, sexuality, pronouns, discussions of blood.
PERSONALITY HEADCANONS.
The following headcanons discuss what I think she would’ve been like on earth and what she’s like in hell.
-Clara is the younger of the two sisters, about 18 years of age physically, her soul is around 25 years old.
-She identifies as a demigirl, with she/they pronouns.
-She used to struggle a lot with her sexuality, she never really saw the fun in boys, but never paid attention to girls either. With help from her sister she found out she was lesbian around the age of 16 on earth.
-She looks a lot like her father, but her personality is more like her mother.
-Fluent in English, Spanish and French, though she’s attempted to learn Portuguese too.
-She’s fiercely protective over Odette, when the two were in school on earth Clara was always the one who stood up for her older sister when she was bullied.
-She hasn’t lost her confidence after finding herself in hell. She isn’t afraid to fight any demon that hurts her sister or mother, but doesn’t often get the chance to fight because of Carmilla’s protective and motherly nature.
-In the Carmine weapons business she takes the role of delivery girl alongside her sister Odette.
-In her free time she plays music, she has a customised guitar she uses to write and record her own song covers- this girl can SING!
-She’s very active on Sinstagram, posting music covers for any listening ear.
-Clara owns one soul, a lackey from the cartel she worked for on earth, who came to the Carmines for protection.
ROOM HEADCANONS.
Because every demon needs a safe place to call home, these are the headcanons I have for Clara’s room in the Carmine Mansion, down in hell!
-Clara’s room has slate blue walls and is covered with posters and pictures, most of them depicting her family. She has a large family picture of her, her mother and sister in front of their business on her ceiling above her bed, so she can look up at it every night.
-She has a queen sized bed with matte royal blue covers and a lot of pillows.
-She has a wolf plushie, affectionately named Wolfie, which she’s had since she was 2 years old. Wolfie has a top hat and bowtie.
!!MATURE THEMES AHEAD!!: discussion of death, discussion of cartels, discussions of weapons and violence, discussion of murder and a planned attack on a family.
The following headcanons discuss the surroundings of Clara’s death.
Family headcanon: Carmilla’s ex husband left her shortly after Clara’s birth, leaving her with two young daughters in a broken city in Mexico. Carmilla entered the weapons business, working for a well known and dangerous cartel. She started out delivering weapons but learned how to make them for a bigger payout. As her daughters grew up, she took bigger, more risky jobs to be able to protect them. One night a rival gang broke into their house and killed the family in cold blood.
-Clara was the first of Carmilla’s daughters to find out about her mother’s secret job, finding her making weapons in the garage when she was about 12 years old. Carmilla asked her to stay silent, but Clara told her older sister immediately.
-She was also the first to enter the family business, stealing a package Carmilla was supposed to deliver to the cartel. Clara delivered it instead and used the money she earned to buy her mother a birthday present. Carmilla told her not to do that, but reluctantly let Clara help with simple, risk free deliveries. Clara was 15.
-Clara befriended one of the cartel members, a bodyguard.
-Clara was the first one to die in the attack. When she was 19, her mother and sister were asleep after watching a movie. Clara was dozing off when she was startled wide awake by pounding on the door.
-Before she could even open it, the door was kicked open, hitting her in the head. She fell, her and her family were quickly grabbed and restrained.
-Clara was dizzy from the hit and confused, she vaguely heard shouting and crying.
-The last thing she saw as a human was her family, her mother’s and sister's faces as she was shot in the chest, the first death in the Carmine home invasion. Clara was 18 when she died.
-Clara’s cause of death was determined to be blunt force trauma to the head, and a fatal shot to the heart.
-She hides the shot mark under her shirt, ashamed of the moment she let her guard down.
LIKES/DISLIKES HEADCANONS.
Foods, colours, animals, and everything in between!
-Food: Anything spicy is a big hit! She hates bland and boring food and will often add peppers or some kind of hot sauce for that perfect kick with every meal! Except for breakfast, she’ll never try cereal with hot sauce again.
-Colours: Black, dark shades of green and blue. She’s not a fan of red, reminding her of the blood she saw on her hands when she died.
-Animals: Wolves, wolves, WOLVES! She loves any canine but mostly wolves! They remind her of how fiercely protective she is over her family! She doesn’t like birds, they creep her out.
-Music: Besides her own music, she loves music from her heritage! Flamenco, salsa, she’ll listen and sing along to it all! Classical music is a BORE though, it always makes her so sleepy.
-Movies: She was never huge on movies, but when she was little, she always watched the movie Balto, dreaming of snow. She hates movies with blood, it reminds her of her own weakness.
-A weird collection she has: Heart shaped stuff! If she’s out in the city and she sees a cool rock shaped vaguely like a heart, she’ll pocket it and show it to her family at home, some of her hearts are questionable, but she loves it all!
-A guilty pleasure: Watching the sunset from her balcony. It’s quiet and simple, she’s loved it since she was a kid.
-Her biggest fear: Being unable to try and protect her family, like when she died. She can’t handle the weak, pathetic feeling, she may have panic attacks when thinking about it.
CHARACTER HEADCANONS
How does Clara fall into the ensemble of hell? Who would she bond with, and who would she hate?
-Who from the entire cast would she hate the most?
The Vees, mainly Velvette, because of how she treats her mother.
-If she met the Hazbin Hotel staff and inhabitants, who would she bond with?
Vaggie, both are strong souls with a tragic past!
-Who would she most likely have a song with? About what?
With her mother and sister, a song about protecting each other no matter what, almost like an “Out for love” reprise
Thank you for reading all the way through!! I’m planning on making way more headcanons in the future! Feel free to ask for specific characters/headcanons in the comments!
A list of future projects:
-Odette Carmine
-Carmilla Carmine
-Zestial Morde
-Lute
-Adam
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fictoculus · 10 months
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౨ৎ a peek into their camera roll...
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send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications
FEAT... itto
A/N... i'm planning to do this with more characters in the future, so lmk who's camera roll you'd like to see next!
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✧ first and foremost, it wouldn't be itto's camera roll if it didn't have beetles! (he loves you more than beetles though, not to worry) there are beetles fighting, beetles on rocks, beetles on trees, beetles sleeping, beetles eating, even a beetle on his head, oh and a beetle on ushi. speaking of ushi, there are quite a few photos of him too, most of which when he's asleep or cheering itto on in his... courageous beetle battles.
✧ now that's over and done with, it's time to get to the more interesting photos, don't let him hear you say that though, you'll never hear the end of it.
✧ he has countless photos of you, probably hundreds, maybe even thousands, it's impossible to tell. initially, he had a folder named "my numero two-no", which he soon gave up on after returning home from your second date with 87 photos of you (and some of him too, his is numeru uno after all). let me share with you some of his favourites...
✧ a photo of him giving you a piggy back ride; his most prized possession. he misses you? he'll look at that photo. you're sad? well you're smiling now, because he's just sent you that photo. it's his home screen, his lock screen, his profile picture on almost every social media account he owns - the list goes on and on. shinobu is genuinely sick to death of that photo, and (mentally) retches every time she sees it.
✧ a photo he asked some passers-by to take of the two of you infront of the naganohara fireworks show, his right arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you close, his left hand holding up the peace sign. his smile is almost as bright as the fireworks themselves, lighting up your heart every time you look back on it. you're to the left of itto, also holding up the peace sign, but reaching up your other hand to hold his chin, squeezing his cheeks ever so slightly. he always says he looks silly, but you think he looks absolutely adorable and (of course) very, very handsome.
✧ last but not least, a series of photos showcasing the pair of you chasing each other around in an empty field. said photos were taken by genta (one of the arataki gang members), and not a single one of them is clear. scroll fast enough and it becomes a very blurry stop motion video of a beautiful couple chasing eachother lovingly through a romantic field of greenery... or atleast that's how genta put it. it was undeniably a complete mess, but the pair of you loved them nonetheless, and have laughed at them a hundred times over, itto's face mere moments before he loses his footing never failing to amuse you.
✧ anyone could tell from this man's camera roll alone that he absolutely adores you; the way his eyes shine whenever he scrolls onto a picture of you giving it away, whether you're beaming at the camera or pouting at itto, who was smirking back at you with a smug expression.
✧ there's a video that you don't even know about, but the oni finds himself watching over and over. it was taken, unsurprisingly, by the gang members from the perspective of a bush... can you see where this is going? once the camera is finally wiped clean and starts to focus, you come into frame, seemingly returning from a visit to the bathroom. it's crystal clear when and where this was recorded: yours and itto's first date. only after the 6 minute mark do things start to get interesting, the harsh muttering and whispered bickering silencing as itto leans over the table, inches away from your face but hesitating to get any closer... until you pull him in by the chin, pouring your entire heart out into this singular kiss. every time he watches it back, his heart skips a beat, remembering how you had been so gentle with him, yet showed him just how much you wanted him. it truly was a magical night.
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thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you'd like me to write next!
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© FICTOCULUS 2023; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own
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missbabyjay · 1 year
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Vinyls - Joel Miller x Reader
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SMUT!!
MASTERLIST - CHECK OUT MY PAGE FOR MORE!
I've been on a huge music kick lately which is what inspired this. I see so many angsty/dark fics with Joel on here, I just had to add some sweet fluff. This takes place in Jackson, and definitely strays a little from the original story line of TLOU.
Warnings/Content: Explicit, mentions of alcohol, Fluff, A little bit of smut
Summary: Music has always been a huge part of your life and when you're exploring the house given to you in Jackson you come upon some vinyl records.
Word Count: 1.6 K
. . .
You couldn’t deny the excitement that washed over you after you arrived in Jackson. The overall environment seemed so close to life before the pandemic; children playing and laughing, electricity, warmth, food. You, Joel and Ellie were given a house to stay in - it was large, inviting and had mostly been untouched for the past couple of decades. You appreciated how it was almost stuck in the time before the world went to shit. As sad as it was to see the life of a family that was no longer present, you were grateful for the space and company of the village. You finally felt safe after trekking across the country. 
You had been in Jackson for about a month. The community had been quite accepting of the three of you, and you quickly became somewhat comfortable with life once again - something you never thought you would feel. You took on work at the dining hall as well as the greenhouses. Life almost began to seem normal. 
One day you were exploring the left behind items in the basement of the house, and you came across a few boxes of old records, as well as a record player. It had been years since you heard music, something that had been a huge part of your life before the pandemic. Your parents were musicians on the side of their full time office jobs. Instead of getting a babysitter they would often bring you along to their gigs. Your love for music began at a very young age - your parent’s shows being some of your first memories in life. 
You were about halfway through your teens when the outbreak day occurred. Your world quickly came crashing down and your dreams were forced to shrivel up and die; survival was now your top priority. You had always dreamed of becoming a musician yourself, but in a world ridden with sickness and death that was a foolish dream to continue having. 
You lightly dusted off the record player with a tattered rag and managed to bring it upstairs, making sure to run down and grab the boxes of records afterwards. As you were fiddling around with the delicate machine you heard footsteps on the stairs coming from upstairs. Ellie’s voice rid the silence of the room, “Whatcha got there?” she said with genuine curiosity. That was one of the things you loved most about Ellie - she was so curious. Being her age, as well as being raised under a corrupt government, meant that she didn’t get the pleasure of experiencing life before, or anything similar to it. You were glad she was here in Jackson. You were hopeful to give her a taste of the life you had at her age. 
“Oh hey El, it’s a record machine, ever heard of one?” you chuckled jokingly, as you began sorting through the boxes - confident that you would find at least one of your favourite bands considering the abundance of vintage records that sat before you. “I-I think so?” she confusingly admitted. Your lips curved into a quiet and gentle smile as she joined you on the floor. She helped herself to the second box, pulling out the records; gently gliding her fingers across them, analysing the shape and texture of the frayed sleeves. 
“A-ha! I knew I’d find a good one,” you exclaimed as you pulled out the record titled “Saturday Night Fever”.
“Saturday night fever? What the fuck kind of name is that?” Ellie snorted as she snatched the vinyl sleeve from your hands.
You giggled, “This is disco music El, it’s so fun to dance to… I promise,” you raised your eyebrows in a goofy manner while you cautiously blew the dust off the vinyl and fixed it on to the player. Ellie watched as you lifted the arm gently and placed it on the delicate surface of the record, hoping you found the right groove for the song you were expecting to hear. You looked at Ellie with excitement as the room began to fill with music. She had a sort of goofy look on her face, but you quickly grabbed her hands lifting to her feet. You Should Be Dancing by the Bee Gees was filling the room as you danced around, hand in hand with Ellie. She had such an innocently happy smile spread across her face, giggling every few seconds at your ridiculous dance moves. 
===========
Joel’s POV
Joel was not expecting to be met with music when he entered the house. It had also been quite some time since he was able to enjoy instruments collectively working together to create a sweet, lively melody. It brought him back to life before the outbreak; going out with Tommy to the country bars in Texas, enjoying his glass of whiskey while the music encapsulated his soul. 
He cautiously walked through the hallway and peeked his head around the corner to see you and Ellie carelessly letting the music move your bodies, while giggling like maniacs. Joel wasn’t a man of many feelings, he usually kept quiet and emotionless, but you and Ellie began to pick away at that part of him. A small smile crept onto his face as he continued to watch the two of you.
Joel felt a mixture of feelings towards you. He despised you when he first met you in the QZ a handful of years ago. You seemed too happy and naive living in such a sad and gruesome world. He worried that you would get yourself killed, or get him killed, but he always felt the need deep down inside to help you. You were quite young when Joel met you, just barely thirty, and you were nothing but alone. Maybe his regret of not doing enough for Sarah was what drove him to help you.
He’ll never forget the day he told you he was leaving to take Ellie, you were nearly begging on your knees for him to take you. Without Joel you didn’t have anyone in the QZ, and Joel knew that. He was hopeful to get you somewhere safe, and when Jackson became an option he knew it was best to settle down and keep both you and Ellie there. 
It made his heart warm to watch you give Ellie an experience she’d never had before. He hesitated to interrupt, not wanting to ruin the moment or scare the two of you. He waited until the song had finished, watching you engulf Ellie into your loving arms he decided to speak up, “Look at you two,” he cooed.
===========
Both you, and Ellie, turned your heads to see Joel watching from the archway. “Hey there cowboy,” you winked, giving Ellie one last squeeze before making your way over to Joel; tenderly placing your lips on his rough, bearded cheek. Joel wrapped his arms around you, picking you up and spinning you around - something he had never done before. It made you giggle, sending vibrations from your chest to his. Joel nuzzled his face into your neck, peppering you with sweet kisses. 
“Ooook, I’m gonna go keep reading my book,” Ellie stated awkwardly, widening her eyes at the both of you before proceeding to go back to her room. Joel laughed deeply before pulling away from you. “Want to dance m’lady?”. Yet another thing you didn’t expect for Joel. He never seemed to be like this, but you figured moving to Jackson was enough to calm him down and allow some of his personality shine through. You loved this side of Joel.
You nodded, inviting him to grab your hand and slide his other around your waist; pulling you close as the two of you grooved around the room. The close proximity of your bodies allowed you to soak in his scent - masculine and woodsy. It sent shivers down your spine. You moved your hands to grasp his large arms, his hands snaking around you. You ran your hands up and down, feeling the rough texture of his jacket. 
You loved everything about Joel and he felt those same feelings about you. The both of you had your flaws, but you embraced them. The two of you fit together like puzzle pieces. 
Joel’s hand trailed upwards to your face, brushing the back of his fingers against your delicate skin. His eyes glowed with love and lust as he deeply gazed at you. “I love you,” subconsciously slipped out of Joel’s lips. Your eyes widened when you clued in, the music slightly muffling his words. You looked at Joel, “I-” you began, “I love you too, Joel”. Joel lifted his hand to your chin, tenderly moving his face to meet yours in a passionate kiss. Your body had been stricken with surprise from Joel’s words, but as your lips intertwined your feelings dissipated into pleasure. 
Your hands quickly made their way to Joel’s hair, tangling his curls within your fingers. You pulled at the strands as you deepened the kiss. You could taste the residual whiskey on his tongue, nearly making you drunk for him. “Baby girl,” Joel disconnected from your lips, placing kisses across your cheeks as he began his journey to your neck. A moan slipped from your lips as Joel began nipping and licking at your neck, “Joel.”
“Up,” Joel demanded, lifting you to wrap your legs around his abdomen. You followed his instructions, resuming the embrace your lips shared with Joel’s, running your tongue against his bottom lip aggressively. He allowed you to tangle your soft and aching tongue with his. You held on for dear life as Joel tumbled onto your shared bed, keeping you cradled to his chest. 
You swore you could melt in his arms, his touch made your body feel as hot as burning embers. The two of you undressed each other and electricity sparked as your bare skin touched. The warmth radiated against your bodies, leaving almost no need for covers. You spent the remainder of the night basking in the company of each other; showering in loving kisses and reaching your high together.
. . .
Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! <3
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Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [1]
chapter one, act one: antichrist
~first chapter of my Matty Healy x bandmate!OC, more coming soon
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January 3rd 2010
"No."
"Please?"
Tommie groans twirling around on her cousin's bed so she's lying on her stomach instead of her back and looks over to where he's sitting at his desk chair.
"No, Adam, I don't want to."
"No," He says, in his usual 'I know better than you' tone, tilting his head in a way that reminds her exactly of her aunt, "You're afraid."
She gives him an unimpressed look and goes back to looking over the back of the old Radiohead vinyl she'd pinched from his little shelf of records that's tucked away in one corner of his bedroom.
"I don't wanna be in your stupid X-Factor wannabe band with your junkie friends."
"Please," A sarcastic voice comes from the bedroom door as it's pushed open, the self-made 'please knock' sign obviously meaning nothing to the intruder. The vinyl is snatched from her hands and the single bed dips with the newly added weight, "We're at least BGT worthy."
She rolls her eyes sitting up as he moves the record out of her reach, "Don't mess with me today, Healy."
"Aw," He pouts looking over at her, lashes fluttering in mock flattery, "But it's my favourite thing to do."
"Why do you always have to piss me off on my first day here?" She questions, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
He flashes his smile, wild curly hair falling in his eyes, "Because it's my favourite pastime."
Adam snatches the record back, putting it onto his pile on the floor as he raises a brow, "Shouldn't you be at work?"
"Day off to welcome Miss Thomas."
"Day wasted." She mutters from behind him.
Matty mimics her in a high-pitched voice and she rolls her eyes. He grabs one of her ankles and pulls it down to his lap, tickling at her socked foot causing her to squeal and grip one of Adam's plain white pillows as her defence.
Matty flinches as the pillow is brought down upon his head, he dramatically grips his shirt and flops onto his back to look up as he gives his dramatic act of a death scene.
"Tommie!"
She sighs and goes to the door, "Yeah?"
"Your mother's on the phone, she's been calling you. Come down here."
She inwardly groans but forces herself down the stairs. Matty turns to Adam as soon as she's gone. Listening to the footsteps pause at the bottom of the stairs, a faint 'hello?' coming a few seconds later.
"Did she agree?"
"No."
He groans, flopping back on the bed again, curly hair creating a large painting upon the plain sheets. "Why?"
"Said she wants to do A Levels, go to university and- I quote, 'have a chance of making a name for herself'."
"That's what we're doing, making a name for ourselves."
"In a band about driving?"
Matty sighs, "I have a vision."
Adam sighs, muttering under his breath as he twists his chair around to look at the wall behind his desk. Focusing on a picture of him and Tommie when they were kids, back when he still lived in Wales before his dad got the job in Manchester.
"And the vision," Matty continues, lifting his hands in the air in front of him, "Has me upfront, some super hot models on each arm," Adam laughs at that part, and Matty lets out what can be described as a giggle, "Then you on guitar, George drumming away, Ross with his bass... and Tommie, right there with us, strumming her guitar and singing our songs."
"She's not into that stuff, you know that. She's too shy."
"She is not shy."
"Matty, it took her six years to speak to any of you."
He shrugs, "She was younger then."
"The stage isn't the place she should be, she's not comfortable with it, don't force her."
He sighs, "Do you think she'll help us on the album? If this thing goes through and we get the deal, do you think she'll help?"
"Of course she will, she's been with us since the start-"
The door reopens and she walks in quickly, grabbing the hoodie she had left on side before leaving again. Matty and Adam share a look before following after her as she charges down the stairs and out the front door.
"Hey, Tommie, wait."
Adam runs out barefoot as Matty shoves on Mrs Hann's heels, stumbling after them, "Tommie, wait."
Adam catches her arm, brow-raising, "Where are you going? What's wrong?"
She sighs, taking in a deep stuttering breath to try and regain her own thoughts. Everything is a jumbled mess and she shakes her head quickly to focus her eyes.
"My father-"
"What happened?" Matty asks from behind them.
Tommie's voice catches in her throat when she sees him standing there and Adam turns around to him, "Go back inside, Matty."
"What's happened?"
"Just- go inside, Matty."
Adam turns back to Tommie, gripping her hand a little tighter, "What's he done?"
"He's threatening court," She shakes her head and scoffs, "He's not wanted nothing to do with me for fifteen years, Adam, why does he want me now? It seems like when I've stopped trying to have a dad is when he's wanted to be one."
She pulls away to step back, "I'm uh, going down the shop."
"Tommie, come back inside, we'll chuck a film on-"
"No, no, I want some sweets, be back in a bit."
"Tom..."
⋆。 ゚☁︎。 ⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。 ⋆
"Hey."
She sighs slowly looking away from him as she hears his boots crunch on the gravel, "Go away, Healy."
He drops himself down beside her, looking out over the rugby pitch in front of them, the fence restricting the view of the local Wilmslow team trains.
They sit in silence, he doesn't say a thing after his initial greeting, just rests his elbows on his knees and keeps his gaze forward.
She taps her foot impatiently, kicking up dust and rocks as she plays with the strings of her hoodie.
"My dad, he never really stuck around," Tommie says suddenly, "He was there you know, picked me up every Wednesday, dropped me with my grandparents then went out, took me to football games on Sundays. But, it was more like a chore than him doing parent stuff."
"I uh, didn't know."
"I never realised he was a bad dad to me until my little sister turned three, two years ago. I was sitting in their living room. He came in from work, kissed his wife on the head, kissed my sister on the cheek, then sat at the table with my step-brother to help him with his homework before making dinner."
Matty doesn't open his mouth to say anything, which she's shocked by, he just listens, "I just sat there watching, and the entire time all I could think was that I wasn't worth the effort. He does everything for those kids, and I feel so bad because he's an absolutely amazing father to them. But then it makes me wonder, why couldn't he be that for me? Why couldn't he be there? Pick me up, make me dinner, help with my homework?"
She rubs at her nose with her sleeve and then shakes her head as she chuckles through the rising tears, "It's stupid."
"It's not stupid," He says quietly, his hand lifts and he hesitates to pat her back but settles on brushing some hair back from her face, "You have a right to feel that way."
She buries her head into her folded arms and grips her elbows as she breathes in deeply, breathing in the scent of the grass and dirt, focusing on the yells of the rugby players in the distance.
"Tommie, look at me please."
She sighs and lifts her head slowly, "I didn't know that. You don't," He pauses, not sure if he should say what he's thinking, not wanting to make the situation worse but he does anyway, "You don't talk about your family much. Just Adam and your grandparents."
She sighs, "You wanna know?"
"I-" He does, he really does. He wants to know everything.
"My single working mother and I live with my grandparents because we can't afford our own place. I'm the oldest sibling, by six years, of four, two brothers, one half, one step, and a half-sister. Don't talk to my dad much anymore, only once a month when he argues with his wife and remembers I exist, my youngest brother, JJ, he has a different mother too, dad speaks to him more than me but not much. He's the only sibling I speak to."
"Why don't you just move up here? For good?"
She sighs, "This is my last holiday up here, Healy."
"What?"
"I've got a job now, retail, it's awful but it's money, and I'm about to do my A levels-"
"You can still come up for the summer."
"And have a whole six weeks off work? I can't do that, I could barely have this week off to come up."
He sighs, "But, you were supposed to come up for your birthday this year. First birthday in Manchester."
She shrugs, tracing over the rips in her jeans, "Don't like my birthday anyway."
He gasps dramatically, hitting her shoulder, "Why? I love my birthday, getting presents and lots of attention, it's great."
"Not when you're the oldest sibling with broke parents." He tilts his head and she sighs, turning away from his gaze, "My mother's at work, most of the time my grandparents are too, and my dad hasn't remembered a birthday since I was five, that was only when my nannie was alive back then. He had her to keep her on track all the time. When she died, that's when it all went downhill."
"It is now my life's purpose to make you like your birthday."
She scoffs, "I'm not like you, Healy. Don't like big things and loads of attention, not made for it."
He shrugs, "It doesn't always need to be like that, it can be quiet, small things."
She shrugs again, then he goes back to the issue of her not coming up for the summer, "Why don't you just quit? Get a job up here for the summer then go back."
"It's not that easy, we need the money. And if I leave and they don't take me back, what then? And I can't risk worrying about that when I need to be focusing on school. If I don't focus on my results, I won't get into a good university, if I don't get into a good uni I can't get a good job. If I don't get a good job with a decent salary then- then I'll never get out. I'll never leave the stupid village and escape the past. I need to leave, Matty."
She runs her hands through her hair, burning her head into her knees. He moves his hand to rub at her back, careful not to startle her. He knows how she feels about touch and boundaries. But when she doesn't flinch and leans back into his touch, he lets his palm lay flat drawing circles into her hoodie.
"You're taking on too much."
She scoffs, "We don't all have rich parents."
He looks over at her now, watching her run both hands through her hair to tuck the stands behind her ears, "Is that what this is about, money? I can help-"
"No," She says quickly, regretting her little dig, "No, I don't want your help. You work hard for your money, in that shitty hippie cafe-"
"Shitty? It's many... questionable things, but it's not... that shitty."
She laughs a little and looks away, "What about the album?"
She sighs slowly, "Healy-"
"We're gonna get one, we are, I can feel it, one more gig, that guy, said he could get us signed up with a label if we record some EP's."
"I'm not in the band, that's your guys' things."
"You're a part of the band, Tommie."
"No, I'm not. I just sit in on your practices with you."
"Okay," He nods, "Answer me this," She hums, "Do you help us by playing guitar?"
"Well, sometimes."
"Yes or no questions."
"Yes."
He nods, "Do you come to every gig with us?- When you're here?"
"Yes."
"Every practice?"
"Yes."
"Did you let me steal some of your work for our songs?"
"Yes- what?"
He chuckles as she turns to look at him quickly, "What songs? What work?"
"My new songs," He says leaning away from her hand that reaches out to hit him, "And your poetry."
"You read my notebook?"
He catches her hand this time when she tries to hit him, "It was open."
"Open?"
"On the kitchen table, I just glanced... for a single second."
"I hate you so much."
She pushes him down, using his head to stand and starts walking away, he scrambles to his feet following after her, "It's really good, and I only borrowed one line."
"Which one?"
"Not telling."
She rolls her eyes, walking on and he has to jog to keep up with her long strides despite having a good few inches on her.
"Vogue."
"What?"
"Vanity Fair."
Then it dawned on her, "That was my best line, Healy!"
He giggles and runs off but she chases after him, shouting down the street, "I'm still not joining your shitty band."
He rolls his eyes, grabbing her arm to drag her towards the old shop in town, "Where are we going?"
"Shops, to cheer you up."
"Ooh," She rubs her hands together with a grin, "You gonna be my sugar daddy now, Healy?"
He swings an arm around her shoulder, smiling down at her, "Of course sugar baby, what do you want, a Ferrari?"
"More of a red bull girl. There's just something about Sebastian Vettel in that race suit." She makes a noise close to a moan and watches the redness spread up his cheeks.
"Well, I can't get you a Vettel, but I can get you something very close."
He moves the hand hanging loosely over her shoulder to push her glasses up her face and then cup over her eyes and a smile spreads across her face as she blindly walks along the path in front of them. "Jenson?"
"Nope."
He stops them, turning her with his hands still covering her eyes. He drops his hand and she looks up, raising a brow.
"Mr. Bolas."
"Even better."
They head into the old charity shop, glancing around the new boxes, Bolas looks up from his desk, peering over the top of his reading glasses.
"New box out the back, Healy."
"Thanks, Mr. Bolas."
Tommie waves at him and he sends a sweet smile before she's dragged by Matty down the old creaking stairs and into the storage room.
He lets go of her to sit crisscrossed in front of the box, taking out the old records one by one, "Ooh, you'll like this one."
She moves the old box of books to sit beside him, taking the old minted edition Black Sabbath record from his hands, "Holy shit, this is cool."
"Swapsies?"
She passes over the box of books she's yet to look in so she can look through the records as he looks through the books, picking out an old battered Tennesse Williams one.
"Hey, I'm doing that for A level this year."
"Have it."
She takes it from him flicking through, smiling at the little annotations someone has put in the play.
"I have his poetry book."
She looks at the Jack Kerouac book in his hand, "I think I've read some of that, it's good."
"Yeah?"
He flicks it open, looking through the book a little, "Woah, that's stupid."
He starts laughing and she nudges his arm so she can look, '1st June the 1975'.
"I've never seen anyone say 'the' before they write the year."
"That's weird, suppose we say it like that half the time though."
He hums in agreement, finger tracing over the words of the page, "1975, Jesus, this book is old."
"You getting it?"
He shrugs then shakes his head, "Nah."
"Fine, then I will."
She adds it atop her Streetcar Named Desire book pushing them aside as she goes back through the records, picking out a few more for herself and some old sixties ones for Adam.
"The 1975." He says again.
She rolls her eyes, "You're not going to shut up about that are you?"
"Nope."
He hears the chime of his phone and digs it out of his back pocket, flicking it open to see the text from the guy he used to go to school with.
"Ah, great." He grins down at the device, typing out a reply.
"What?"
He drags her to her feet, carrying her things for her, "This guy I used to go to school with is training to become a tattoo artist, he's the one that's done all ours. He has a free spot this afternoon."
"Are you getting another one?"
"Yeah, wanna come with?"
"Can I get one?"
"Can you forge your mother's signature?"
She nods without a second thought, "How'd you think I went on that skiing trip? Mam never would've let me go if she knew I needed permission."
He chuckles, putting the things on the counter to get scanned, and leans his side against the table, "What will you get?"
She shrugs, "I don't know, like a circle or something?"
"Why?"
She answers with another lift of her shoulders, "Or a box, like a little frame."
"Why?" He asks again.
"Well, I have like twenty minutes to decide on one. The shape is simple, easy. No pressure, and I can fill it later on, or cover it when I decide."
"What are you having?" She asks as they smile at Mr Bolas before taking the little paper brown bag full of their new stuff.
"Finishing off my we are king's tattoo."
She nods, "We should get a matching one."
"Like what?" She turns to him as he holds the door open for them to walk outside.
He looks up in thought, "1975."
She shakes her head, "That's really stuck with you, huh?"
He nods, "It's just so-" He trails off, "Weird."
He looks back down at her when he finishes and she shrugs, "Sure."
"Sure?"
"Why not?"
⋆。 ゚☁︎。 ⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。 ⋆
"Look."
Tommie looks up from where she's waiting, tearing her eyes away from the George Orwell book in her hands to see Matty's freshly wrapped tattooed skin. Showing not one, but two new tattoos. '1975' then a large rectangle box, much like the one she'd decided to have.
"Are you joking?"
"What?"
She moves her arm to show her 'the 1975' tattoo on her wrist. "You said the."
"Well," He shrugs, sitting beside her, "It looked a bit silly."
She moves her untatted arm to punch at his one and he gasps when she hits the freshly inked skin. "Ow."
"Good," She turns away, "Now I look like an idiot. I don't even know anyone born in 1975."
"It's cool." He tries to reassure and he glances at him in the corner of her eye, "Cool?"
"Yeah... cool. Edgy. Modern."
He nods, more to reassure himself than her and turns away, "I'm sorry, it's still matching."
"Let's go before I kill you."
"You could never."
"I could," She shrugs, "And with the amount of criminal minds I watch, I could get away with it."
He nods in thought, "You know what else you could get away with?"
"Hmm?"
"Being in a really cool band."
She rolls her eyes, "Matthew..."
He sighs, "Come on, Tommie, why not? What's stopping you?"
"A lot actually, money, job, school, mam-"
He rolls his eyes, "You can still go to school, I mean, you've basically finished your GCSE's anyway."
"I'm not skipping out on my A levels, I have dreams, Matty."
"Dreams?"
She nods, "I want to be a writer, and do good things. My English teacher, she entered me in a poetry competition, if I win I get to publish my own book."
He watches the light rise in her eyes, her cheeks tint pink as she hides herself behind her hair, keeping her gaze low on the floor and tilting her head down so he can't see over the baseball cap.
"That's great, but what then?"
She looks up at him raising a brow, "You release a poetry book, it's good, yeah, but what happens to it? You die, grow old, then years later they study it in schools making kids hate it and not actually understand it, so what?"
"So what?"
"Turn it into songs, put it out there for people to study now, to enjoy, make music, let people feel what you feel-"
"They can do that with poetry too, you know."
"You love music, you're the biggest music geek I know despite your lack of any knowledge of anything outside of Arctic Monkeys-"
"Hey, I like the Cure too."
He ignores her comment and continues on, "You're the second best guitar player I know- after me of course- you can sing really good, don't deny it, I was at Mrs H's birthday I heard you-"
"I was drunk-"
"Still good."
She sighs and looks away from him, it's a sharp sigh, in and out quickly. Her hand grips the tote bag on her shoulder, the plastic wraps around her tattoos scrunching up and making an awkward uncomfortable sound.
"What if it goes wrong?" She asks, he closes his mouth at that watching her ginger eyebrow raise in question, "What if we spend years hopelessly putting out music for no one to like it, for nothing to happen, what if we're stuck living in a dingy van in the middle of a field because none of us have a single qualification between us to get a solid job?"
"That's a lot of what ifs," He says, then he grabs her hand, squeezing it, "But what if we made it?"
"Matty, I-" She sighs pausing in their walking to look up at him, "I'd love it if we made it, if we got to share your music with everyone, but, it's not me."
"But it can be."
"Matty."
She turns slowly, but he catches her arm, walking around her to stop her from going on, "No, listen please."
"I have only ever dreamed of one thing in my entire life," He says desperately, "One thing. This band, me, Hann, George, Ross and you, the five of us. Just like those summers in the shed."
She turns her whole head away and he moves to be in her line of sight, "Please, Tommie."
"I-" She sighs again, "I'll help. But, I'm not being in the band, but I'll help. I'll help Adam with guitar riffs and look over your lyrics if you want. I'll even let you borrow, with credit, some lines from my notebook."
"Great, welcome to the band."
"Not in the band."
"Tommie," He says sternly, "You've always been a part of the band."
~thank you for reading! part two is being published later on today with the next parts coming next week! Sorry that the first few chapters and slow and jumpy, just trying to get to the good parts
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nectar-cellar · 11 months
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Get to Know Me - Sims Edition
i am so late to this but thank you to everyone who tagged and mentioned me!! i loved reading your answers, i love being nosy.
let me get this first q out of the way:
Who's your favourite sim that you've made?
it's a tie between my 2 little meow meows pictured above 🥺
amir because he's the oc i'm most attached to and have most fully developed
vlad because i just love the way his sim turned out and he's such a fun character to think about
if they ever met, vlad would be like "greetings." and amir would be like "bro what the fucckkk" 😭
speaking of vampires i also love the idea of au-vampire-amir being this ashamed, existential crisis having vegetarian vampire who struggles with controlling and hiding his bloodlust.
i never get bored coming up with ideas for those 2.
rest of my answers below the cut :3
What's your favourite Sims death?
it's been YEARS since i intentionally made any of sims die. i barely do gameplay these days and i am attached to the sims i make. but when i used to play sims chaotically, i preferred to "accidentally" murder sims by fire instead of deleting the pool ladder. i would furnish their houses with the cheapest stoves and fireplaces, and sit back and watching the inevitable unfold... it was the final destination fan in me.
Alpha CC or Maxis Match?
i can't live without alpha hair and i love a well done piece of alpha clothing.
Favourite Mod?
CmarNYC morphing penis 😐
for a sfw mod, pose player was truly a game changer, can't play without it.
First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?
i never bought any of them 💅 the first one i p*rated was late night because umm a fancy city, bars and clubs, celebs and vampires, 2000s hoe clothes... what more could you want!
Do you pronounce live mode or aLIVE or LiVing?
a-live!
Have you made a simself?
no ❤
Which is your favorite EA hair color?
if we're talking about TS4, i think the ginger hair colour is okay and the grey too. for TS3, i don't use any of the default hair colour presets.
Favorite EA hair?
i've tried so hard and i just cannot enjoy any of them compared to the alpha cc hair available. in my opinion this is the least offensive one, the "teddy" from the store:
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Favorite life stage?
young adult
Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?
i'm in it for cas and the storytelling medium
Are you a CC creator?
hehe...
Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?
i consider all the people i frequently engage with to be my simblr friends!! 💗
Do you have a YouTube for sims?
i've considered recording, editing and uploading speed CAS videos but it seems like a lot of effort 😭
How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?
i've always preferred creating masculine male sims/characters, that hasn't changed throughout the years. i've learned how to take better pictures, how to style my sims better, how to create the kinds of clothes i want to style them in, and i've learned my preferred slider settings and facial features/proportions. i make the same "genre" of male sims over and over and over again, so my style hasn't really changed, but my skills have improved and i've solidified my aesthetic which i am proud of :D
Who's your favourite CC creator?
i really can't pick a favourite because there is just so much sheer talent and a thriving cc community even today, but if i had to pick one, i would say rustynail. i used the shit out of their cc back in the day. everything my sims wore was straight off the runway darling... rusty brought glamour and high fashion to the sims! an inspiration.
How long have you had a simblr?
since even before 2013 😭 tumblr was my main social media for many years LMFAOOOOO and i made a simblr after following many ts3 blogs, being wowed by their screenshots, and i wanted to join in on the fun and wanted to download all the cool cc people were making... that was the start of my ts3 obsession !
How do you edit your pictures?
i use a gshade preset i made, then i mostly just crop and add text in gimp. i don't have the patience to edit my pics.
What expansion/ stuff pack is your favourite?
late night duh and seasons is a close second because it just makes the game so much more immersive and beautiful. pets is also a top one because it adds so much to the game, it's such a well thought out pack in my opinion, and what life simulator can be complete without pets?
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lemonlightt · 1 year
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qsmp hcs because i am so normal and not hyperfixated
(consisting of mariana, slimecicle, jaunaflipa, tilin, philza, chayanne, missa but i will add some of other streamers once i catch up on them & if i don't get flamed by the qsmp community. once qsmp expands more i may make another one of these (i will make another one of these in 2 weeks i have no thoughts but qsmphELPME!11!!1!!))
(i also have added some hcs i've seen on tumblr/twitter because they're all i can think about. btw looking for qsmp friends plsplspls i'm so lonely)
qcharlie is a demon and has absolutely no idea of it and progressively gains little demonic traits everytime he makes a deal
meanwhile qmariana is an angel and hold onto your seats guys this one is an absolute shocker! has absolutely no idea of it
everytime something awful happens to charlie (jauna dies, brutally scrambles tilin) his humansona becomes a little more unstable and he gets a little more sloshy - overtime he becomes straight up oobleck and gunks up the smp
qcharlie was raised in an environment that seemed like hell and it's responsible for the fact he doesn't really know how to be dad (his dad treated him like shit) and he's had no examples of healthy romantic relationships
qcharlie and qmariana are absolutely head over heels for eachother they're just losers and find it hard to express it adequately or meaningfully (this does not make them any less dysfunctional and annoying but they are my parental figures your honor)
qcharlie sews and knits and sewed a trans flag into each of their iconic clothing (qmariana's cape thingy, qcharlie's hearts and jauna's bows) he does the same for tilin as soon as he finds out they have the binary of none
qcharlie has been plotting qmariana's murder but qmariana is blind to it and all he cares about is hot steamy gay minecraft sex. they remind me of something but i can't put my finger on exactly what so if you can think of it tell me HJAHA
qcharlie would ADORE radiohead (specifically "nice dream" and "no surprises") (yes i am projecting, yes he is my favourite person and yes he is the only member to me i cant take it anymore)
jauna has golden highlights from her revival (think revivebur but stop thinking about revivebur)
jauna has vitiligo
jaunaflippa is allergic to dandelions but she will not hesitate to give them a blow and makes a little wish (usually about wanting her mom and dad to get along and be happy)
the jauna family get their glasses mixed up so they have to go through trial and error to find which prescription is theres (this takes 30 minutes because qcharlie and qmariana typically fight to the death over it/j)
when tilin died, jauna shared half of their bow with qquackity and keeps it tied neatly around her tail as a sentiment to her best friend but sometimes you'll catch her wearing it on one of her fingers. usually her pinkie (pinkie promise) or index finer
qcharlie and qmariana don't know how to braid in contrast to qwilbur who has spent hours experimenting with talullah to style her hair
qwilbur gives talullah a little walkman(?) thing for talullah to customise and records her cute little songs for her to listen to on the tapes when he's away from home
when qwilbur comes back from his travels, he will never ever fail to comes back with stories to tell, oneofakind gifts for talullah, songs for talullah to sing when she misses him, etc because that is simply how he loves
there is always music coming from talullah and qwilbur's home and it always brings joy to those who pass even if for just a moment
talullah has albinism
tallulah is disabled (canon examples: she has a different model to the rest of the eggs, she's clumsy and a little slow, her wings are underdeveloped) (she's basically just like me fr)
qmissa and qphilza are literally eldritch creatures. they look like the mothman fucker. they are a terrifying duo. here's a perfect example
qmissa is like 9'5 and qphilza is 5'2
qphil tells qmissa about his giant wife who is the god of death and is beautiful and qmissa doesn't believe his platonic husband could pull (spoiler alert he is proven wrong)
chayanne despises qwilbur because qmissa can play guitar better
chayanne dyes his hair pink to match techno and/or wears a little skull. techno is his hero and he is JUST like him frfr
speaking of which, when chayanne first killed a mob, qmissa helped turn it into a skull mask like his own and techno's. chayanne feels more confident wearing it and therefore never takes it off / alternatively qmissa made him a little mask from chayanne's eggshell
chayanne's favourite time of the day is when qphil tells him stories about techno
chayanne is nv like the rest of the eggs but is definitely more vocal than tilin for example (flaps his hands, exclaims excitedly, laughs a lot)
talullah and tilin are twins
tilin is part of the qquackity x qcharlie club upon finding out about the millions of failed attempts of qcharlie trying to flirt with qquackity
i dont think tilin hates qcharlie for what he did but i think they sure make his life a living hell/t
also tilin and jauna are in heaven with techno and they all bully trump. they make a circle around his cowering body and run around in circles while holding hands (this is a joke but not really)
general hcs that apply to all members/eggs:
there's few resources for clothing so the egg parents pass down their clothes to their eggs and the eggs mixnmatch it
the eggs use sign language to communicate as well as signs and doodles or use those little tablets with tts that nv people often use to communicate
extra: techno because he's my favourite character and isn't even in the smp!11!!11!1
techno is a sort of spirit and haunts his family, especially chayanne. he watches over all of the eggs. he hears all the little stories phil tells about him to his eggs. he'll hear chayanne say something he'd say and he goes YOOOOOOOOOOOOO excitedly and goes THATS MY BOY!!! uncle techno takes the eggs in when they get scrambled. when chayanne and talullah died techno gave them their lives back because it broke his heart to see them die just like that.
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desceros · 18 days
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Hiya;))))))))
🍄❄️🌿
(And stay hydrated 😘)
hi hi, thank you so much!! i appreciate the reminder c: also skipping the snowflake since it's answered :D
🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings
in round turn verse, donnie has always had a crush on you, but didn't know how to go about deal with it, so he tried to push you away by being a dick. plus, the way you natter on all the time makes it hard for him to concentrate since his brain just hooks on everything you say whether he wants it to or not, which is maddening. still, one night in the lair, he secretly recorded you laughing at one of his sarcastic jokes so hard you had to hold yourself up with the back of the couch, and it's that recording he references in the fic. every time he listens to it, it makes his stomach feel like it's going to twist out of his shell... but he loves listening to it all the same.
🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity
when i'm feeling blocked on a project, i'll swap to something that is, in some way, completely different, whether it's thematically, tonally, structurally, however. usually that's enough to get me out of a rut, but sometimes (especially if i haven't been writing for a while), it takes more than that. so i have a few tools in my pocket. one: go to tvtropes and hit randomize until you get three tropes that are something you could put in a fic (e.g., i just did it, and i got "tin can robot", "supernatural suffocation", and "disney death"), then see what comes out. for example, to me this is like, holy shit, perfect for a fic where donnie is experimenting with a robot, but the ninpo goes wrong and you suffocate, and he thinks you're dead but surprise you're okay, hurt comfort. boom, tvtropes did the hard part, i just connected the dots. two: find a prompt generator and roll until you have one. for example, i have one where it gives me a prompt and a character. then, i just write whatever that scene is, and--and this is VERY important--i keep it in my personal folders, but i don't post it OR delete it. i don't post it, which gets rid of aaaaaaall the stress of it needing to be "good." who cares?! no one is gonna see it but me! it's DONE and that's what matters. but also, i don't delete it, because eeevery once in a while, i go back and read them. are they any good? some of them are. some of them are terrible! but in all of them, i see things i would change to make them better. and THAT means that i am a BETTER WRITER. and nothing motivates you better than progress, which you can only see if you have old material of yours to compare to new material. three: just take a break! sometimes the creative juices aren't happening, and that's okay. go do something else. rewatch the show that you want to write fanfic for. go listen to the song that inspired it again. go click through the blog of the person whom you look up to. take a day. take two. take as many as you need. will you be rusty if you come back after a long time? of course. but know that you can Always come back to it, no matter how much time has passed. and don't forget, you don't have to post anything you write. if it sucks, keep it to yourself! who's gonna know?
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ten-ten31 · 2 months
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DC-19.one behind-the-scenes trivia fact you've learned somewhere and your thoughts on it.
The death of one Kon-El at the hands of Superboy Prime, I guess. I read somewhere that they actually wanted to kill Nightwing - but couldn't, really, because hes such a pivotal character and has ties to just about everyone(!) in the DC universe. And of course he's always been a fan favourite. But the team fighting Prime at that point was three people: Dick, Cassie Sandsmark, and Kon. And DC's track record killing off their female characters was abysmal. So it couldn't be Cassie, which is definitely fair enough. But that left Kon.
To be honest, I only started fangirling him after they had brought him back. I had no idea there even was a Kon-El or a Young Justice (or that Dick Grayson had graduated from being Robin) until around 2011. But I started reading all the old stuff, his new solo run, his old solo run, all the YJ comics, some Teen Titans stuff.
I knew he would quickly become my new favourite character (at least his pre-new52 self). And knowing he came back gave me quite the comfy perspective. I don't know how I would have reacted had I been around and reading comics at the time they did it!
To be fair, it was a typical hero's death, and something Kon probably even aspired to (as far as a teen feeling invincible can). And as hard as Kon's death hit his loved ones, it was nothing against what would have been had they killed of Dick. So I guess I've always been pretty okay with that executive decision.
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hostilemuppet · 3 months
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Seeing the Floyd perspective on the relationship makes me want to see the Creek perspective, especially the period where they were divorced. But also: Goddamn. This relationship really is the happiest either could get huh. I mean, Floyd could and CAN do better if he wanted, but I think it’s sweet how they chose each other.
okay heres my thoughts on creeks side of the situation, again keep in mind its just MY thoughts and not "canon" to the au
After Trolls 1 (a brief summary for the non-trolls fans following along at home: he was almost eaten by King Gristle so he sold (what he thought was) his entire species to save himself. He gets eaten by a BIGGER monster but he makes it out, somehow. Don’t think about it too hard) he lives alone in the woods for several months, before returning to Troll Village. People do NOT want him around, because, you know. Do I need to explain it? But Poppy let him back in, because she “feels bad for him” or whatever, and also they used to date so she thinks she has to. So he has a home, he’s back in his old pod, he even has his old job back! But no one wants to be around him, and he’s got only himself to blame.
Creek does NOT blame himself. He’s NEVER at fault, it’s always someone else’s. He devolves further into misanthropy, while still keeping up his at peace, Zen facade. He hates everyone. He hates Poppy. He hates Branch.
He tries to get back to how he was, establish himself as a musician, on top of teaching yoga. He gets a lot of fans, but he’s still pretty... controversial, to say the least. How could he not be? He was almost responsible for hundreds of deaths. But worse things haven’t stopped people from stanning. Look at your real life Twitter trending tab if you don’t believe me!
After all tribes are at peace, he makes an off colour comment about how rowdy and loud Rock trolls are when someone stops by his yoga class and disrupts it for his much more well behaved Pop students. Obviously, canon typical racism is a pretty big no-no, so he gets a lot of flack. Hence, the collab with Riff, which doesn’t actually help his reputation at all because Riff immediately took to Twitter to call Creek an asshole.
Then, Creek decides he’s been going at this all wrong. he doesn’t need to bend over backwards to make himself look better; he just needs to make the people he HATES look WORSE! As much as he hates to admit it, Branch is actually pretty spotless (and is, you know, dating the Queen, so...). But, he has FOUR brothers, two of which are single and one of which is infamous for whoring himself out. The adoring public are more willing to crucify their idols for victimless sex scandals than they are for genuine atrocities. This is when Creek pays someone (several someones, actually, but only one of them was successful) to seduce Floyd, record it without his knowledge, and send Creek the footage so he can leak it and tank Brozone’s reputation. We’ve been over how this didn’t work out for him in the way he wanted, but that doesn’t mean it was entirely a waste of time. He broke Floyd a little more.
A couple months pass. Creek continues to get in controversies that he could easily avoid if he simply stepped out of the spotlight, but he can’t, because he is addicted to clout and still believes he is never at fault. He finds out Riff has collabed with Floyd, and since Riff is one of the many, many trolls who are dead to Creek, he throws his little adult man tantrum and decides it’s personal, and he needs to take matters into his own hands. If you want it done right, you should just do it yourself. He starts frequenting Floyd’s favourite gay bar until by some miracle they’re in the same place at the same time. You know how things go.
Creek wakes up the next morning sore. Y'know, because of the drugs. Mostly. He’s alone. He’s mad, that his plan didn’t work. But he can still save it, and next time they run into each other he asks for Floyd’s number, saying how he really wants this to go further, he felt a connection. He did not feel a connection. Creek is not attracted to other men. They start dating, and he couldn’t be happier; not because he likes Floyd, obviously, but because he’s sure Branch is dying inside. I mean, yeah, Branch barely reacts any more past the first week, but he’s probably just really good at faking tranquillity. Creek knows how to fake tranquillity, too.
The relationship lasts, a lot longer than he thought it would, honestly. He thought it’d last a couple weeks at most, before Branch tried to kill him. But no such luck, instead, he’s stuck being couple-y, doing couple-y things, with a man he feels nothing for. They engage in a lot of PDA, and Creek buys Floyd a lot of gifts (that he insists were HIS ideas, NOT Floyd’s), they’re basically attached at the hip! And Creek genuinely thinks he’s on top of the situation. Poor, sweet, innocent Floyd, or whatever. He’s The Sensitive One! There’s no way Floyd knows what’s going on. He's be inconsolable if he did.
So when Floyd pushes him to prove how much Creek loves him, when he doesn’t, the only thing he can think of is to propose. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Honestly, he was pretty sure Floyd would say no, since they’d only been going out about half a year, and if that’s the end of the relationship, at least he could peddle it for sympathy points from the public. Unfortunately, Floyd is fucking crazy, and said yes.
Now Creek has a husband. He is still not into men, but he has a husband. He moves out of his pod and into Floyd’s mansion. This is it, he thinks. This is the rest of his life. He still keeps up the act, of course. He can’t have Floyd catching on. But he’s kinda bummed about his fate as a trophy husband for someone he feels nothing for.
He gets his first egg a month or two later, and is surprised to find that Floyd had a matching one. Creek might not care for Floyd, but he never thought he’d be a dad, and he gets. Emotional? He didn’t think he was CAPABLE of crying happy tears any more! Not that he’d let Floyd know, of course. The eggs hatch a month later (Floyd insisted on their names) and Creek is actually, genuinely happy. For a bit.
A month after that, four months into their marriage, everything falls into the open. Creek finds out that Floyd knew he never loved him, but he was playing Creek like 3D chess. And he’s mad, of course, but what is he gonna do, divorce Floyd? They have kids! Plus, you know, Floyd’s blackmailing him. “Tricking a man into marrying you and having kids with him” wouldn’t exactly be good for Creek’s reputation, not to mention how Floyd knows a lot of his personal embarrassing secrets now. From that point, things ramp up a couple notches.
No longer having to pretend everything is hunky dory in the privacy of their own homes, things escalate into all out warfare. And Creek can’t lie, it’s kind of an adrenaline rush, having to sleep next to the guy who you hate more than anything. Which is another thing that freaks Creek out! He actually hates Floyd more than Poppy, or even Branch! Don’t get him wrong, thinking about either of them for too long still fills him with white hot rage, but he doesn’t get the opportunity when Floyd’s wrapping his arms around him and acting all sappy in public, knowing they’re gonna go home and choke each other. Non sexually. Okay, maybe a little sexually. He’s still not into boys.
Then, they get comfortable. And things become too “real” for Floyd, who leaves, and divorces him, and doesn’t even try to get PARTIAL custody. Creek is shocked, at first, but then decides this is the best possible outcome. They’re no longer together, it’s NOT Creek’s fault, and he has sole custody of the kids he loves so dearly! Plus, he’s back on the market, baby! He can get back to cruising for fit GIRLS. He doesn’t have much luck. Partly because most Pop trolls still hate him (even if at this point it has dialled back to levels of the Azealia Banks Chicken Fiasco), partly because, at this point? He has no idea how to form genuine romantic relationships with other trolls that aren’t built on psychological warfare. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it! Several relationships end in him getting dumped, with her friends and family encouraging her to leave him for “emotional abuse”, or whatever. He didn’t even mean it this time, honest! He just wanted to win, you know? He forgot the point of a romantic relationship is not actually to seek victory. But it’s so hard not to! He spent 18 months doing exactly that! Even when he “lost”, which was most of the time, he still got a sick thrill out of the hunt. A sick thrill he is now missing. He understands why Floyd couldn’t quit the coke, now. He tries not to think about Floyd any more.
Meanwhile, their fraternal twins, Brad and Angelina, wait patiently for their parents to get back together. Even though Brad was only 8 months old at the time of divorce, that’s like, 6 years for a troll, and he knew there’s no way in Hell they could stay apart. He just has to wait a bit for his Pops to come back home. Angelina, while having no opinions on whether they will or even should get back together, has already started reaping the benefits of having recently divorced parents at school. She’d be looking forward to having two Giftmases and two birthdays, if she knew what either of those were yet.
Then comes the reunion. We know what happens. They run into each other at a charity event for orphans, not that Floyd remembers what it’s for, since he’s been violently depressed for several months and is only there because Brozone (not specifically Floyd) were asked to make an appearance. They reminisce on their whirlwind romance, they get drunk, Floyd forces JD to remarry them. Creek wakes up the next morning with a brand new ring on his finger.
Creek’s first thought is that the rings look cheap, like they were the only ones they could get on such short notice, and he’s glad he never sold their original rings that he still has back in the mansion. Then, it sinks in that he has Floyd back. He means, that he’s back with Floyd. Which he feels totally neutral on. Negative, even. He’s definitely NOT thrilled that he’s got his perfect match back, and can stop trying to pretend to be someone he’s not. He hates Floyd. Grr! He gives up the act the second Floyd wakes up, and he sees Creek, and starts crying.
At first Creek thinks, aw shit, this was a mistake, we’re getting divorced again. He’s gonna be twice divorced before he’s 30, which is NOT a good look for him. Then they talk, for a while, until they’re on the same page. This IS what they both want. They want to be together. They want to constantly be at each others’ throats, sometimes literally. They want to always have to think, and plan, and make sure the other won’t come out on top. It’s more enriching for them than any other relationship could ever be. This is the first and probably only time they have ever been fully 100% honest with each other.
Except for the sex tape thing, obviously. Creek’s taking that to the grave.
They return to the mansion and Brad greets Floyd casually, as if it hadn’t been 3 1/2 months since they’ve seen each other. Angelina asks if this means they get to eat junk food again. Floyd arranges for a moving van to bring all his stuff back to the mansion that week, and Creek arranges for Brangelina to visit friends for the day.
Things settle down and after a week or two and you’d never even guess they divorced, if not for how they’re back in their honeymoon phase, and Creek has gone from insisting he feels nothing for Floyd to admitting he is psychosexually obsessed with him. He still says he’s straight, though. And Floyd is more than happy to live with that.
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adamsandlermealplan · 10 months
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Every Meal is Shared With You Now and Forever
Bún Bò Huế at Tương Lai (Cabramatta) | 1 August
It's nothing new under the sun to write about how love and food are entwined. How preparing a meal, the deliberate act of taking someone to a restaurant that you enjoy, the times when the scent of a familiar flavour sends you into a wave of emotions... A humanity that has been forever. It's what really made me want to start writing more, although I fear reproducing half-baked diaspora musings. But maybe that's why I do want to record it, precisely because of its eternal and intrinsic nature that transcends time and fuses communities together.
My grandma passed away on Sunday, and food has not tasted the same since. She was my third parent, and my constant. Until the last day that she could stand she would cook lunch and dinner for everyone. After school and work, the first thing that she would ask is whether I was having dinner. Almost without missing a day, she would cook for us. My gut wrenches from remembering the times when I declined and said I would eat later. The times that I've told her I was going out for dinner and her subsequent dejected mood. More than anything, I had declined her act of love. I deserve to feel this terrible, brokenhearted remorse.
She grew up learning to cook with her eyes and her nose. Being the fourth daughter of a Chinese immigrant in British occupied Malaysia, she was prohibited from getting an education by her father. She was basically illiterate, bar the few Chinese characters and basic English words she had to teach herself. I had always considered myself fortunate to be able to indulge in a cuisine many had only later been introduced to. A cuisine that was an almagation of Indian immigrants, Malay locals, many generations of Chinese-Malays and even the influence of British and Portuguese colonisers. She would pound her own spices for curries, cook herbal soups when we came into flu season. So much knowledge through simply absorbing the world around her. Learning the only way she really knew how. I loved her sambal which she would use on a variety of dishes. Nasi lemak. Fried okra. Fried fish. She really loved golden, deep fried delicacies. She introduced me to what Westerners would consider more "challenging" foods. Liver, blood jelly, tripe. I feel so lucky to be able to appreciate these foods. When I had a 2 year vegetarian stint, she would take the effort to cook me a separate dish with no meat. I'm honestly glad I started to eat meat again so I could taste her original cooking before it was too late. I should have known that through her cooking and her hours of preparation, her commitment to make sure we were fed were all intrinsic acts of love. I will never be able to taste it again. I will never be able to repay it.
I ate this bún bò huế after visiting the temple where my family and I have now decided to place her ashes. I had been crying until my eyes had become swollen, and looked bee-stung. I was weepy, still, when they brought this soup noodle out. While it was delicious with its spicy tang and careful notes of fermented seafood, like most of the meals I've had since, it was dampened by the flavour of grief. The thought of being unable to share this with her dulled the usual melody of aromas I would get from that first taste of the soup. If she were with me, I would have asked for a separate little bowl for her to try the silky noodles and bits of Vietnamese ham. Now and until forever, I thought, I could not ever return those acts of care to her. So from that day I promised that every meal is shared with her. I will think of her in every bowl of noodle soup, every bite of curry, even whatever bland work lunch I may have. Tonight is the 7th day since her death, so I poured us a glass of her favourite beer (Guiness) and we served her a little plate of our dinner on the makeshift altar in her room and I feel a little better about it all.
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