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dystopian-penguin · 4 years

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Is this a real life story? Is this a fic concept? Who knows 🤷

But here’s a very long account of... something.

This isn't a gay disaster story. It's a gay sad ending story. It's a gay "self-homophobia is very real and realistic” story, and not in the "gay panic is kinda cute" way.

It all started 14 years ago (yes that long), when I was still deeply in the HP fandom and even more deep into reading James/Lilly fics in ff.net all day long. For the first time in my entire life I decided to sort by “all works” and not just “completed”. I know it might sound super silly, and even a bit cliche considering this is tumblr and we live and breath fics, but that single decision literally changed the course of my life. And unlike what I usually do, I am not exaggerating. I found this one fic that must have had, like, 20 chapters and almost 100k words and dived into it without looking for rocks in the bottom. Long story short: the last posted chapter ended on a huuuuuge cliffhanger, like the very next moment after the kiss, and it left me completely destroyed.

So I did what I always do, what I am known on tumblr and my small social circle in here to do: I went to scream at the author.

But I wasn’t content to just scream in the comment section, oh no. For all I knew the bitch wouldn’t even see it, the last update had been from like 8 months previously. So I stalked her ff.net profile and found her MSN email. Yes, the story is THAT old.

My literal first words to her must have been something akin to “OH MY GOD I HATE YOU SO MUCH”, which yay for the beautiful poetic irony that the universe crafts at times. She took it in stride because, let’s face it, a shitton of people had already greeted her like that by then. And we started talking, and it was easy and fun. We had a lot in common, more or less the same type of interests, the usual you’d expect if I had met her on tumblr even. We must have talked like 3 hours straight on that first day, and I left feeling pretty good cause I had made a new friend. Not only that, but right off the bat I admired her so much. Not only because she was talented as fuck (imagine writing a 100k unfinished fic at only 15 y/o), but also because the more I talked to her the more I could see just how fucking cultured she was and how intelligent and ect. She came from a wealthy family and such a different reality from me. She had been abroad, in fact she usually travelled abroad with her family like twice a year, she was fluent in english even then (at that point I was I intermediate at best), not to mention german because her family was german. She was 15 (a year older than me back then) and trilingual and could write wonderfully and I was fascinated by her instantly.

Something else worth of note was that her profile pic on the day we met had been set to a close-up of a blue eye. I must have asked on that very same day whose eye was that because damn if it hasn’t been the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen. I mean, I hadn’t told her that, but I was curious enough to ask. And as everyone and their grandmother might have guessed by now, it was hers.

Somehow (and I truly don’t know HOW), we got into the habit of talking every day, or at least very close to it. I got to know about her daily life, just one state south from where I live and sooooo much colder than what I had ever experienced. She went to a swiss school, fully bilingual, was the first in her year in the IB program which for the love of crap I didn’t even know it existed back then. Might not ever have known if I never met her. Eventually we exchanged phone numbers, and back then SMS messages were like 1,50 bucks for inter-state ones. Our mothers were not happy.

Around a year and a half went by this way. She became my best friend, my rock. We both had a shitton of problems in your high school lives and in our family lives, and we were so relieved to know there was someone out there we could share those with. In the meantime she ended up breaking up with her boyfriend, ironically just a few months before I had my very first kiss. When she broke up with her boyfriend she was absolutely devastated (they had been together almost a year or so), and relied on me a lot back then. Which I was more than happy to support because for the first time in my life I felt like I belonged somewhere. I felt like I was actually part of someone’s life. I didn’t feel like I ever bothered her, like I was ever intruding in her life. I felt like I was truly part of her world, like she actually remembered my existence when I was not around, and at now-16 years of age that had literally been the first time I had felt that. I never had a true friend before her. Not sure I ever did after her either.

On easter 2008 we finally convinced our moms to let us meet. Her family had a whole goddamn country house with a huge plot of land, so it was decided I was gonna visit her first. So I got semi-sedated and got into my first plane ride EVER, and for those of you that are reading this and know me (although I doubt anyone is reading at all), you know how terrified of planes I am. You know how BIG of a gesture it is for me to get into a fucking plane for the first time in my life for a person.

I already knew she was pretty. I mean, we had talked on the webcam a couple of times before (just a few times because the internet back then was really terrible). The blue eyes I mentioned, and the most fucking beautiful silky blonde hair you’ve ever seen. But when I saw her the first time on that airport it still took my breath away. Even more, what truly surprised me, was the huge smile she gave as soon as she saw me out of the gate and she rushed to hug me. I was paralyzed. I mean yes I was happy and hugged her back, which was a huge deal because back then I was not touchy feely at all (and she was VERY). But I was paralyzed. Because I had never in my entire 16 years of age seen anyone smile that big or that brightly at seeing me. Hell, I suppose I had never seen anyone smile that brightly at all. As the day progressed she was so legit happy that I was there, and I could never fully wrap my head around it. We drove to her house and her mom took the long way just so they could show me all the interesting spots in her city, and she shared tidbits of her daily life that I still didn’t know, despite us being so close, because those are the things you only learn by actually being next to the person irl. Later on she introduced me to her two best friends in school, and we all decided to watch a horror movie.

Yes, it’s THAT cliche.

Now, you see, I’m absolutely fucking impervious to horror movies. Yes I get jumpscared just as much as anyone else, but I don’t get scared. So I was sitting there a bit lowkey bored, narrating the entire plot of the movie and what would happen a few scenes before it did because the movie was just that easy to guess. And she had taken complete ownership of my left arm the entire time, being half super scared and half impressed I could guess every single thing on the plot. Later on she apologized for not letting go of my arm because she knew I wasn’t as touchy feely as she was, and I was once again taken aback because I come from a ridiculously touchy-feely country and NO ONE ever apologizes for it or respects my boundaries on it.

The next day we wake up bright and early to go to her ranch-thingy. She slept on top of me on the car almost all the way there. I must have woken up like a whole hour before her but didn’t move at all.

I’m a city slick. I’m a huge city slick, through and through. Which means I am both fascinated and absolutely terrified on any plot of grass bigger than a garden. And her country house was fucking amazing. I had only experienced the true freedom of being in nature a few times in my life, and she made sure to show me every nook and crane of the forest surrounding it. Because yes it was a forest and not a jungle like where I lived, and that made it all the more magical.

But the truly one magical thing in the entire 4-days weekend was the stars. You see, I am absolutely in love with the stars. It’s stupid to say something like this when I was retelling the greatest love story of my life, but the stars are my one true love. I got my first telescope when I was five years old. My mother cannot for the life of her explain where I got this obsession from. She always said I was already born that way. So I find myself for the first time in my life with the least amount of light pollution I’ve ever been subject to in my entire life (even nowadays). For the first time in my life I has actually been able to see the Milky Way with my own two eyes. And what made everything even more impressive was that it was a full moon, and the night sky still looked as incredible as it’s supposed to look. Honestly it might have been a great contender to the beauty of her blue eyes.

The moment I remember the most is us laying down on some beach towels (no idea why they had those in the countryside), stargazing for hours at end. By then we were two full states to the south of mine, so I believe the technical definition of what I was feeling is fucking freezing my inexistent balls off. I had gotten dressed in just some jeans and a tshirt way before the sun set, and I was dammed if I was gonna interrupt our stargazing to go put on some decent clothes. I remember her asking a few times if I was cold, and I also remember myself lying through my teeth saying I had gotten used to it by then. Blatant lies, my nipples could cut through fucking glass at the moment. But I wasn’t gonna interrupt it because it was just the two of us on a grassy clearing, her family was at least 200m away and we couldn't even hear them anymore and it was just us and the stars and her hands were so close to mine that I could feel the heat (the only source of it for my beach-town ass I suppose). It was the perfect fucking moment. The moment most people dream of having their entire lives. I have no idea how long we stayed there, but it was a few hours for sure. Her mom had to call us back inside, and nothing broke my heart more. We talked about anything and everything. I told her what I knew of astronomy and I could see for the first time I was fascinating her with knowledge. Because I had always felt and will always feel like a peasant in the presence of a princess when it comes to her. With how cultured and educated and just fucking smart she always had been. But as I told her of the constellations (sometimes grabbing her hand to point to the stars and make her spot them better), and proclaimed my love for the night sky, she listened. She listened and I had never felt heard before in my life. She listened and I felt I had managed to make her fall in love with the stars a little bit by just talking about them.

She listened and I felt I had managed to make myself fall in love in her a little bit by just seeing the way she looked at me as I talked.

All good things come to an end and time had come for me to go back home. I will never forget how she hugged me goodbye on that same airport. Where I had seen the brightest smile on my life and now I could see she was holding back tears for me. Because I was leaving. I was important enough in someone’s life that they were about to cry because I wasn’t going to be around anymore. She way she whispered “I’m gonna miss you so much” on my ear, on such a low note I am sure it was just so her mother wouldn’t hear her, and her voice will haunt me for the rest of my life. She told me a few days later that she did cry on her way to school that morning.

After this it was near impossible to not be with her at all times. We texted constantly, and used to talk like 2 whole hours on the phone before bed. Once again I must remind you this was 2008 so it was no cheap business. Her mother started to try to separate us a bit, insisting she didn’t contact me as much, even tho I was sure the one who could not afford those phone bills, not her. It all culminated on what was ironically (or perhaps planned by her mother?) brazilian Valentine’s day (we are the only country in the world that celebrates in on St. Anthony’s day, which is June 12th). It was the first day in almost two years we didn’t talk at all, because of how much her mother had nagged her about it. The next day we talked as if we had been separated by a war for a decade.

I’m gonna take a break here to let everyone know that no, I did not think I was in love with her back then. I don’t think she knew either, but it’s hard to tell.

Her mother planned her entire july winter break to the minute just so she could spend the least amount of time in my house as possible. We got 5 days instead of the previous 4. But her mother came up with a ridiculous amount of trips for the family. She visit 3 different countries (and a whole different state inside her own country) within 30 fucking days. That’s how bad it had gotten then. Our SMSs had to be cut down to just two or three a day because of it.

But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because when she arrived at my house (her family had insisted in meeting mine before letting her stay) I was able to see from three floors up how brightly she had smiled at seeing me again.

I’ll make this part short: we stayed cooped inside blankets the entire time, playing on my PS2. It was so ridiculous that my mom, maaaany years later, told me she usually left the house for hours at time just to give us an opportunity of finally doing something about our very obvious feelings. Unlike the trip we took to her ranch, this one was filled with 3am deep existencial talks. And unlike the other trip, we spent the whole time sleeping on the same bed. Not a whole lot happened other than us dancing around the obvious feelings and how to deal with being so close to each other.

Nothing beside the very last morning together. I remember always waking up after her, because that’s just how we were. I remember she was already up, reading this book in fucking german of all things. It had been the first day of the entire week we had a meager ray of sunshine. And the way my window and ourselves were positioned, the sun was shinning directly on her. I woke up to the vision of an angel. I had never seen hair in such a warm bright color. I had never seen eyes that were the living embodiment of a spring afternoon sky. I woke up and her propped up on a couple of pillows, reading under the weak morning sun was the first thing I saw. It was the first thing I saw and I could swear I was still dreaming.

Because for the first time in all this, I could not contain and muffle the voice inside my head that was screaming: I want to wake up next to this every single day for the rest of my life.

It was the last time I woke up next to her for the rest of my life.

To my credit I did shake off my daze from the sight quite fast. I had gotten so good to drowning out these feelings that I was great at putting my poker face back up. We talked, we had breakfast, we let ourselves feel a bit sad about her leaving.

Then, just about half an hour before we actually had to go shower to take her to the station, it happened. The one moment that made me feel confident this all wasn’t just in my head. It all wasn’t just wishful thinking of a lonely pathetic girl who got way too bullied in high school.

We were having an impromptu pillow fight cause why not. That’s how girls who are secretly in love handle their feelings after all. It’s universal I think. And, well, on the overall 9 days we spent together irl I never actually beat her once because I’m just that much of a noddle. But this one fight we were both in bed, with weak footing and etc. You can see where this is going.

So on a scene to rival any anime, or that one gif of girls playing handball that fall on top of each other, she fell on top of me. Well, did she fall? I don’t know. For all I know, she planned.

And we had the moment. The gaze. Those few indescribable seconds of your life that you’re always gonna remember like yesterday, no matter how old you get. She had each of my hands pinned to the side of my head, and at first I thought we were still fighting so I just struggled and laughed and was saying stuff like “get off me ya psycho!”. But then I looked up. I looked up and.

And then I felt it. I felt everything her eyes were telling me. She wasn’t playing with me anymore. She was staring at me as if she already knew it was going to be the last time. She was staring at me as if it was a love story because it was. She was staring at me as if her entire existence, as if the whole oxygen on the earth itself depending on my presence.

She was staring at me like I has never been looked at before, or since. Even with a 3-years long relationship I had muuuch later on. No one had never, or will ever, look at me the way she looked at me.

And I froze. I froze because I had no idea what else to do. I froze because inside my head back then this was still wrong. Girls should not kiss. Girls should never kiss.

It was wrong.

It was so wrong, but nothing, not a single piece of bigot ramble ever uttered in history would make me feel more scared than losing my best friend. Nothing in the world scared me more than losing her.

Could I cross this boundary? Did she want to? Or was it just a spur on the moment thing?

But then she stared at my lips and I could not help but lick my own. Out of instinct, out of craving, out of love.

To the risk of getting an angry mob to my house right now, no, we did not kiss.

In fact, I dont quite remember the next few seconds at all. It had been single the most intense moment in my life at this point. It is still one of the most intense moments I’ve ever experienced. I completely blanked out of how I actually got pulled out of it and back into the land of living. Next thing I know we are sitting on opposite sides of the bed, trying to move away from the awkwardness. We did manage, in a couple of minutes. and things went back to normal between us.

But things would never be back to normal within me.

I’m gonna take a pause here to point out I’m bisexual. So like every bisexual, I am a very confused person. Cause you see, the moment you figure out you're bisexual it’s so much more confusing than figuring out you're fully homosexual. Because in the moment, things don’t just click. Things dont just start to magically make sense. I was 16 and I had absolutely liked guys before. Was it with this intensity? No because I was fucking 16. She was the first person I was been truly in love with. But I know it in my soul that if she was a dude I would love her with the exact same intensity. This particular discourse took me another three years to solve, but I digress.

And then she left.

She left and, like I said, her mother had programed her entire july milimetrically so we could be as far apart as possible. She left my house straight back to her ranch, not even her own house, And they have no internet there, so no MSN. Just a single 30-minutes phone call a day, for the 4 days after we had spent the entire week cooped up in bed inside blankets and playing lame-ass RPGs. And then right after that she left for germany for two full weeks. But before that particular trip, she did manage to get home. She got home to a letter of her grandma that read...

Well to be honest I cannot tell you what it read exactly. Because she was extremely vague about it when telling me. But it was enough to destroy her. It was enough to make her think that her grandma would not want anything to do with her anymore and it was based off somewhat new events. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out the full contents of the letter. Her family is from the brazilian Bible Belt. But back then, at 16, confused as fuck, and already preemptively heartbroken, I legit had no idea what it said. She was vague and I didn’t want to pry. I just wanted to make her stop crying. I just wanted to put that beautiful smile back in her face but on that day I could feel her slipping away for the first time.

The rest of the story takes place in just a bit under two months. Maybe 6 weeks at most.

She goes to germany and finds a boyfriend, as one does. She leeches on this boy like a lifeline, but never stops texting me our 3 international texts we were allowed daily. In fact, the first thing she did after kissing him was pulling off her phone as texting me.

You can imagine how well this guy takes it.

Now, she goes back to brasil and this guy actually lives somewhat close to her. It’s a doable relationship. Once they both have access to internet and MSN again, and she is fast to introduce us, so happy that both of the most important people in her life are meeting. Even tho they had been together for like 3 weeks at this point.

I’m ok with it because, well, I still hadn’t figured myself out. I know no one will believe this, but I honestly did not feel jealousy. In fact, it was almost relief. Relief that I would not need to look into my feelings any further than I had back in july. I was happy for her. She seemed genuinely happy with this guy, and so was I.

And then Independence Day weekend comes and hell starts to... well, not break loose, but certainly get weaker on the seams. In here Independence Day is on September 7th, but both on my city and hers there's a city holiday on the 8th. On that year it ended up getting us a 4-day weekend again, and obviously I thought I was the one who was gonna be invited to visit her. I has been counting on it, planning for it.

Two weeks or so before that she informs me that she wants to invite her boyfriend over instead of it, which is like. Ok. Fair. But for the first time in this entire story I felt jealousy. Because that ranch, those stars, that sky... it was our place. I did not wanna share those experiences I had with her with anyone else. But I kept quiet of course, because how could I not? I tell her “yeah it’s a bit upsetting because I was hopping we could see each other, but I am genuinely happy you get to spend time with him!”

She ghosts me in that week.

To this day, 12 years and 2 months later, I do not know why. I do not know how. I know her grandma called again when she learned the boyfriend was gonna come over and not me, but that’s all.

She ghosted me before ghosting was even a thing. So I had no other social parameter to deal with the situation. I will never forget the absolutely heart wrenching pain I felt when I figured out she had blocked me on MSN. It’s indescribable.

It’s indescribable because she was the first person I felt like actually gave a flying fuck if I lived of died, if I was happy or if I cried. And she had up and decided to fucking cut me out her life without a single fucking word of explanation. One night everything was fine, we even had a group chat with her boyfriend. The next day she is gone forever. I don’t know, nor I think I will ever learn what triggered it. What was the last fucking draw, the last fucking prejudiced word directed at her that made her do it.

My world had been full of color, full of life, and even if literally everyone around me in real life would be so much happier if I didn’t exist (back then I DID NOT get along with my mother), she had seemed this entire time to be so much happier with me around. She was the one person who liked my existence. And literally overnight, I wake up and my world is empty. My world is empty and my air is missing and I don’t fucking know why.

It’s been 12 years and I still don’t know why.

Her boyfriend harassed me a bit back on orkut. Like, I have no idea why. It was unprompted. But it does give you a big fucking clue does it now?

I haven’t gotten a single word from her ever again. I know she’s alive, that’s not the fucking point of the story. I know because I tried to contact her again through every fucking means possible. I even sent her a letter of all things for fuck’s sake. When facebook came along I found her there too and sent her a message. Once 3 years after the fact, and then again 6 years after the fact. That was the last time I tried contacting her.

I cannot say I was “faithful”, so to speak. I cannot say she has been the only thing in my mind. I cannot say that I have not loved again, because I have. I had a serious 3-year relationship, as I mentioned. I had actual gay disasters stories in between. She has not remained the foremost thing in my mind. She has not remained my one true love. There were times where I spent months without thinking about her. Even silly crushes are enough to stray my thoughts away, to stray my heart away

But what worth are those times if I always go back to thinking of her as soon as I see myself without someone? What worth are those times where she is not in my mind, if she had never left my heart to begin with?

What worth is forgetting about her at times when she is my default setting?

I know what you're thinking. “you’re not in love with her, you’re in love with the idea of what could have been”. And you’re absolutely right. I know you are. I’m fully aware of it, of the implications of it, not only on my love life but my mental health.

But she has been the single most influential person in my life. She was the one that got me to writing. She was the one who made face my mother and have The Talk we needed for fucking 16 years about who my father was. Fuck, she is the sole responsible for setting my life on that path, and all the domino effect of events that happened because of the decision of talking to my mother about it. She was the one that made me figure out I was bisexual. Not a lesbian, definitively not straight, but not gay either. Bisexual, out and proud.

She was my first love.

She was my first love and she is the one that makes me give some credit to the saying “at the end of your life you will see you’ve fallen in love with the same person over and over again”.

She was my first love and she makes me go fucking crazy enough to give the whole “soulmates” concept a decent thought, because this cannot have been natural. Loneliness cannot explain the entire thing. It cannot explain how ridiculously drawn I was to her right away. Attraction doesn’t explain it either. It cannot explain how insanely synced up I’ve always felt to her. How insanely connected.

I’m not gonna lie, I loved my ex. Truly and deeply. They were the only person to ever treat me respect, and I felt almost as connected to them as I did to her. Almost.

If we are getting technical, I felt, like, 95% synced up with them. Which is more than the vast majority of humankind can only dream of feeling.

But it was not 100%.

There has only been one person in my life that I have felt 100% connected with. One person in my life I have not been able to shake away, have not been able to get over. Oh I have moved on. I have moved on and moved back in and then moved on again. Many times, over and over.

But I have not gotten over you. I will never get over you. What happened. How it ended. You were my biggest heartbreak. You were my biggest love story, and I didn’t even get to live it.

You make me so illogical that I sincerely hope there is a next life out there. One we can meet, sit down, and talk.

I’m sure you are a completely different person right now. I am a completely different person too. And it is insane, it is illogical, and it is immature to think that these two completely different people would still have any vestige of a thing in common like we did as kids. Because we were kids. We were kids and now we are both adults, and have a single damn thing changed?

A whole fuckton of them changed. Seasons changed. Years changed. The entire fucking world changed. I have changed more than you can possible imagine a person would in 12 years.

But you being the default setting of my heart has not changed. No matter how “unfaithful” I’ve been to you. No matter how much I will keep on living not being attached to you. No matter how much I know at some point I will forget you, forget this feeling, and bask into the pleasure of a new love. No matter how much at some point I will surely think “wow, what a crazy bitch I was back then, with all these feelings for a random girl who certainly doesn’t even remember I exist”.

And that’s one of my biggest fears you see. Cause for me you are half the fucking book. For me you’re the constant element that comes back when sea is calm and things are ok.

And I fear that to you I was nothing more than a line, maybe a throwaway paragraph in your life.

#my stuff #my writting #gay disaster

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hitachiinmisadventures · 4 years

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i think i speak on behalf of ur entire following when i say we need ur headcanons on how the hosts would raise awareness to global warming 😤

So this took a lot of thought (and the help from one of my ohshcsociety friends) and it’s been sitting in my inbox for a few days now but here’s the best I could come up with

To start things off, none of them actually cared about it until they “accidentally” ran into Haruhi volunteering—and boy did she look so cute with here bangs pinned out of her face and her sleeves rolled up

Tamaki began researching that evening and he was a little traumatized with what he found. The greenhouse gas effect? Pollution? Deforestation? All of this was tied together? anD HE WAS CONTRIBUTING TO THAT?!

He had to do something about it

He unlisted the help of Hikaru and Kaoru and they got right to working on a shitton of fundraisers for the elites. The hosted parties to raise awareness and made sure all their clients and client’s families were invited (and everyone in the school actually)

Tamaki decided to walk to school, but that only lasted two days

(Baby steps guys, he’s trying)

Mori and Honey didn’t know how to help much at first so they joined Haruhi with her volunteer work

They later branches off to start their own rescue center to help raise awareness

Kyouya would probably in all honesty be the one to think about his power and influence in their rich kid world to make a difference

He channeled his “early morning demon” when he goes into The Great Debate™ with his father

He won. The Ootori’s have a new branch of energy-efficient hospitals in the planning stage

Kyouya May have threatens several people to get that

All of them have made very generous donations for various organizations around Japan

Haruhi has never been more proud of her idiots using their powers for the greater good

#sorry this took so long!#kaorukin #ohshc headcanons #ohshc #asks #admin answers #i enjoyed making this one

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dasha-aibo · 4 years

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"Not to mention the goddamn giant batteries that need to supplant the renewable energy infrastructure that create even MORE pollution that’s hard to get rid of." ...you know they use dams for that for the grid, don't you? they pump water back up using excess power generated by solar panels/wind turbines, which can generate most of that power back whenever they let the water back down from the dam. also, lithium is far better for the environment than fucking CO2. nuclear is even better, but still

Oh yeah, these things that take up a huge chunk of land (added to a gigantic chunks of land wind and solar farms already take up) in an era of insane land prices and looming overpopulation crisis that also do a shitton of harm to the environment. So much better.

How many times do I have to tell you that while CO2 is bad, it's harm is greatly exaggerated by journos and pop scientists whose careers depend on green energy grants?

You admit yourself nuclear is far superior, why is that even an argument?

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becauseyouremybigbrother · 4 years

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@beautiifulghostts || Semi-plotted starter

AT LEAST IT’S NOT THE BAD PLACE.

It’s maybe the hundredth time Sam’s told herself this over the last few days, and honestly, the fact that wherever the Rift had taken her not being the Bad Place DOESN’T make it any better.

At first, she’d thought maybe the portal Jack created had accidentally taken her back in time. There were carts and horses and dirt roads, a severe LACK of cell signal, people were either wearing armor or rags, no one smelled particularly pleasant (one doesn’t realize how important deodorant is until it no longer exists—or one is at a science fiction convention), and there was a noticeable lack of pollution in the air. That was the only GOOD thing she could currently say.

Yes, at first she’d definitely thought Jack had somehow sent her back into medieval times, and having attended several Renaissance Festivals in her life, she wasn’t all THAT upset about it.

At least, until she discovered wherever she was apparently also included Elves. A whole shitton of magic users. And oh yeah, MONSTERS. And not like, Orcs from Lord of the Rings, which Sam had always thought she could handle fairly well, but actual monsters like she and Dean are accustomed to fighting... only, like, bigger and scarier, and more like the MYTHS in the old texts she’d spent so many years scouring.

Sam only knows the monsters here are worse because she ended up encountering a werewolf the night before that was entirely unlike any werewolf she and her brother had ever killed. Or befriended. Or slept with. She definitely would’ve NEVER been caught sleeping with this thing, and thank Chuck silver apparently was still a thing here in this place that WASN’T medieval times Earth, though she’s pretty certain she only won that fight out of sheer luck. (The battery on her cell had just enough charge she was able to blast a song from one of her playlists, distracting the creature long enough to kill it. Unfortunately, that little trick was one and DONE because Sam seriously doubted she was going to come across an electrical outlet anywhere.)

She was tired, hungry, and unfortunately SMELLED like everyone else around her. Suddenly, sleeping in the cramped backseat of the Impala sounded like the most luxurious bed ever.

It’s only a momentary relief that Sam eventually comes across something RESEMBLING civilization, a town of sorts that some old lady tells her was called Maribor. There were far more people than the few she encountered along the road, all of whom eye her denim and flannel with the same CURIOUS looks Dean had received that time they traveled back to the Old West. She ignored it, focusing instead on finding some place where she might be able to find food, and maybe a bath, though she’s read enough about bathing in medieval times to consider that prospect DUBIOUS at best.

The tavern Sam finally entered was exactly as she IMAGINED a tavern in this medieval fairy tale/horror story might be. Dark, dirty, definitely not capable of passing any inspection codes, and severely lacking a pool table where she might be able to HUSTLE a few unfortunate souls out of their money. Drawing in a breath of courage, she made her way over to the bar, flashed the seedy-looking man on the other side a bright smile, and said in the most awkward way imaginable:

“Could I get an ale, please?” That’s what people ordered in places like this, right? Ale? “And, umm, whatever you have to eat.”

The man, who appeared to be missing a few teeth, set a tankard in front of her, liquid sloshing over the sides, and a wooden plate with some CRUSTY bread and some kind of meat Sam couldn’t quite identify. Oh well, BEGGARS can’t be choosers!

“That’ll be FIVE coppers.”

Blinking for a moment, Sam slipped her hand into her front pocket, pulling out a twenty dollar bill. “You, uh, wouldn’t have CHANGE for a twenty would you?”

The tankard and plate quickly disappeared as the man glowered at her. “No COIN, no food.”

“I mean, I realize it looks like just PAPER to you,” Sam attempted to argue, “but it’s worth far more than you can imagine. Where I come from? There’s gold backing this up! Or well, there used to be... China probably owns most of it’s worth now. But trust me, I’m good for it! I could—BUS some tables for you? Wash some dishes? I mean, assuming you wash your dishes...”

“Take yer beggin’ elsewhere before I have ye THROWN out!”

Sam slumped against the bar with a muttered, “Shit,” as the man walked away.

Turns out playing RPG’s does NOT, in fact, prepare one for the real fantasy world. At least video games give you the occasional quests to make money or find food or whatever. And here Sam always thought she’d do fairly well in Game of Thrones.

Apparently NOT.

#beautiifulghostts #⛧ || 𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢: 𝔄𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔘𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢 (The Witcher Verse)#PLEASE IGNORE THE LENGTH OF THIS #Sam just wouldn't shut up #It's all exposition and set up anyway :P

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transrightsjimin · 4 years

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luckily some family members today agree w me on wanting less fireworks / more structured fireworks bc i rly was the only one last night at my brothers place who thought so. my cousins bf said that on new years, the amount of pollution in the netherlands is 25 times as much as in the country over an entire year. this is so fucking bad man but idk if itll change soon bc the govt and economy does earn a shitton of money on all the firework sales.

that aside, playing board games w my niece yesterday was rly fun and ive eaten 3 oliebollen and 1 appelflap now within two days so im happy about that. i also got rly neat art supplies from my aunt, like two art dummies (with black pages which she didnt realize but its really cool), watercolour brushes and a sketchbook, nd money from my grandma, and also money from my grandma whos demented and has too much on her account and wont use it anyway so family divided it over each of us. so yay i have some more money to save up for bts!!

#rambles #family stuff

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captainsparklefingers · 6 years

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I think about Namor and Atlantis a lot

And I think it’s criminal that, despite the fact Namor has been around for NEARLY EIGHTY YEARS, there isn’t a really a lot of definitive lore about Atlantis proper.

I mean...we know a lot about Asgard. We know a lot about Wakanda. We know their histories and their culture, and how they shape the heroes and villains who come from them. Where somebody is from can inform a lot about who they are as a person...so why don’t we know a lot more about Atlantis?

I mean...fuck, we don’t even really know where Homo mermanus actually came from! The fuck, Marvel?

So this is what we know:

-Atlantis is the name of both the ancient continent, the city, and the nation. Its people are known as Atlanteans. -Atlantis has moved, been destroyed, and been rebuilt a shitton of times, to the point where they’ve gotten super good at rapid construction. -Relations with the surface world are complicated and tense at best, and really have been going on since the 20th century, so they’re also fairly recent. -Arguably, all of the ocean falls under the dominion of Atlantis, so...they also technically control about 70% of the planet.

Aaaand...there’s probably a little more, but those are the big facts. And that’s all well and good! That is enough to get started with, that’s for sure, but that does not a civilization make! What’s their culture? What are their myths, their legends, their popular stories! What sort of things do Atlanteans do for fun? Do they have art? Apart from declaring war on the surface and trying to keep their people safe, what else does the government do?

They’ve got tons of reasons for hating the surface world, and a lot of them are justified...I know in the past Marvel has touched on things like pollution and oil spills and how it affects Namor and his people, but those are things that should really be explored more in depth! Not to mention the numerous wrecks of assorted surface dweller boats and planes and so on that are in the ocean! What do Atlanteans think about all of that?

Jeez...you create a country that arguably controls the majority of the planet, a country that is both nomadic and has beautiful cities, is spread out and yet is united by a single monarch, a people that can explore the parts of the sea we’ve never even gotten close to...and you do NOTHING with that?

Ugh. I have a lot of thoughts about Atlantis, and Atlanteans, and Namor.

#namor mckenzie #namor #the submariner #namor the sub mariner #atlantis #marvel #marvel atlantis #don't mind my blabbing #I'm just thinking about how there's so much POTENTIAL here #and how it's being squandered and wasted #I mean in X-Men Red they JUST touched on how Namor could fuck up trade if the surface world doesn't play nice #WHY DON'T WE TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS?#NAMOR IS AN ASSHOLE FOR A REASON PEOPLE #SHOW US HOW AND WHY #I swear to god I'll learn to write comics just to fill this gap myself if i have to...

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theroadfromustome · 5 years

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Mile 78

Yikes it has been over a month since I have updated here. In fact, a month and a half. Gotta get on that--esp. as reflection and processing would very likely benefit me on a regular basis. Stopping (at work again) to document the disquiet I currently feel bc I want to capture it in the moment.

Lots of things have happened; P has happened. He has been a focus of my waking hours; I have been the inhabitant of his embrace and the recipient of his letters when he has been overseas. He has met my son, and is completely charming him. He is beginning the process of sincere, long-term investment in the both of us. This of course stirs my heart in the best of ways, but also I think frightens me on some level. Things have shifted into high gear, and with that my attitude and anxiety have shifted as well.

In the space of time since last I wrote, P and I went on our first excursion together; to D.C. overnight to determine if we could travel together. I experienced the first of his migraines; and had one of my earliest attacks of the inadequacy cycle. I cried in his arms and explained all my fears and he held me and combated them as best he knew how. That time it was: This is a swanky hotel and this is the way he lives all the time. I have never stayed in hotel this nice and this is normal to him. He lives such a sophisticated life; he is a wealthy worldly genius. What does he want with me?

Then, he went to Turkey for a week for work, and wrote while he was gone of course. When he came back I met his parents for the first time; and the second attack of inadequacy hit. My mother was also present; in all of her family drama glory (I said recently that I felt my family was rather like the Bennetts, to which he chuckled and said that was not entirely inaccurate). After this encounter, which admittedly was not exactly a cozy one-on-one chat, his mother was noncommittal when asked about me. This time it was: His mother doesn’t like me. Maybe it’s because I come with so much bloody baggage. Like the fact that I’m still legally married or the fact that I’m going to be a divorcee or my mother’s drama which makes us a family of kooks (are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?!). Again, dear P rallied, dried my tears, and told me that he would choose me over his family if it came to it. And that his mom might just be nervous.

September rolled in and he asked to meet my son. We had the most charming afternoon/evening in which he was everything a woman hopes a man will be to her son and more. He devoted himself to son’s amusement, backed up my disciplinary judgements, and I got to experience the sublime pleasure of having a second adult invested in the care and welfare of my child. There was also the pleasure of being allies in the cause. As I say, son is as besotted as I am. Since, he has made a great many shows of sincere interest and vested concern for son’s well-being. And spoiled him some too, of course.

The next weekend was the sublime weekend when we got to go to NYC. On the train up I got to see him in work mode; which was mildly intimidating, I admit. Not that I didn’t know how brilliant and capable he is. I worked on applications at the same time, and he got to witness that involved process and the level of emotional investment and lack of confidence that entails. To him, surely I make mountains out of molehills; though he never said that, bless him. He was supportive but distracted by work of course. Upon arrival in NYC I felt less of a dolt/child/whathaveyou, and was better accustomed this time to the swankiness of the hotel. We met his cousins, one of whom is one of the few other people who he can be open with and can spend excesses of time with without feeling drained. They are both intelligent and capable and totally kickass; esp cousin A, who is astoundingly intelligent and gives absolutely no fucks. She’s also gorgeous. And P clearly feels a great affinity for her; rather I imagine as I am with certain friends of mine--we just buzz together. And I’m not gonna lie; there were flickers of jealousy--nothing severe, just a smidge of...”wouldn’t he prefer to keep that sort of company.” They can also talk math and computer stuff together, so that... Overall, I am not cosmopolitan and my intelligence is...? Also, I feel like I spend a lot of time talking about James Madison and slavery; gotta get some new material. Anywho, we also did other museums, saw Hamilton (which was indescribably good, and super romantic to share with him) ate fantastic food, met other friends, and generally just had a wonderful time. I think I made a good impression on all friends and family in question, generally pleasant if somewhat dim next to the cousins. I think it was a turning point in the relationship for him; and he definitely felt what he calls “romantic flutterings,” which are a big deal for him.

He left from NYC to go to Turkey for another week of work, and his first night back was all one could wish in the way of romantic reunion. In this wash of emotion, we crossed the love threshold, I told him I loved him, he said “I think I love you too,” because the way he processes is different. This is a BIG ASS deal of course, and part of me is panicking bc certainly this cannot be true, and if it is, how can I know I won’t screw it up? Etc. etc. And indeed may already be sabotaging things. This I want to explore. Then he came to dinner with the whole family! And was a champ about it, but of course this shook my confidence. So this major declaration has come out, and then three days later he’s off to Texas for a few days of work. While he was gone I felt out of sorts, and professionally had a week...well, that doesn’t exactly make you proud of yourself. While I was idling and not being a full adult (mind you, had a sick day with son), he was at day-long conferences for this job that he does well, which interests and challenges him, and in which he is greatly valued and demanded. I do envy that, but also was suddenly struck with a sick sense of worthlessness (you can hear it in the way I phrased that last even). What am I even doing? And look he is capable and adult and excelling and making shittons of money. He has everything under control, all his shit sorted out, the world at his command. And I...?

So that happened; fortunately he only had to experience this insecure moping through text, but I know it is a super unpleasant thing to behold; and it is that old cycle of wanting him to tell me it’s all going to be ok, that I am worthy. Which is not fair to him, nor healthy for me, and I really need to conquer it. Anywho, flash forward to last night, when I had dinner with his family; parents included, and cousin A. Also a family friend from childhood who is six years younger than I am, studying to be a copyeditor, was def. in with mom, and baked a perfect batch of snickerdoodles. (You see how I am wallowing in this? It really just gets to choking me. And I thought I’d made progress. But it is this familiar sick burning sensation in my chest.) The whole family; they’re so effing brilliant and accomplished--what the hell is he doing messing with me? He and cousin A did their genius banter, and I felt the same as I feel now--lump in the throat, tears in my eyes, sense of utter self-loathing; worthlessness. I see them together and I think, surely that’s what he wants in a partner? Someone who is as genius as he himself. How long until he sees me and sees a burdensome dolt? And the expiration date starts flashing again. And I’m trying to be stoic and tell myself that if this isn’t meant to be, it isn’t meant to be. But it yes, will still hurt. And that sick voice says ‘maybe you should back away now,’ and ‘if you end things how will that affect your son?’ I’m frightened I’ve made the wrong decision. What if I can never cope with the gulf between us in capability, intelligence, etc. Have I swapped one inequality for another? Is this strum und drang God trying to tell me this is unhealthy and I need to get out? But this man is so good, the best man I have ever known, surely I must pursue this. Surely this is worth working at. And God knows I don’t want to hurt him because I’ve made poor decisions; I’ve rushed in before I was healthy enough to cope.

And is this all because I put a name on it? Because I admitted that I love him? I’ve raised the stakes and now I’m terrified on some irrational level? He held me and let me cry, talked through things with me, tried to get me to explain what I was afraid of; told me he didn’t need his partner to be as smart as he was, that that’s not what he wants of me. He says “this wouldn’t work if you were dumb, I admit.” He says “I want to be with you because you are kind and take care of me and help me figure out things and we can have fun together.” He seems to think that the way I treat him, care for him, accept and work with him is singular, but certainly it is not. I don’t understand how there are not dozens of women lining up to love him because he is wonderful. So, so wonderful. And God help me, I do love him. I do want him to be happy. But I begin to worry that I am a burden to him. That I’m becoming someone who does drain him. At lows like this I am nothing but my weaknesses; and I sense how unhealthy this is. I don’t want to be plying these underhand tactics; I want to be strong enough to face this head on myself and end this feeling. But it is undeniably true that I am scared; that a voice in me keeps telling me that any second now my behavior is going to scare him off; that he’s going to get annoyed with me and that will be that. I cannot change who I am; I am working on this, truly. He says “you don’t bother me. You don’t have to change.” But some part of my mania can’t believe him. Some part of my mania thinks “yes, you do need to change. Noone wants someone like this. He loves the best strongest version of you. Not the one who whines and mewls about how much she sucks.”

Philosophically I know I need to be strong and kick this thing myself. And it is very familiar; this other woman who seems infinitely better equipped than I, spends time with a man I adore, I spiral into this self-hate fest and then make myself the kind of gargoyle that of course drives him away; makes him want to spend more time with the other woman. This is not because of any actions on his part. So disheartening to see how little progress I have made. And what is the answer? This is bigger than just this thing, clearly. Also a stumbling block to us, which is something I want to get past because I want this to be the good that it can be. But again; this all came after we crossed that major threshold. WHAT is at the root of this and how can I fix it? Nothing else changed. It’s not like he wasn’t brilliant before, not like our jobs or duties changed in any way--”I’m as fair as a I was erwhile.” Yet I act as though a timer has been started; a fuse that is going to end with him walking away. Not that these flutters of inadequacy have not come up before; see earlier in this post.

I don’t like this Sam I am. And I want to be done with it. I will not ruin this. However, I cannot be blind to warning signs. <--Stated for the record. Going to see DD this week to sort through some of this stuff; hopefully some answers. Hmmm...

Is this just the job search? Will I feel better when I get an “adult” job that is fulfilling/challenging to me? (Note: maybe I ought to teach afterall, if I’m going to be miserable and stressed anyway...) Is this because I’ve pushed too far too fast? Am I being honest with myself/him? Has this become unequal and how can I level the playing field? Questions. Questions. Questions.

Unrelated but notable: Was clumsy and told J about P inadvertently. At least now that’s done with but I do feel like a heel. And I hate what he is going through right now. Hope I’ve made the right decision in the end. But really I don’t think that was fully healthy for me. Of course it appears that I am good at making situations unhealthy... Hm....

#I have two fists #and the love of God #I can beat this thing and love this man as he deserves #and myself a little too

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alethiometry · 7 years

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[fic] Non Serviam

Title: Non Serviam Fandom: Silicon Valley Characters: Jared Dunn, Bertram Gilfoyle, Dinesh Chugtai Rating: PG Warnings: show-level swearing Word Count: 2,021 words Summary: While Richard goes and meets with Gavin, the guys back at the house pour one out for Anton, have a rare sincere conversation, and contemplate next steps. 4x10 coda/addendum.

Notes: A quick self-indulgent thing that I threw together after watching the season finale one too many times. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Enjoy!

Read below, or on AO3.

The server room is cold without Anton—empty, now, and spacious. Far too spacious. And silent, like a tomb. Almost like the offices they’d populated during Barker’s brief tenure as CEO, after the clearance sale. But whatever somber feelings their former office space had stirred in Jared, it’s nothing compared to the cold sterility of an Anton-less garage.

It had taken a couple weeks to get used to falling asleep with all the humming fans and little flickering LEDs, the constant whirrs pulsing through Anton’s circuit boards; the silence now is oppressive by contrast, even with Jian-Yang and Dinesh’s muffled argument coming from the kitchen. Jared wonders how long it’ll take to get used to sleeping in his own bedroom again. Maybe the constant twinge of muscle cramping in his back will go away after a couple nights on a real mattress. That would certainly be a silver lining.

Still, he’ll miss the server room. He supposes he should call it a garage, technically, but a garage is for parking cars, and he doesn’t think anybody’s parked their cars in here since Erlich bought the place.

Speaking of which, Erlich should have checked in with them by now. Jared pulls out his phone to shoot him a quick text (Does he have international texting? Can he even get a signal way up in the Himalayas?) but when he unlocks his phone all he sees is the falsified Hooli-Con app glaring up at him.

Right.

Somehow, even after everything, he can’t bring himself to delete it.

He’s got half a bottle of Martinelli’s in his mini-fridge, leftover from the one night they thought they’d be rich—the one night of unbridled, carefree celebration before Keenan’s betrayal. The cider’s beyond flat by now, almost disgustingly syrupy, but somehow it seems fitting.

Bottoms up,

he thinks glumly, and that’s when the door creaks open.

“Thought you moved back to your place,” Gilfoyle says, as tonelessly as ever. The air mattress bounces a little as he sinks down next to Jared, swigging directly from his bottle of Pappy van Winkle.

“I did,” Jared replies. “I just thought I’d come pay my respects. I can leave, if you’d like.”

Gilfoyle shrugs and clinks his bottle against Jared’s. “To Anton,” he mutters, pouring a bit of his bourbon onto the ground.

“To Anton,” echoes Jared, joining him.

They sit there in silent contemplation, each with his own beverage, staring at the empty room. Other than a couple shelves and crates that hadn’t fit into the U-Haul, some scattered wiring and electrical components that Jared can never seem to remember the names or functions of, and that giant photograph of Gavin Belson (turned, mercifully, to face the wall), there’s not much else to see.

“Can I ask you a question, Gilfoyle?” Jared says quietly.

“Why was I so attached to a stupid fucking machine that I built with my own two hands, that sat in here holding every goddamn byte of data and line of code that we worked our fucking asses off for?”

“Well, when you put it like that—”

“Have you ever built anything from scratch, Jared?” Gilfoyle asks.

“I set up a bird feeder once,” Jared says. “It was from a kit that I got for Christmas at one of my foster homes, but I assembled it myself and filled it with feed and climbed up the big tree in the front yard to hang it from one of the branches. A few days later, a mother bird built her nest on another branch right above it to lay her eggs. I never saw how many she laid; it was too high up to see from the ground and I didn’t want to disturb her—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Gilfoyle mutters, taking another swig.

“—Then one day I came back from school to a crow savaging the eggs,” Jared continues. “The mother bird was so helpless against it, and it just kept tearing and tearing and eating and eating. And then—she just flew away. And the crow finished eating and

flew away, and all the twigs and bits of egg just sort of—dripped down all over the bird feeder, like some grisly tree ornament gone awry.”

Gilfoyle snorts. Once upon a time, Jared would have found it mean-spirited. Now, though, he’s come to expect the callousness. Welcome it, even. It’s a testament to how far they’ve come, if nothing else.

The door swings open again. It’s Dinesh this time, nursing a bottle of—

“Are you drinking my fucking beer?”

“Fuck you, Gilfoyle,” Dinesh snaps. He takes a long, slow swig while flipping Gilfoyle the bird.

Jared watches them stare each other down for a moment, gauging whether he needs to intervene yet again, but then Gilfoyle deflates with a muttered “whatever” and a roll of the (still cat-contact-lensed) eyes.

“Figured I’d find you guys here,” Dinesh says, seating himself on Gilfoyle’s other side. “Jian-Yang’s been chain smoking all fucking day since getting back from the airport. And blasting fucking Chinese pop ballads. No wonder Erlich wanted to fucking kill him all the fucking time.”

“Where is Erlich, anyway?” Gilfoyle asks. “You guys ever hear from him?”

Jared and Dinesh both shake their heads. Gilfoyle shrugs again. They lapse into another comfortable silence, sipping their drinks.

“So where will you two go from here?” Jared asks.

Gilfoyle and Dinesh exchange a look.

“I go where the money goes,” Dinesh says. “And right now, as big of a fucking prick as Richard is, the money’s with him and his new internet.”

“I told you when we were working with Gavin Belson,” says Gilfoyle, “I hate to see good tech go to waste. Richard’s a lying sack of shit with piss-poor management skills, but he’s still a brilliant programmer.”

“I mean,” Dinesh adds, “As long as—” He trails off, looking embarrassed, and takes a hasty swig of his beer.

“As long as what?” Jared asks.

“As long as you keep him in check,” Gilfoyle finishes.

“He fired me,” Jared says. “You were both there.”

“And then he hired you back,” Dinesh says.

Gilfoyle grunts in agreement. “We were perfectly happy leaving him out in the cold until you called us. Totally worth it, though, to watch Melcher lose his shit. Again,” he adds with a smirk.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Dinesh says. “About Richard sleeping with Melcher’s fiancee? I mean, like, before Melcher started beating the shit out of him.”

“Oh—yeah. Yeah, he told me what happened. He didn’t want it known, though, for obvious reasons. Not that it matters now, I suppose. Cat’s out of the bag.”

“Right. Point is,” says Gilfoyle. “Richard trusts you, Jared.”

Dinesh nods. “And so do we.”

“Richard went to go meet Gavin at Josefina’s,” Gilfoyle says. “I’d bet half my shares in Pied Piper that Gavin’s offering him another acquisition, and I’d bet the other half that Richard’s gonna turn him down. It’s only a matter of time before the space saver app takes off—I mean really takes off—and we’re on track to make servers, including Hooli’s box business, completely obsolete. And with the new, decentralized internet, well. It’s a brave new fucking world.”

Dinesh smirks. “What Gilfoyle is trying to say, but can’t because he’s an arrogant dick, is that even though we’re on board, we can’t do this without you. Me, and Gilfoyle, and especially Richard. We need you, Jared.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Jared says, “but it’s been a long couple of days and I should head back to my place. My squatter didn’t exactly leave the place spotless when he left, so I still have a lot of cleaning to do.”

He leans over to drop his now-empty Martinelli’s bottle into the recycling bin, then pulls himself to his feet. It feels like a longer walk than usual to the garage door opener, despite the fact that he now has a direct and open route where he doesn’t have to worry about bumping into shelves or knocking some rigging out of configuration and thereby, to quote Gilfoyle, “skullfucking the entire company.” The door opens with that familiar creak and long groan, and Jared finds himself already missing the sound.

The sun has set over Palo Alto, the sky a light-polluted haze of dull greys. Richard should be back from his meeting with Gavin soon, and Jared would very much like to have some more space to think things over before getting back to work. Suddenly he feels very tired.

“I, uh, I’ll see you two tomorrow,” he says with a half-hearted wave, digging in his pocket for his car keys.

Dinesh and Gilfoyle exchange another look.

“Hey, Jared,” Dinesh calls. “Jian-Yang’s already moved all his shit into the master bedroom. We’re gonna have to start looking for someone to take his old room soon.”

“Erlich still owns the place, so there’s no rent to pay, but even without Anton eating up all the power, Jian-Yang’s stupid smart fridge is gonna piss all over the electric bill,” Gilfoyle adds. “And we’re not exactly rich yet.”

“That’s true,” says Dinesh, “but it’s a lot of hassle to look for people and schedule showings—”

“—and we’ve got a fuckload of work to do on Pied Piper.”

“And even if we do find someone, they could be, like, a serial killer or something—”

“—which, fascinating though it may be to share a living space with someone so uninhibited in his or her hobbies, poses a very real threat to the productivity of the company. Not to mention all the potential legal bullshit that comes with housing a murderer.”

“Roommates aside, the Palo Alto housing market is more competitive than SAT prep at a private school. I bet a nice, one-bedroom condo in a convenient location would sell in no time.”

“Would make the seller a shitton of money, too.”

“Right, and driving to and from your workplace every day is pretty bad for the environment.”

“And gas prices are going up again.”

“And taking the bus or biking seems pretty inconven—”

Jared holds up a hand. “I get it,” he says with a smile. “Thanks for the invite, guys. I, uh. I’ll let you know soon.”

He surveys the empty garage one more time as Dinesh and Gilfoyle return to the house. The garage door squeaks shut, Pied Piper logo gleaming bright from the light of the streetlamps. Jared starts up his car and pulls out of the driveway. It still stings, to be sure, Richard’s betrayal and near-immediate outreach and apology. Jared doesn’t doubt the sincerity of it for a second, but it still gives him pause. Forgiveness was easy when they all thought they’d be dead in the water in just a matter of minutes. They would see Pied Piper through to the bitter end, and part ways as amicably as they could manage, under those circumstances; that had been the plan, and he had accepted it. Now that they’re very much alive and seemingly thriving, though—now Jared’s not so sure.

But if what Gilfoyle says is true, that Pied Piper will only grow from here to one day overtake Hooli as the new tech giant in the Valley, well. They’ve all of them now seen what Richard is capable of, both the good and the bad. But the three of them—Dinesh, Gilfoyle, and himself—perhaps they together can somehow save Richard from becoming Gavin 2.0.

Jared smiles to himself as he pulls into his designated parking spot behind his condo, remembering that hazy, sleep-deprived night they’d spent on the dick-jerking algorithm that gave rise to middle-out—remembers the cables he’d hauled from the garage as Gilfoyle tore holes through drywall and Dinesh and Erlich kept their viral livestream afloat. He remembers the roller-coaster tumult of his first (and last) Pied Piper board meeting; the revelations of Peter Gregory’s storage unit; the dread, then ecstasy, then alarm as they assembled in Melcher’s office that very morning, very much ready to go down as a team, only to discover their unlikely salvation via smart fridge.

Brave new world, indeed.

#silicon valley #jared dunn #bertram gilfoyle #dinesh chugtai #my fic #sv fic

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jishwatylrandtop · 7 years

Text

Perfect-A Josh Dun Imagine

Based off of Ed Sheeran’s song Perfect. Check it out my frens it’s pretty sick. I’ll get on with it. Hope you enjoy.

TW: slight cursing?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Josh had been best friends since you were little. You’ve been attached at the hip ever since he punched the kid that pushed you over and yanked your pigtails in first grade. You went to the same junior high and high school as well, and everywhere you guys went you always got the same question, “Why aren’t you two dating yet?”

At first it always bothered you because you and Josh were best friends and nothing more, and you couldn’t understand why society couldn’t just accept that guys and girls could be friends and nothing more. You were his wingwoman. always helping score dates or kisses with his crushes by talking him up to all the girls or distracting other boys. seduction seemed to be one of your greatest skills, as Josh once mentioned after you would willingly stick your tongue down a guys throat as a distraction. Over time, though, the question bothered you less and less.

Things got harder during college when you went to Ohio State and Josh stayed at home, but you always met up on weekends and days you weren’t stuck with shittons of homework. You were both in the same city, but heading on different paths, but despite that you two were still as close as ever. Soon, however, he got into twenty one pilots, and the friendship went worldwide. It hurt that your best friend was so far away, but whenever he got back in town, you were always the first on his list.

That brings you to now, sitting on Jenna’s couch waiting for the boys to come home while reminiscing about your elementary escapades with Josh while Jenna laughs out of pure entertainment while you retold the story of the previously mentioned make-out distraction which Josh calls ‘the seduction expedition.’ His words not yours.

“So you actually made out with this random dude from your class just so Josh could get some action, really Y/N?”

“We were freshmen, Jen. Would you have rather I strip tease as a distraction?” you laughed at Jenna’s reaction.

“OH gosh no!” She yelled while gasping for breath.

“Could you imagine, Jenna?” you began “little 14 year old me with no tits stripping to help my best friend score?” You both broke into hysterics again only to be interrupted by the doorbell.

“Y/n could you get that I have to grab something to show you.”

“Sure Jen.” You drag yourself off the couch and to the door. Opening the door while shout back at Jenna “Just wait ‘til you hear about Josh falling out of a tree to get a girl’s attention.” You chuckle to yourself turning back to the door. “Oh Tyler. Sorry I was just telling your wife embarrassing stories about our best friend.”

“It’s alright” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a hug. “It’s good to see you again.” You step aside and allow him in.

“Jen it’s for you” you call for Jenna, and she comes bolting down the stairs, and flings herself into her husbands arms. They hug for nearly a minute before they let go, and even then they just stare at each other. Feeling awkward for interrupting you decide to take your leave. “uh, sorry to interrupt this beautifully tearful reunion, but I’ll head out so you two have some alone time.”

“No please, y/n” Tyler begins “I would love to hear all the embarrassing things Josh did before I knew him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He didn’t?” Tyler giggled at the latest story about yours and Josh’s escapades.

“He did! He jumped in the 5 degree water because he was trying to impress his crush.” You wheezed while you thought about the look on his face when he jumped in. You smiled to yourself.

“Did it work?” Jenna asked from her spot on Tyler’s lap.

“No that’s the best part. She was so unimpressed.”

“Did it impress you?” Tyler asked, smirking for a reason unknown to you.

“A little. I never would’ve done it.” You clutched your stomach, the three of you flailing around with laughter. You were happy with Tyler and Jenna, but you felt a hole because your best friend was missing.

“You okay y/n?”

“Yeah, Ty. Just missing Josh s’all.” You shrug. “Where is he anyway?”

“He had a rough couple of nights the past couple of weeks.” Tyler replied. “I’m sure he’s just catching up on sleep. He’ll visit soon.”

“Is he okay? What happened?”

“His anxiety spiked, but he’s okay. Calm down y/n”

“I know I’m sorry. I’m just worried about him ‘cause–”

“Cause you’re in love with him.” Tyler finished for you.

“I-I’m” you stuttered shocked at the accusation. “I’m not in love with Josh. Are you insane?”

“Think about it y/n.” There you sat, thinking about Josh and how he is the only source of light in your life. You think about his smile and his crinkly eyes and his laugh. You think about the times when you hang out together, and how at those times it’s like nothing else matters. You think about all your romantic relationships and how none of them have worked, and you think about the cause and how none of them have made you feel like the way that Josh made you feel.

“Oh my God I’m in love with Josh.”

“Ding ding ding. We have a winner. Tyler you owe me five bucks.”

“Guys this isn’t a joke! What do I do?”

“You love him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You go home after a couple of hours with Tyler and Jenna. The revelations taking their toll on you, and as soon as you get home you fall on your couch and fall asleep.

You wake again, a couple hours later to an incessant and annoying pounding. You check your phone, noting the 3:00 shining back at you. The knocking continues, realizing its the door, you stand, fix your hair, straighten the dress you fell asleep in, and head to the door. “Who the fuck is at my door at 3 in the fucking morning?” you mumble on your way to the door. “What the fuck-Oh Josh?”

“Y/n!” He grabs you by the waist and pulls you into a hug. Oh how you missed his hugs. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Jishy.” You pull back. “What brings you here at this ungodly hour where no one should be standing let alone awake.” You giggle.

“Sorry,y/n. I know its late, or early, or…whatever, but I’m awake and jet-lagged as hell, but most importantly I missed my best friend. Come on, let’s go.”

“Jish, it’s 3 am. Where could we possibly go? Nothing’s open.”

“I planned a picnic come on.” He smiles that crinkly smile, and your resolve disappears.

“Alright, Jishy. Let me get my shoes.” You run upstairs to your bathroom to fix your makeup and hair. Grabbing your shoes, you rush downstairs and out the door, locking it behind you, and to Josh’s car.

“Buckle up, buttercup.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Josh drive outside of town to a field on the edge of a forest. He pulls out a couple of blankets, a picnic basket, and a small speaker. “Josh this place is beautiful how’d you find it?” He sets a blanket down, and places the basket and speaker down on top of it. Plugging in his phone, he turns on his music turns toward you.

“I found it a while ago when I needed to sort through some things in my head. I thought it was pretty refreshing.”

“It wonderful” you said as you stared at the stars. There was little light pollution over the field so you could multitudes of stars, something you always loved to see.

Josh stared right at you, “It sure is.”

Unaware of his gaze you turn to the picnic. Slipping off your shoes and taking a seat, you begin to pull out the contents of the basket. “Hey drummer boy, are you gonna join me, or am I going to have to eat this dessert feast by myself?”

“I’m coming, princess, calm down.” You laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josh’s POV

Y/n and I spend the next hour and a half laughing, talking, reminiscing all while stuffing our faces with all different kinds of desserts. Y/n was in the middle of retelling a story about a hobo who she found chasing a rat when the song playing through the speaker caught her attention.

“I found a love for me. Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead. Well I found a girl, beautiful and sweet. I never knew you were the someone waiting for me.”

“Oh my gosh I love this song.” She stood and began to twirl and sway to the music.

I watched her dance lightly, unable to keep my love for her from showing on my face. Luckily, she didn’t notice. She just danced and danced to the music playing from my phone. “I know. You wouldn’t shut up about it. It’s all you talked about.” I replied. She stopped and stared at me. Her y/e/c eyes met mine, and I felt my heart speed up a little. God, she was beautiful.

“Dance with me” was all she said. Pulling me to my feet and bringing my hands to her waist, we slowly rocked to the music playing softly from my speaker.

“’Cause we were just kids when we fell in love not knowing what it was I will not give you up this time But darling just kiss me slow Your heart is all I own And in your eyes you’re holding mine”

“Can I tell you something?” she whispered looking up at me through her eyelashes. She took my breath away. God, why couldn’t I just tell her how in love with her I am.

“Yeah.” I whispered back. I don’t know why we were whispering, it just felt right, like we didn’t want to ruin whatever moment we were trapped in

“I was with Ty and Jenna earlier, and I realized something” she began “something that could change everything.” She glanced to our feet, blushing.

“Baby, I’m dancing in the dark with you between my arms barefoot on the grass listening to our favorite song”

“Give me a second this is hard for me.” She let out a breath. “This thing has always been there, you know, and it really didn’t hit me til today…god, I’m a mess.” She let out a breathy laugh, playing with her fingers that were linked on the back of my neck. Why was she nervous.

“When you said you looked a mess I whispered underneath my breath But you heard it Darling, you look perfect tonight”

“Why are you so nervous y/n? It’s just me.”

“I’m nervous because this could ruin everything!” She stilled,but her hands remained wrapped around my neck. “I’m nervous because this realization changed everything and if I don’t say anything it’ll eat me up inside.” She sighed. “I’m nervous because we promised that we will always be honest with each other, but this is the only thing that I have ever doubted telling you.” Then quietly, like I wasn’t supposed to hear, “I’m nervous ‘cause I could lose you.”

“Well I found a woman Stronger than anyone I know She shares my dreams I hope that someday I’ll share her home”

“You won’t lose me, y/n.” She looked up, surprised that I had heard her. “Whatever it is it won’t scare me away.” I smiled. “I’m here to stay.”

“I found a love to carry more than just my secrets to carry love, to carry children of our own”

“Okay here it goes.” Her eyes met mine, once again taking my breath, and all my coherent thoughts, away. “I’m in love with you, Josh Dun. I’ve been in love with you for years. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t even remember when it began, and I know you don’t feel the same, and I’m sorry if this makes our friendship weird, but I’m so in love with you it takes my breath away, and I don’t want to be anywhere else when I’m with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your POV

There was a pause. You held your breath waiting for any reaction from Josh. Still there was silence, so you unlatched your finger from Josh’s neck. “I’i m sorry I-I” You pulled away, readying yourself to run. This was a huge mistake. But you suddenly find yourself pulled against Josh’s chest with strong hands holding you still and Josh’s lips moving against yours. Bliss.

“We are still kids, but we’re so in love fighting against all odds I know that we’ll be alright this time Darling just hold my hand Be my girl, I’ll be your man I see my future in your eyes”

Josh smiled that Cheshire cat-like grin. “I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” Relief flooded your face and you laughed.

“Me too, Jishy. Me too.” You pulled him against you again. Chests meeting chests, lips meeting lips. Hearts meeting hearts.

“Baby, I’m dancing in the dark with you between my arms barefoot on the grass Listening to our favorite song When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful I don’t deserve this Darling, you look perfect tonight”

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Josh laughed looking at you like you tend to look at the stars.

“Because we’re idiots.” You leaned against Josh, burying your face in his neck. He kissed your hair.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

“And I’m yours.” You smiled. Your lips meet Josh’s once again.

“Now that I’m allowed to do that I don’t want to stop.” Josh kissed all over your face.

“Me either.”

“I love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you too, Jishy.”

“Baby, I’m dancing in the dark With you between my arms Barefoot on the grass Listening to our favorite song I have faith in what I see Now I know I have met an angel in person And she looks perfect No, I don’t deserve this You look perfect tonight”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this. I do take requests just hmu. Should I start writing more? Let me know. Feedback is appreciated.

#josh dun imagine #josh dun x reader #twenty one pilots #josh dun

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aikainkauna · 7 years

Text

Wait, what? Periods=badfic, now?

So apparently there’s a bit in Fifty Shades where he pulls out her tampon to fuck her, and *that’s* supposed to be an example of the heights of bad writing the work descends into? As in, leaving the literary merits of ELJ’s writing aside, the tampon itself was being made into the crux of the argument, and there are so many problems there that make me grit my cranky old sex-positive feminist teeth.

So. Basically. Are you sure this is still within the realms of “that’s just bad writing”, and whether or not it’s just slid into the good old “stupid woman, she doesn’t know menstrual blood is GROSS!” kind of whining?

Because I have written Jaffar doing something akin to that to Yassamin. He has had menstrual sex with her in at least two fics I can remember, both of which involve mentions of blood and pain, and the means through which they get around it to have sex.

So that makes me a badfic writer, then?

Look. If you think menstruation is gross--and especially if you menstruate yourself--you need to take a long hard look at the hate that’s being imposed onto your mind and onto your body (and all bodies with uteruses) through social conventions like these, and need to jettison that shit stat.

I had some batshit kids fling similar arguments at me ten or so years ago, all surrounding this idea of how “gross” I was for not understanding that saying a NC-17 porn fic got me off was somehow disgusting. Because, to them, I just did not understand that ladies aren’t supposed to talk about sex, (even in the context of what was literally pornography, as in, material made to get someone off). As opposed to me just being fucking honest about sexuality, and often deliberately so because of my aversion to prudishness, which is never not misogynistic, and never not a product of very specific Victorian-Christian cultural ideas. But no! Apparently ladies should not mention they wank, even when they’re wanking, to material other ladies have written for wanking purposes! How much more hypocritical can you get?

So, ELJ’s IQ aside (which is not my point), this accusation of “that poor stupid girl doesn’t realise something is gross!” always combines both the ideas of a) female bodies being icky, especially when it comes to their reproductive organs and sex (when they could just as well be revered as the source of all life and of the greatest pleasure one’s body can ever experience upon this earth, which happens to be my unabashed Pagan view) and b) the good old “women have no agency” thing fandom (and our culture, liberal or conservative) always loves to apply to its criticism of everything women ever do.

Note how this automatic, default idea of “doesn’t she understand what she’s doing?!?” applies to darkfic antis, kinkhaming antis, anti-shaving antis, biphobes/femmephobes who think lipstick queer women just try to pleasure guys, all kinds of antis who are, despite trying to use feminist language, brainwashed into the same old “women have no agency and are doing everything for the guys” POV. (And here I thought I was whacking off to a villain ravishing a heroine because I preferred his looks and his characterisation to the heteronormative beefy hero, my hand feeling wonderful on my pussy because it was super sensitive now that I’d shaved it and because the heroine’s long hair, red lipstick and ample curves appealed to my sexual orientation towards feminine characteristics! I’m glad you informed me that by doing this in the privacy of my bedroom, I’m flinging women and children into the hands of rapists and paedophiles, and am probably somehow stroking not my own bits but the bits of a creepy old man somewhere! Right. I’m so sorry. I’ll stop having pleasure and suffocate my sexuality immediately and admire the clean-cut beefy hero *chastely* from afar as I should, my muff reeking of great justice!)

TL;DR Whenever you apply the argument “bitch doesn’t know what she’s doing” without firm evidence from said bitch, you’re removing agency from that bitch.

One of the reasons I’ve written menstrual sex a couple of times has been exactly because it’s a normal (if annoying) part of life for anyone born with a female body, and the more people read about in a context where it’s handled in a neutral way that portrays it as the normal part of life it is, the better. It’s something everyone of fertile age in a long-term, sexually active relationship will have to address at some point in relation to her sexual life. So I write about it the same way I write about, say, Laura noticing how her having grown breasts completely changes the way people respond to her, or how Yassamin’s ashamed of her big Caesarean scar and slightly sagging belly after she’s had kids, or, indeed, the trouble a 50+ guy might have with maintaining erections.

Also note here that I’m not one of the extreme “but it’s all natural and BEAUTIFUL and wonderful and also we should all paint with our menstrual blood and also if you have cramps it’s just internalised misogyny!1!” hippie squad. *I have endometriosis.* I know what debilitating pain and blood loss are all about; I’ve repeatedly gone into pain shock and lost consciousness and been hospitalised for my contractions, when painkillers have been inadequate or administered too late. And I know very well how--even if I might be at my horniest and my most supermega-orgasmiest at that time of the month--you might really not want to bother with sex then, because of all the mess and pain it will entail. (Also, PMS rage is fuelling this very post this very moment. But sometimes that’s a good thing.) So I completely, utterly agree that periods are, on the whole, not a lot of fun, and whoever invented them should be taken out to the street and shot.

BUT. And this is a big but: this is why I, deliberately, write alternative universes in which things are different, because of how cathartic and how healing that can be. My writing serves a double healing purpose: it’s both active sex-positive feminist work (you could argue that anything that helps women get off is feminist as such), and it also goes out there to comfort the readers where it hurts the most. I write about Jaffar and Yassamin developing a spell to seal her cervix during sex--for both contraception, and to stop a bloodbath, if they want to have sex during her period. I’ve written him comforting her in her pains and being understanding about them; I’ve written him medicating her violent bouts of PMS depression and rage with everything from opium to hard BDSM fucking and cuddles.

But most of all, I write stories in which both the ideas of pollution/shame, and the problems of pain and blood loss are addressed, and *fixed.* I write stories in which the idea of grossness is smashed, and I write stories in which adequate pain relief is administered and the sufferer isn’t belittled for her pains. Because in a world with a shitton of such shaming and misunderstanding of the potential pain going on, and where gynaecology is poorly understood and under-funded to a shocking extent and where its methods involve absolutely horrid hormone treatments and slashing and cutting and burning? Writing about adequate treatments and understandings and compassion for such is *vitally* necessary to a) work against that shame, to lessen it, and to normalise something that’s unnecessarily shamed (as if the pain wasn’t bad enough!) and b) to provide long-overdue hardcore comfort in the absence of said spells and near-nonexistence of guys who Get It.

But, overall, my main point is, *grossness is in the eye of the beholder.* If you apply to this (or anything similar) the good old rule of thumb of “well, does it hurt anyone?” or even “are they in public and frightening the horses/ruining someone’s appetite?”, and the firm answer is “no,” it’s nothing to be worried about. The good old “well, do guys worry about this?” is also worth applying here, just as it is in all aspects of life. (Women bash badfic writers for menstrual sex because it’s “gross.” Guys run sites like Rotten.com and exploit toilet kinks for $$$ with niche porn sites. You know. Bit of a discrepancy there.)

Anyway. Rant over. But outdated, prudish, female-body-bashing ideas of what’s gross=/=badfic.

#i bet someone will completely miss the point and read this as a defense of fsog... which it isn't #meta #writing #menstruation #sex positive #whatever the fuck else to tag this as #fandom #fannishness #idk #literally the only time i have caused another living being harm with my menstrual blood #was the time noki was headbutting my legs when i was on the loo and taking my mooncup out #and i had to yank it out hard because it was stuck #and as a consequence the damned blood flew everywhere but mostly on the terrified cat's face #...yes i am the queen of tmi but it's never not deliberate #there are worse things people behave 'inappropriately' for that just generally makes them asshatty #even some supposed great justice things #but the shaming of female bodies for normal biological things is just fucking ridiculous #there have been pagan rites in which the damned blood has been a sacrament #and it still is in certain pagan and tantric rituals #and as jaffar knows his tantra he would--thank fuck--know about it #which is again another fantastic reason to write about him #but anyway in this day and age we've got ao3 and its tag system #so if you don't want to read about it that's fine #but once someone starts judging fic because of an inclusion of something like this #then it's no longer literary criticism #but something altogether more depressing

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