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#the world is telling you to rest
staarknaked · 3 months
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It's late and I don't give a shit about being eloquent. I don't get how AFAB non binary/GNC/agender/genderqueer and transmasc people can be comfortable in a space that doesn't make space for trans women. If they're excluding trans AMAB experiences, they're not respecting your gender identity. Full stop.
The mindfuck of realizing AT PRIDE that as an afab non-binary person, the lesbian spaces that excluded trans women meant that those spaces did not see me as anything but a woman by what's in my pants. It's invalidation by association and I don't get how that doesn't track for people.
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anodymalion · 2 months
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The hero's sword arc of Frieren is only a single chapter but it's probably the chapter I think about the most... You have the classic sword in the stone that can only be pulled by the hero who is destined to save the world. So of course Himmel, the legendary hero, is the one who freed it.
Except: he didn't. He failed. He couldn't pull the sword from the stone. He wasn't the prophesied hero who would save the world.
And he went, okay, well, people really need a hero right now. So I'll just pretend to be one anyway. It doesn't really matter if I'm a fake or not if either way we're helping people.
And he did. He was a pretend hero. And they saved the world.
And now eighty years later there is no one left to remember that he never pulled the sword from the stone at all. It's easier to believe that he did, because he saved the world, so he must have been the destined hero. But he wasn't. The sword saw him and rejected him, and he simply went on anyway, because he wanted to help people, and that's what it takes in the end to be a hero, really. The four of them saved the world, and the true hero's sword sits quietly in a cave somewhere, rusting away, forever, unneeded.
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zivazivc · 2 months
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guess who
I've seen a few artists I like making human art and I got inspired to make my own.
First version was based just on their character designs and personality, and what inspired their look in the first place. Second version happened when I took into account their backstory and what I imagine human versions of their parents' would look like. I don't consider either of these "canon", because to me they're just trolls but it was a fun experiment to try.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming of me drawing little colorful dolls
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front-facing-pokemon · 4 months
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medi-bee · 1 year
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Warmup doodles that turned into more
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iamumbra195 · 2 months
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SBG Hunger Games AU
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Ashlyn, forced to survive and take on a leadership role she never wanted in the rebellion. Her parents teaching her to survive as best as they could in hopes that she could protect herself if she ever got hurt and refusing to let her put her name more than once for the reaping no matter how hard things got, only to watch her name get picked out of hundreds of others and not being able to do anything as their only daughter was thrown into a death tournament for the amusement of the rich and powerful. Ashlyn doing her best to survive the games and resenting Aiden for stepping all over her boundaries and poking his nose into her business but slowly learning to love him as time goes on. Her being forced into the arena of her nightmares a year after she and Aiden got out, knowing only one of them would walk out alive this time and she wanted it to be him. Her losing him despite doing her best to try and keep him alive.
Aiden, so hopelessly devoted to a single girl it destroys him. Aiden, the son of the mayor and his wife, whose cousin was reaped just two years before him, losing his voice and passion for singing in the process. Him watching the girl he liked (and was kinda obsessed with) get chosen for the games shortly before his name was pulled and finding it vaguely ironic because he'd always wondered what it was like to die but he'd never really expected that he would die this way. He was always testing the boundaries with the peacekeepers, seeking out dangerous things that he knew would get him in trouble. Aiden, who already knew what the outcome of the games would be because he would make sure of it himself-- make sure Ashlyn would come home even if he didn't. Him watching as she offers him the berries-- both of them go home or neither of them go home-- and falling in love with her all over again. Him volunteering for his cousin and swearing to make sure Ashlyn will be the only one to walk out all over again because he knows they won't get lucky again this time.
Ben, big and charming with a love for singing that helped him get sponsors when he was reaped, having his throat heavily damaged during the games by one of the careers. He beat them to death in his anger and his throat was fixed by the capitol but it was forever changed and artificial and Ben hated the sound of it so he never spoke or sang again, getting angrier and more defiant of the capitol until his family's home was burned down and he realized the capitol would kill them at any time if they wanted to. So he kept quiet and remained on his best behaviour, letting his hatred and anger fester inside him as other kids were reaped and then his cousin, his reckless stupid cousin was reaped and Ben knew he would die in that arena while he could do nothing but stand there with clenched fists and poisonous rage. But Aiden survived against all odds and there were whispers of rebellion and Ben began to hope-- until the victors are reaped and Aiden volunteers for him despite all his protests and he is forced to watch from the sidelines all over again, hoping that Jasmine and District 13 can extract them all from the arena in time.
Tyler, hardened and angry from loss, clinging onto the family he has left and volunteering as tribute when Taylor gets chosen so she never has to fear for her life only for her to get chosen again the next year as a punishment for his own defiant nature. Taylor, who manages to survive her games, watching her brother continue to suffer to protect her from the darker sides of being a tribute. Marianna, a victor who had a mental breakdown after the capitol killed her husband, watching her children go through the same trauma she went through and not being able to do anything about it. Tyler and Taylor being pulled back into that nightmare arena and Marianna volunteering for Taylor and dying in the arena to protect Tyler in the only way she could. Taylor, helplessly watching from the sidelines as her mother dies and falling apart at the seams when she realizes they didn't manage to get Tyler before the Capitol got to him.
Logan, intelligent and kind despite all that he went through, managing to get through his games by being underestimated and hiding with the career pack. His parents watching as he used their knowledge of botany (and drugs) to survive in a forest landscape where tributes from District 3 would generally struggle to survive and coming home despite all odds. Him being dragged into the games all over again barely a few years later.
Ashlyn, Aiden, Tyler, Marianna, and Logan being allies in the games. Ben, Taylor and the others working with District 13 to get the victors removed. Aiden and Tyler being the ones lost to the Capitol. Ashlyn, forced to be a symbol. Taylor becoming more angry and vicious because she has lost her whole family at this point. Aiden and Tyler coming back not quite right, not fully human. Alex Laurier taking on a bit of a mentor role for Ashlyn like Boggs did for Katniss, warning her not to trust Maverick.
Ashlyn and Aiden helping each other heal, the gang and their parents coming together in the end and helping each other heal because they were still kids by the end of it all, even if they were never truly allowed to be.
IT FITS THEM SO WELL, I'M GONNA GO CRY IN A CORNER WHY DID I THINK OF THIS? 😭
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tinypuffballofanger · 2 months
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man you gotta love how people will shout from the rooftops how autistic laois is and then in the next breath call him a little freak that no one can possibly understand the perspective of
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xyaltos · 3 months
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aa noco doodles mostly fanart for @starryluminary 's au bc i felt like drawing some of the scenes in my style _| ̄|○
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greenerteacups · 4 months
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Hi! I am an ardent fan of your writing, and I hope to be as sorted and planned as you some day in my own writing journey.
My question is: you have a keen eye when it comes to planning character personality, dynamics, and such. I've also been wading through your ask replies, and your insights into how you write people and how you make them play off of each other is so wonderful to read. If it's not too personal a q, how did you learn how to write like this? Did you go to school for writing, does it come from years of observing people, do you have reading list recs for "how to write real people and real interactions"?
Thanks! This is a really flattering question. I'll try to answer it honestly, because I wish someone had been brutally honest about this with me when I was a young writer.
I didn't go to school for writing. I started doing it when I was about nine years old. It sucked very badly. I kept writing throughout high school, and it still mostly sucked, but some of it was occasionally interesting. ("Interesting" here does not mean "good," by the way.) I took a break in college, and then came back. I've been writing ever since. Sometimes, I feel good about it. A lot of the time, I don't!
I hate giving this advice, because I remember how it feels to get it, and it's the most uninspiring, boring-ass, dog shit advice you can get, but it's also the only advice that is 100% unequivocally true: you have to write, and specifically, you have to write things that suck.
I do not mean that you should make things that suck on purpose. I mean that you have to sit down and try your absolute hardest to make something good. You have to put in the hours, the elbow grease, the blood, sweat, and tears, and then you have to read it over and accept that it just totally sucks. There is no way around this, and you should be wary of people who tell you there is. There is no trick, no rule, no book you can buy or article you can read, that will make your writing not suck. The best someone else can do is tell you what good writing looks like, and chances are, you knew that anyway — after all, you love to read. You wouldn't be trying to do this if you didn't. And anyone who says they can teach you to write so good it doesn't suck at first is either lying to you, or they have forgotten how they learned to write in the first place.
So the trick is to sit there in the miserable doldrums of Suck, write a ton, and learn to like it. Because this is the phase of your path as an artist when you find what it is you love about writing, and it cannot be the chance to make "good writing." This will be the thing that bears you through and compels you to keep going when your writing is shit, i.e., the very thing that makes you a writer in the first place. So find that, and you've got a good start.
Some people know this, but assume that perseverance as a writer is about trying to get to the point where you don't suck anymore. This is not true, and it is an actively dangerous lie to tell young writers. You are not aiming to feel like your writing doesn't suck. You are aiming to write. You are aiming to have written. Everything else is dust and rust. And of course, you'll find things you like about your pieces, you'll find things you're proud of, you'll learn to love the things you've made. But that little itch of self-criticism, in the back of your brain — the one that cringes when you read a clunky line, or thinks of a better character beat right after it's far too late to change — that's never going away. That's the Writer part of you. Read Kafka, read Dickens, read Tolstoy, you will find diary entries where they lament how absolutely fucking atrocious their writing was, and how angry they are that they can't do better. A good writer hates their sentences because they can always imagine better ones. And the ability to imagine a better sentence is what's going to make you pick up the pen again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.
Which is what I mean, and probably what all those other annoying, preachy advice-givers mean, when we say: a good writer is just someone who writes every day. It's that easy, and that hard.
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moongothic · 4 months
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So I'm confused about something. There was a cover story about Ms Goldenweek and other Baroque works agents breaking Crocodile out of prison but he just. Told them no? And stayed there with Mr 1 and Mr 2? I don't get why he wanted to go to Impel Down just to break out when he had the chance
I can't tell you 100% why Crocodile chose to stay in prison and go to Impel Down, but my best guess really is that he was just...
Taking the L with grace
More specifically. Crocodile had lost everything. I think deep inside he might've been literally too depressed to want to go free again.
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Like he does literally say that. He gave up.
He had been building his reputation as "the Hero of Alabasta" for at least 10 years at this point. He had built not just a criminal organization that he had been running for four years, but also he had been running legal business stuff (like his casino) for probably longer than that. A decade's worth of work and effort to take over a country, and most importantly, get away with it. The reason he had orchestrated that whole rebellion was so that the rebels and the royal family could "take each other out", leaving the country wide open for a World Government Official such as himself to take up. The reason Baroque Works was doing this all in secret was so that the WG never found out, otherwise they wouldn't have let him have Alabasta.
But indeed, his plans were foiled by a kid in flipflops in less than 24 hours, just at the final moment before Crocodile would win. He lost everything. And the World Government found out about what he had been planning.
So even if he escaped from that prison with his former agents, what was he going to do?
He wouldn't be able to take over Alabasta anymore because he did not have manpower (as he had lost all his goons), and having lost his financial empire he wouldn't be able to build a new army any time soon. And even if he did, now that they knew what he had done the people of Alabasta would not accept him as their new king, even if he personally assasinated Cobra and the entire family. Not to mention, the WG finding out about his plans meant that they had every fucking reason to try and stop Crocodile if he did as much as set foot on that island again. By which I mean, they could launch a Buster Call on his ass. Send all the fucking Admirals after him. And so, even if Crocodile still believed Pluton was somewhere in Alabasta and that he just had to comb through the entire desert to find it... Between the Alabastan people and the WG in the way, finding Pluton would not be easy. Especially when Robin wouldn't even be there to just point him directly to it. It could take years, if not decades, while fighting off the WG by himself. And that's while assuming Pluton was somewhere in Alabasta. Like WE the readers now know Pluton is in Wano, but since Robin didn't tell him that. All Robin said was that the Poneglyph "didn't mention the weapon", and Cobra's reaction to the name merely proved the weapon's existence in Crocodile's mind. But surely, because Crocodile is a smart young man, he'd understand there was a risk that Pluton could exist, but just not be in Alabasta, right? Like that would be a possibility too, right?
I think this is why Crocodile has given up on Alabasta. He had one opportunity at seizing the country, and he failed. And without Robin, he could spend the rest of his life combing through a haystack for a needle when there's no needle, and he'd have no idea. I think is why he explicitly says in Impel Down he no longer has "interest in that country". He won't be able to pull off another stunt like this, ever.
And that leads us back to "why not escape earlier and avoid going to Impel Down to begin with". Thanks to his status as a Shichibukai, Crocodile hasn't been on the run from the WG for like two decades. And the past 10 or so years he has seemingly lived a life of luxury in his funny little casino. But now, having lost everything, he'd be back on the run. And because he's a world famous former "hero of the people", there would be nowhere he'd be able to go where people would not recognize him and send the marines after him. So he'd be on the run, for the rest of his life or until he'd get capture again. And mind you, the guy does not trust anyone, so he'd be on the run alone. Without any purpose or goal.
And you might be thinking, "Daz and the rest of BW was still there!", yeah, arguably true. But at this point Crocodile had no reason to trust any of them. Like personally, I think the reason Crocodile ended up taking a liking to Daz was BECAUSE he chose to follow him to Impel Down when he really did not have to. Like Daz showed an unusual level of loyalty to Crocodile, and I think Crocodile recognized that. That's why Daz is still with Croc, post-timeskip. But Miss Goldenweek and co? Crocodile had no reason to believe they wouldn't betray him if given a chance and a reason. And if the WG would come chasing his ass, they'd have plenty of reason to try and betray Croc (handing Crocodile over to spare their own lives). Not to mention, when they come release their former boss from jail, what did Miss Goldenweek say?
"Let's do Baroque Works again"
As I've already explained in detail, I think we might know why Crocodile wasn't interested in being Baroque Works' "boss" again.
So. Yeah. If in Crocodile's mind he'd be on the run from the Government for the first time in two decades all alone, in a situation where rebuilding what he had before would be bloody hard if not downright impossible, and he wouldn't be able to obtain what he had spent the last decade working for regardless...
Taking the L and just going to prison might've been the easier option
#Moon posting#Asks#OP Meta#Sir Crocodile#Long post#Mind you Crocodile only *left* jail because he saw AN AMAZING OPPORTUNITY for petty revenge#Like had it not been for that war bringing Whitebeard out he probably would not have bothered to try and fight WB again#Otherwise he could've just escaped prison with Goldenweek and co and travelled to the New World to fight the old man right away#((Also theoretically Crocodile might've been slightly suicidal with the ''taking WB's head'' thing))#Also worth noting that Crocodile choosing to stay in prison could've had two other purposes re:the former agents#It could've been a test of loyalty (to see if anyone would stay with him or would they all abandon him)#Which could be important to Mr Trust Issues (and to be fair he did find at least one loyal subordinate in Daz)#((Like if they had all told Croc they'd stay with him...... Who knows. Maybe he might've chosen to escape after all?))#Other option: Crocodile escaping with them would mean the agents would be in much more danger than they'd be without him#Like the WG wouldn't send tons of marines after the individual agents if they all scattered to the winds#But if they all stuck together they'd become a bigger target. And even more so if Crocodile was there to lead them#And like. IDK if Crocodile was willing to leave out Goldenweek from the assassination order and spare her... Maybe this was the same#Maybe he wanted to spare Goldenweek (and the rest?) from being put into danger by going with them?#I dunno man this reptile has far too many layers to him I can't tell what's going on in his head
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glucosegaurdian · 1 year
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Danny was a vigilante. A criminal. Someone to be stopped and hunted. And he had been for well over 100 years. He is a ghost after all. And death is for eternity.
But… then something shifted… Something changed.
Not him of course, Ancients know you can’t teach an old ghost new tricks. No… Danny didn’t change, couldn’t change, but the world around him certainly did.
Amity stayed mostly the same over the centuries, with some exceptions. New generations came and went, and old residents died. Most of the dead came back as ghosts and roamed the town, helping relatives, giving closures, and enjoying their afterlives. Others died and didn’t come back, either accepting their fate and trying for some sort of alternate afterlife or deciding that they detested ghosts to the degree that they’d rather cease to exist than become one.
Some of the original residents who were exposed to the larger amounts of ectoplasm just… stopped aging all together after a certain point, usually in their mid thirties.
Not Danny though. He still looked the same as he did on his deathday. Still eternally 14. He was, and forever is, s͉̭ͮ͊͛ͅt̞̞̱̗̮̥͛ͫͯͭŭ̜͗̎̎c͙̯̓ͣ̿̂k̥̱̪̹̼͊̅ͧ̾.
And around Amity, the rest of the world kept moving, ever aging, ever changing throughout the centuries. There were wars, revolts, rise and falls of countries….
And then came the Age of Quirks.
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oldest hero danny au by @wwcross
Aaahhhhhghggggh I love this au and I would love to keep writing about it??
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trashmakerarticle · 6 months
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Okay but before the justice league met the rest of the batfam I have a scenario
At one point one of the justice league, prolly Superman catches a ride with Batman for whatever reason and Superman being the goofy man he is, is getting awkward at the quiet notices a cd saying “the bat jams” and so he puts in the disc making a joke about Batman listening to heavy metal before B could even stop.
Superman isn’t sure what he expected but the blaring lyrics or barbie world is certainly not it, he looks over to B with shock written all over his face but Batman will not tell about the fact that the kids had contributed to make that cd for him as a joke, he will not risk the knowledge of his family getting out there, will not risk more potential danger to come there way, and honestly didn’t want to deal with the questions.
And so all he simply says is “mm good song”
Superman is FROZEN, he feels like he discovered a new layer of Batman but he still can’t believe that he owns a disc that’s called ‘the bat jams’ and has barbie world on it, he simply can’t process the information that has just been given to him.
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likeabxrdinflight · 22 days
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tired of early 20-somethings acting like harry potter was never good or had no value in its day like shut the fuck up half of you weren't even there when it peaked
#sit with the cognitive dissonance like the rest of us or shut up honestly#was it a product of its time yes#was it's author a very basic neoliberal white lady from a country with a long and unchecked imperialist history yes#was the story influenced by said neoliberal worldviews and unexamined biases obviously#does any of that make it a bad story or an unimaginative world no#you can pick apart any fantasy world if you try hard enough#harry potter was a good telling of the hero's journey written in the format of seven mystery novels set against a fantasy backdrop#we can certainly talk about its flaws or how the author's biases leaked onto the page#but stop acting like it was never good and there was never a reason those books resonated with people#it's condescending for one thing and again- if you're younger than like...24-25 you didn't actually experience the heyday of the books#if you're 25 now you'd have been like 8 or 9 when the last book came out and probably weren't reading them yet#you might remember the latter half of the movie era but you have no idea how much it was the BOOKS that drove its popularity#never before and never since has any book series had the fanfare that harry potter did and that didn't happen for no reason#so find a way to make peace with that instead of acting intellectually superior because you grew up with percy jackson instead#this 'well MY generation's preferred childhood book series is morally superior to YOURS so I'm better than you' shit drives me up a wall#like get over yourself honestly#...sorry had to get that off my chest there was this youtube video and it was irritating me
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Do you ever think Geto showed Gojo all the mundane things non-sorcerers do? Like Gojo probably grew up pretty sheltered due to possessing the limitless and six eyes. The Gojo clan knew how important he was and given the assassinations of previous users I'm sure they kept him on a tight rope.
So I can't help but think about Gojo meeting Geto for the first time and the two of them going on missions together at jujutsu tech and Geto showing Gojo all these super mundane things that he never got to do as a kid.
Like taking him to his first drive-in movie or his first concert. Taking him bowling or to arcades. All things that Geto did on the regular before attending jujutsu tech but which Gojo never got to experience.
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sentientcave · 5 months
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And They Were Roommates
Part 2!
Sooner than I thought I'd get it done, but I ended up with more time today than I thought. It's moving day! This one goes out to the two people who read this so far (ilu), and also the dream of affordable rent and friendly, walkable neighbourhoods.
Part 1 Here
Fem!SoapxFemReader
~2.6k
Alcohol mention, SFW
MDNI - 18+ Blog even if this is you know, pretty tame at the moment
Your apartment is on the third floor of a walk-up, with a little balcony off the living room, and a decently sized kitchen. The rooms aren’t too small either, and your landlord has never cared about you putting holes in the walls or painting, only that you’re quiet and you have not once been late paying the rent. She lives on the first floor, and you have a sort of pleasant, neighbourly relationship with her. It’s easy enough to like a landlord that doesn’t raise your rent arbitrarily or drag their feet on repairs, but Leslie’s also a handsome, handy butch, and her wife, Amelia, is a wispy artist, and you’ve always been on the cusp of wanting to be properly friendly. You let her know before you head off to work that you have a new roommate moving in today, and that there would be a bit of noise in the afternoon.
“Oh, you found someone? Good. You want them on the lease?” she asks.
“I don’t think she wants to be. She’s just giving me cash so I can pay it. Is that alright?”
Leslie nods. “Sure is, honey. Thanks for letting me know. Oh, and I want to do a check on the radiators before the cold weather hits— Shouldn’t need into your apartment, but the pipes’ll be clanging something awful. It’s supposed to be cold and rainy Monday, so I’ll turn on the heat, and you can text me if your rads don’t warm up.”
“Alright. Thanks Leslie.”
She laughed. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re just saving me paperwork and a trip up the stairs. I’ll be standing by this afternoon if you need the door taken off the hinges to get any furniture through.”
You head off to work, humming to yourself. There’s time to stop for a take out coffee too, something you’d been denying yourself for the last few weeks to conserve money, and the barista gives you an extra shot of espresso, just because she missed seeing you.
God, you would have hated moving away. This neighbourhood has been good to you, and starting over somewhere else would have been hard. You recognize most of the faces around you, and often get a smile or a nod when you pass by, or even a good morning from a few. It feels like being part of a community. You unlock the door to the shop, and you don’t bother locking it behind you while you quickly get things set up.
The bell above the door jingles just as you’re about to go and flip the sign. “You know, you should really keep that locked when you’re not open,” John says. He’s an irregular regular, the sort of customer you see every few days for a couple weeks and then not at all for months at a time. You like him— He’s always polite, and he always takes your recommendations seriously, and comes back to tell you what he thinks. He’s older, but in a non-distinct way where he could be anywhere from 30 to 45. The muttonchops kind of make it hard to tell.
“A customer coming in a minute or two ahead of time is not terribly concerning to me, John. And the shop is open, I just haven’t flipped the sign yet.” You do so, and dust your hands together, like you’ve just accomplished some great feat.
“What if I wasn’t a customer?”
“What, like a robber? I’d give them the money from the till and then ring up the cops so they can stand around and be useless a while.”
His stern expression cracks into a smile, the crows feet around his eyes deepening. “Alright, fair enough.”
“You’re here early. Usually don’t see you until lunch hour. Got a busy day ahead?” You absently straighten a pile of books on the table by the door before you return to your perch behind the counter to sip your coffee.
“Yeah. Helping one of my sergeants move this afternoon. Someplace in the neighbourhood, but you’ll be closed long before we finish.”
You hadn’t realized he was military, but now it seems obvious. He’s got that straight-backed, keen-eyed look to him that could belong to few other professions. “Oh, are you Jamie’s captain?” you ask, connecting the dots. It's too close to be a coincidence.
He raises his eyebrows. “You’re her new flatmate?”
“Yeah! Ha, I guess you’ll get to see how I live. Always weird when a customer crosses the threshold of familiarity.”
“Didn’t realize you two knew each other.”
“We don’t— Not yet, anyway. I’ve had an ad out for over a month, she’s the first person who’s responded that I think I could actually live with. You would not believe the number of guys who responded thinking that a picture of their dick counted as a reference.”
“Did Jamie give you references?”
“Yes, her old landlord, her LT and her Captain— Guess that’s you. But I met Ghost last night, and I didn’t really think I needed to call the other numbers after meeting Jamie.” You shrug. “Although looking back on it, I guess getting a vibe check from a giant in a balaclava is maybe not the most legitimate reference I could have received.”
“You ever think you might be too trusting?” John asked, leaning against the counter. He didn’t have a tendency to use his size to intimidate, but he was looming over you now, giving you a stern glare that you’re sure his newer recruits have nightmares about. You’re not intimidated though. You’re too familiar with him by now to be worried. He’s just got this protective, almost fatherly streak to him, and a bit of paranoia that makes more sense now that you know it’s coming from his military background.
“Have you ever thought that you might not be trusting enough?” you ask sweetly. “Not to sound trite, but I’ve found that when you approach things with an open mind and heart, things work out. But maybe I’ve just been lucky.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t been eaten alive,” John grumbles, moving away from the counter, shaking his head.
You just shake your head too, picking up your phone so you can text Jamie.
I met your captain!! Well I already knew him but I didn’t know he was your captain
The response comes in almost instantly
UR BOOKSTORE GRIL<
GIRL<
NO FOCKIN WAY<
???
caps got a crush on ye. dirty old man >:( <
Dinny wry kitty ill fight im 4 u<
You hear John’s phone ding. He glances at the screen and laughs, and then looks over at you. “Jamie just told me to square up.”
“Wouldn’t be fair. I bet she fights dirty,” you tell him. “Is that why you call her Soap?”
He laughs again, his broad shoulders shaking. “No, but it might as well be.”
John buys a couple of old westerns and heads out soon after, leaving you to putter around the shop. You get a few customers through, though not many. Fridays are never very busy. Saturday and Sunday are always the busiest days of the week, and the days that the little book shop is open the longest. From what you've gathered, Bruce, the owner, makes most of the money to keep the place going by renting out studio space upstairs. The second floor is a wide open room, and the third floor a maze of little studios. There's a bulletin board behind your counter with all the workshops and events listed. Bruce lives at the other end of the first floor, and you rarely see him. The bookstore was something for his wife, who had gotten bored and moved on to pottery, and then glass blowing, and was currently occupying a studio upstairs and writing a novel. Sometimes she asked you to read chapters of it, and you had to come up with polite ways to tell her that she needed to put a lot more work in that wouldn’t get your ass fired.
Jamie texts you updates on the move, mostly complaints about how she didn’t think she’d need so many boxes, she didn’t think she had that much stuff, as well as a picture of her reclining on a couch while Gaz and Ghost lift it into the air, with the caption RIDES HERE that you receive just as you’re locking up the store.
They gonna carry you the whole way here?
no :( LT said im 2 heavy <
rude fucker <
You should reconsider your no killing in your spare time policy Just this once
ur rite. <
only after ahm dun mvoing tho<
hes useful 2 me yet<
You giggle and stow your phone back in your pocket, picking up your pace so you'd have time to do a quick, last minute clean of the apartment and shut Red Herring in your room so he doesn’t make a run for freedom while the doors are open.
He never listens when you tell him he doesn’t have what it takes to make it out there alone.
You happen to glance out the window when a pickup truck pulls up in front of the building. John and Gaz climb out. It’s a smaller model, and the couch from the picture is strapped sideways across the short-box bed with a pile of boxes stacked neatly underneath. A blue sports car pulls up behind it, and Ghost unfolds himself from the passenger side while Jamie throws her door open and hops out of the driver’s side. You head downstairs to meet them at the front door.
As soon as she sees you, Soap runs over and throws her arms around your waist, picking you up bodily and swinging you around, like she’s a soldier returning from the war and you the long suffering wife awaiting her return back home. You shriek with laughter and hold on tight, worried that she’ll drop you. Not that it’s all that far from the ground. Maybe it’s just kind of nice to be manhandled by a big strong woman.
“Missed ye,” she says in your ear.
“Jamie, we just saw each other yesterday,” you remind her, still laughing. “We just met yesterday.”
“Pff. No matter.” She gives you one more spin before setting you down. “Awlright, let’s put these big strong lads to work, aye? If ye ask nice Gaz’ll prob’ly take off his shirt.”
“I think he should keep it on, actually,” you say dryly.
“Yer right, kitty, don’t want to get distracted while there’s a job to be done. I’ll take my shirt off for ye later, since yer insistin'.” She loops an arm over your shoulders and presses a quick peck to the side of your head before letting go and dashing back over to the vehicles, giving you no chance to say that you most certainly had not been insisting.
No one lets you help, beyond opening doors and helping them navigate corners, but you suspect that you really only would have slowed up the process. They make carrying the couch up the stairs look easy, and the whole job is done in under an hour, despite the three flights of stairs. Soap moves her car to the lot, taking the space Leslie indicates, and you walk up together, Leslie telling her the laundry hours and letting her know that she was welcome to paint her room any colour she liked.
“Hey, John,” Leslie says peering in the open door with a grin. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
John turns a curious shade of pink. “Ah, well. Things have been busy. No time for workshops.”
“Well, you’re welcome back any time. Bring your friends, even.” She claps Soap on the shoulder as she turns to head back downstairs. It strikes you that she only came up to say hello to John, who had done his best to avoid her the whole time they’d been moving boxes. “Nice to meet you, Jamie. You’d best be good for our girl.”
“Ahm always good,” Soap protests. “Ask anyone.”
Leslie glances over at Gaz, Ghost and Price, who shake their heads in unison.
“Awlright, ask anyone except these bastards. They dinnae appreciate me. Even when I was going to order them takeaway and git ‘em a few pints.” She pouts, leaning against the doorway dramatically clutching her chest. “Ahm misunderstood in my own time.”
Leslie chuckles. “Well, she’s a handful. Good luck with that one, honey,” she tells you as she trots back downstairs.
You shuffle Soap into the apartment and close the door so you can release Red Herring from the confines of your bedroom, where he’s been yowling his displeasure for the past hour. She flops over the back of the couch, landing upside down with a sigh, and pulls out her phone, head tipped over the edge of the seat. “What do ye lads want? A Chinese? Or somethin’ else?”
“We also don’t have to stick around.” Gaz looks around at the others. John is looking at your bookshelf with interest, and Ghost is crouched in the hallway, greeting Red Herring. Gaz gives you a sheepish smile. “Or, uh. Maybe we do.”
Soap hauls herself into a more upright position, both hands still holding her phone. Her core strength must be unreal. You briefly wonder if she has actual, honest-to-god abs. “You want ‘em gone, kitty? Hens only?”
It strikes you that whatever this group has going on, it’s more than a little codependent. Better to get used to them now. “It’s alright. I’ll hang out in my room if I run out of social battery. Used to do that when Fern’s friends got to be too much.”
Soap tosses her phone down and flips her legs over the side of the couch and then to the floor. “Oh no, kitty. Dinna start off bein’ accomodatin’ when ye’d rather not be. I can tell ‘em to fuck off. Weal. I can tell Gaz and the captain to fuck off. I have ta drive LT home. No cabbie in his right mind will take the poor fella.”
“Not even the one’s not in their right minds,” Ghost says mournfully. Somehow, he’s coaxed Red up onto his shoulder, and is wearing the fat orange cat like a fur stole. You can hear the cat purring from several feet away. “For some reason, I make people nervous.”
“Couldn’t be the eye black and the fuckin’ skull motif, LT,” Soap says.
“Couldn’t be the size of you either,” Gaz adds.
“Sweetest pup I know,” John agrees. “People just don’t trust these days. Sign of society collapsin’.” He winks at you.
“What’s the word, kitty?” Soap drapes herself over your shoulders and nuzzles against your hair. Her nose runs along the curve of your neck, and it doesn’t seem to bother her even a little that the other three are watching with fascination. They're trying to be subtle about it, and failing miserably. John has a book in his hands, holding it upside down. Gaz is pretending to study a picture on the wall. Ghost is… Well, Ghost isn’t pretending to be subtle. “Want ‘em to go?” Her voice sounds a little breathy against your ear, and you’re not at all sure what to do with the electricity that shoots through your whole body. “Have us some girl time?”
“They did just help you move,” you say slowly. It’s taking a moment for you to collect your thoughts enough to speak. “Would be rude to send them away without a meal, right? Plus Red just got settled into his new nap spot.” You gesture at Ghost, who’s carefully walking over to the chair to sit, holding his shoulders very still so as not to disturb the cat, his eyes still turned your way.
You're not totally sure what Soap thinks is girl time, but you think it might be several shades more intimate than you're used to.
“Aw, yer too good ta my lads, kitty.” Soap kisses the spot right in front of your ear and lets you go. Without her solid body holding you up, you briefly consider melting into a puddle all over the floor, but manage, somehow, through sheer force of will, to keep your knees from buckling.
Leslie was right. You definitely have your hands full.
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started watching A Murder At The End of the World and i'm only like 4 minutes in rn but oh my fucking god, they already did the impossible, they made synthesizing a literal audience not only not annoying but actually intriguing and effective. holy shit.
#james talks#james watches stuff#a murder at the end of the world#if you're new here or have never consumed any media: synthesizing a literal audience is one of the most annoying things anything can do#it is at best distracting and at worst condescending and grating bc it assumes and assigns audience reactions and interpretations#and it also REEKS of a lack of faith in the material itself to be able to speak for itself#most of the time it's done for no real purpose and the few times it has a narrative purpose it's done awfully#even a movie i ADORE like SCREAM (1996) was not immune to this.#the one single flaw in that movie to me is Kenny repeating the 'behind you' joke. not only is it not funny the second time but it's—#synthesizing the audience by making the characters an audience to the same movie as us and telling us how we should be reacting.#another movie that tries to do this and fails miserably is like Halloween: Resurrection which tries to make some commentary—#on media as exploitative entertainment and the audience as willing participants and equally culpable in the continuation of trauma but the—#execution of it is absolutely horrible and that's even beyond how bad the rest of the movie is.#every time the characters are watching the same media or there's an actual audience in the media it's literally never gone well—#at least as far as i have experienced. but this is the first time a literal audience in anything has actually worked bc it's like—#right in the opening and it's the audience actually getting invested in the story so THAT audience responding the same way actually WORKS#actually borderline genius tbh
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