#these writers are just so damn good at ...people!!! and all our dumb weird habits!

[knowlesian]

i’m crying over stede in the bar in e10 again, and i wanted to spotlight something i find endlessly impressive— the care these writers have when they’re landing big moments, and their laser focus on word choice.

really good writers are really careful with how they say what they say; it’s the whole “if i tell you i’m taking you to my cottage in the forest, things are probably going to be instagramable; if i say we’re going to my cabin in the woods, you’re gonna die” joke in action. the essential meaning behind those two examples is the same, the definition more or less the same, but because of word choice they drag incredibly different subtext/implications in with them.

i’m just gonna tear into it line by line, don’t mind me!

What is Blackbeard like? Is he as bloodthirsty as everyone says?

He’s absolutely lovely!

so stede’s instinct is to say ed is lovely. there’s a lot of cool things happening here; stede stuck up for ed, stede got over his urge to just nod and agree and not cause a ruckus when he feels the need to please or impress someone, and stede embraced his first and truest impulse: to be lovely, himself. 

because that is unmistakably pushback, covered in a compliment and gently delivered as stede has been taught to handle these things: the men tell us he’s a monster, and stede says oh but he’s lovely. no he’s not, is the subtext here. you’re wrong about him, stede is essentially saying.

(and in my favorite way to turn the lighthouse/kraken metaphor angle, where it’s about life as both/and, not either/or, and to be a monster and a lighthouse at once is to embrace that which makes us awesome while also embracing that which makes us suck with eyes/heart wide open: stede is also unconsciously saying ‘even if you were right! no matter what he is! he is lovely and i love him, all the while.’)

the men, as i covered in my meta here, don’t want that: they want to hear about a cartoon monster, have some cheap thrills and confirm their worldview all at once.

because of what stede says next, i want to stress: he doesn’t want to do any of this. he’s gotten through whatever stories he told after they all cheered his very presence, and he is absolutely fine bragging about his duel with izzy— things are going good in his quest to Win At Terrible Social Situations. 

(sidenote: i love how stede just doesn’t ever feel his usual need to impress and hide his more unpleasant feelings or snippy side with izzy; from the moment they met, it’s like stede just went ‘i sense your purse dog energy, and i raise you i’m not scared of a fucking purse dog?????’ for reasons that remain partially a mystery but DELIGHT ME.) 

being asked to confirm the stereotype he knows ed hates feels wrong. he doesn't know it yet, but he loves ed, and thanks to everything they went through he knows talking about ed like that would be particularly hurtful.

but: he wants attention, he wants to feel wanted, he wants to win the game for the very first time ever. 

because he didn’t win the game, in e5; he realized the game is stupid and hurtful and overturned the table, instead, and it was A W E S O M E.

that night happened, stede learned what he learned and gained what he gained, and yet: here he sits, alone in a bar even while surrounded by assholes. and he knows, down in the pit of his stomach where these kind of painful things like to take root and fester: i have never once won this stupid fucking game, in my entire life of playing it. i found out i could just refuse to play, and doing that felt amazing, but i wasn’t alone then. i am alone now, i thought i was making the right choice by coming home but i am as unwanted as ever and i don’t know how to make these pieces fit into what the world reminded me is my place in life through chauncey, while he played my specific insecurities and self-loathing like a fiddle right before he repeated the last major trauma i experienced in a way that was comedic for the audience, but horrifying and triggering for me. i am angry and scared and i hurt, i think maybe i have made a mistake though i can’t allow myself to know it, not yet— and, most painfully of all: i spent my whole life training for this, i have played this stupid fucking game and gotten nothing but scorn for it for so long, i don’t know if i can take it again after knowing what life feels like without it.

stede looks at the way their expressions change, hears the evidence of the crowd turning on him, and does not so much think as feel: i have never, ever won. 

when you invest a lot of time and energy and care into anything, be it a system or a hobby or an ideal, the hardest thing in the world to do, even harder than walking away, is realizing: well, fuck. whatever i used to get out of this, if anything, i am not getting that now. i should stop. i don’t even like this. 

so when all the men’s faces fall and he starts to lose them (“disappointed murmurs”, the captions tell us, and choose to be helpful instead of their usual approach of generally scattershot on dialogue) stede scrambles to scoop the ball he knows he just fumbled back up, and uses his audience’s word choice in the kind of social/literal echoing guaranteed to get positive results:

Oh, and of course, a bloodthirsty killer.

that gets him their approval again, complete with wide grins and a bunch of nodding that tells us this is what they want: reflect their beliefs back, stede, or you not only don’t win this one you are going to lose, and lose hard. 

these men literally cheered the fact that stede was in the room, however many stories ago that was. we know he’s known one of them since childhood; we can assume he’s at least vaguely familiar with the rest. he expected their scorn, but received jealous admiration. he’s different and has things they don’t that they actually see value in, now, not just what they consider weird gay clothes and weird gay trinkets and weird gay interests and habits that make stede weird and gay in a way they very much want him to feel ashamed about. 

just the opposite. they looked at him, and they cheered for his very presence. the feeling that gave him was a shadow of the feeling he got when he put on ed’s clothes and stumbled onto the deck in leather armor and ed said: if you motherfuckers don’t clap for my new half-drowned golden retriever of a boyfriend, i will BURN THIS PLACE TO THE GROUND. CLAP FOR HIM OR FUCKIN SEE WHAT HAPPENS, but it’s still a balm to his very bruised soul.

here’s the seductive difference between then and now: ed made everybody clap for stede. ed’s legend, ed’s status. ed’s name they were clapping for, even if stede was the one receiving the attention and applause.

these assholes might be assholes, and i think stede damn well knows their approval is not worth all this because he doesn't actually think they’re his friends or like them much as people, but they know stede’s name. stede’s new legend and his status. 

they’re cheering for stede bonnet: gentleman pirate. the crew did that once and it felt so fucking good that stede started to believe in his own potential to be just that in spite of himself.

not play at pirates; be a pirate.

and now he’s here and the crew is not, mary is Not Happy he’s back and the kids are just as unimpressed. he came back for them; they don’t even want him around.

these men? these... really annoying, could do with some therapy themselves, stuck in a toxic rut men?

for the first time: he entered a crowded room, and the people who made up the crowded rooms he spent his life alone in were happy he was there. they were hanging on his every word, up until now; he’s so, so close to winning.

so stede adds:

Born of the devil, and all that.

i mean. ohhhhh, these writers. oh these very heartbreaking and careful writers.

what did ed’s mother say, when she fed him the poison she’d been convinced to believe was a cure to the deadly illness of reaching too far above one’s station: god doesn’t want us to have these things. we could steal them, or pretend we wear them well and find out if people believe us, but god would always see into our hearts and know we aren’t the sort of people who deserve fine things.

there are a lot of things the writers could have put in stede’s mouth that would have confirmed these men’s impressions of ed that weren’t a one-two punch of accidental pain; he’s a fearsome pirate. a brilliant fighter, capable of pulling off mad plans no mortal man would attempt. he taught me a thing or two about swordplay, actually, and now back to my duel with izzy—

he says none of those things. bloodthirsty, these men gave him; not one of god’s creatures, stede filled in himself. a killer, born of the devil.

now, stede himself knows the first part would hit ed in a wound so old it festers to this day; ed confessed to him that he takes care not to use his own two hands to directly kill, not since he used them to protect himself from a man unworthy of the title ‘father’. he’s hurt people, he’s brought their deaths about. he has not killed them, and it matters to ed that stede knew that. 

it’s a thoughtless moment; he’s not consciously thinking to himself, ‘i have just, in the span of so very few words, invalidated a core tenet of ed’s identity. if he heard me say this, he would be so, so hurt: i have accidentally done something very damaging and echoed some racist talking points without realizing it. oooooh fuck. ohhhh no, i fucked up i think.’ 

however, you know that pit of the stomach, ugly feeling when you say or do something you can kind of tell yourself isn’t a big deal, but you know it actually is? and then a little voice inside you says: you should feel shitty about what just happened, for valid reasons that have nothing to do with how you always feel shitty. this one’s on you, kid, and it’s going to be on you to fix it, too.

i think that’s what stede experiences there.

he doesn’t know all the complicated reasons why, just yet, which accomplishes a couple things at once.

on the writerly level, it calls back to ed’s past and fears and helps us as an audience understand why there’s a direct connection from what he says here to stede’s immediate move into a guilt spiral at mary’s art showing; he knows he feels gross about himself later because he didn’t stick up for ed about the killer part, but only the writers know about ed’s conversation with his mother and so they can reference it in a way that calls it out to us as an audience, but doesn’t pretend stede the character has knowledge he doesn’t.

on a sociological level, it displays a much more modern and coded racism from the bar assholes, as well as a general blindness to the same from stede: he’s thinking bloodthirsty as in pirate, and that’s the surface conversation. but floating underneath it, just like it did with the french captain when he called ed an animal and the way stede stood up for ed contained a subtextual dig about ed not having a tureen, either, is that ed is a pirate who is not white. i put it that way on purpose, because that’s the quiet part loud: it’s not about who ed is for these jerks, it’s about what he is not.

so when stede upholds the legend of blackbeard in a way that would be a knife through the heart of the man behind it, the writers do a couple backflips and give us a whole essay on why and how this is happening without saying more than seventeen words and leaning hard on social cues and the kind of subtext ed understands damn well and stede has learned by now to recognize through watching ed’s response to the same— but again the writers know their shit, because they yanked stede away before he learned to decipher the code on his own and/or ed said to him in plain terms: baby, i love you, but that quiet part kept quiet stuff’s still racist. violence is violence, even when it’s the silent kind.

stede knows saying that was wrong; he can identify that he stumbled there, if not all the reasons why, and we know that because he immediately redirects. no more questions about ed at all is his boundary; and once again, the writers nail it.

the guy straight out of central ‘this one’s an asshole, folks, watch out’ casting (who made a face so excited it looked a little like he was getting off on stede saying ed was born of the devil) is no longer quite as satisfied with these stories.

he wants the monster. if ed isn’t just a monster: what’s the fucking point of this story? if stede isn’t ready and willing to throw ed under the bus, if he actually thinks ed is lovely: is he really one of them?

if ed’s not just a monster, and stede’s not just one of them: is stede the monster?

so he pipes up, you ever kill anybody? i want to feast tonight, and if you won’t give us ed you’ve always been next on our gross little menu.

that’s the other quiet part loud: stede is only safe if there’s somebody else they can all be above, together. once they’re done with ed... 

stede was never, ever truly safe among these men, is the point. he has lived his life in moments between these sorts of interactions, cringing in anticipation away from the next one before it even begins.

what do we mean when we say violence? because stede has known a kind of safety and comfort that make it easier to sleep on his nice mattress at night and supplies marmalade and fancy ships and gated communities: it has never once made him truly safe.

it has never even made these men asking stede to hurt the man he loves for their entertainment safe. it’s killing them all, bit by precarious privileged bit.

they can’t see it: stede can.

again, he doesn’t give them the answer they want. killing was unavoidable, not exciting. he’s seen death; and it changes you, forever, but not in ways these men want to hear. 

(there’s a fun thematic overlap here, between stede’s two accidental ‘murders’ and ed’s fine moral line that led him to the same sort of murderer once removed aesthetic: it’s not quite the same, but they are ideally equipped to understand the other’s situation, if only they would both open up at once and see what happens next.)

stede thinks he’s telling them killing sucks; they hear, killing is AWESOME. killing makes you a Real Man. probably it makes your dick bigger and harder, and if you kill people your horse will stop shitting itself all the time when you ride it to the bar to complain about your bitch wife with the boys and everyone will love you and you will never wake up crying in the night because you can never be satisfied.

now, they don’t actually want to do their own killing; that would be messy and hard and maybe kind of sad, but they can feed off what they consider stede’s confirmed manful glory and have a circlejerk over his proof that men like them were meant to rule the world.

another round is ordered, the cheers start up again: stede’s face remains deeply, deeply unhappy. they didn’t fucking hear him. he was so clear: they’re not listening. they’re writing their own story on top of his words, a story that isn’t about stede (or ed!) at all, and only serves to confirm what they already believe.

and he knows: ed would have listened. ed would have heard him, but ed isn’t here because stede left him behind, and to top it all off he forgot himself for half a second chasing the high of a win and said something terrible. 

seventeen words: it took seventeen words to remove any flavor from this for him.

in the end, it hurts like a motherfucker now, but in terms of character growth and stede pulling out of the cycle that’s a good thing: unfortunately but realistically stede needed to actually get the thing he wanted to realize, oh shit. oh fuck. ohhhh fuck. thanks: i fucking hate it. 

sometimes you gotta just touch that stove and find out: yes, it is in fact still hot.

god, this show is smart.

(and i don’t think it’s any mistake that before we follow stede’s depressed ass over to mary’s showing and he subtext yells I AM NEITHER GENTLEMAN NOR PIRATE, I AM SO SAD AND ALONE AND MAD AT EVERYTHING, THIS IS A CRY FOR HELP DELIVERED VIA BAD LIFE CHOICE-O-GRAM, I THINK I FUCKED UP???? we have izzy tearing down ed’s attempts to build himself back up with a similarly short sentence about what izzy thinks it means that ed is in a silk gown, pining for his boyfriend. the way this show uses narrative echoes and parallels without relying on the simple 1:1 absolutely kills me.)

#our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #my ofmd meta #ohhhhh stede you make me so sad #these writers are just so damn good at ...people!!! and all our dumb weird habits! #it's so fucking rewarding to watch this i really should just give in and do those damned recaps

[griavian]

the 36 questions that lead to love

x <- read on ao3

dream finds a list of questions that can supposedly lead to two people falling in love, so him and george try it out on stream. turns out, they don't really need all 36.

“Come on, George. It’s just a couple of questions.” Dream pleaded into the call, making George roll his eyes. He’s been trying to end stream for the past 15 minutes, but Dream always convinces him to go “just a little longer!”.

“36 questions is not just a couple of questions, Dream.” George glances at his second monitor to make sure his green screen was still black and to check a few discord messages. He had no intention to fall into Dream’s trap for another hour of streaming.

“But it says it’ll lead to love!” Dream says, exasperated. He googled ‘questions to ask your friend’ earlier and found a list of them that apparently lead to falling in love. To George, it was bullshit.

“That’s such bullshit.” He expresses.

“You’re no fun.” Dream’s voice lowered, and George can feel the pout Dream has plastered on his face. He can already predict what the next 12 hours would be like with Dream: silent treatment and being a general dickhead. George was used to it when they lived an ocean apart, and even found it amusing, but it was a totally different experience living with him. Dream would mope around, go into George’s room randomly just to not talk to him, and go as far as to blast sad music from his own room across the hall while George was trying to finish up some editing. Sure, it was all light-hearted jokes, and Dream would stop his act in a heartbeat if George was truly annoyed by it, but George still dreaded it.

“Fine.”

Dream immediately cheers up and starts typing on his keyboard while George watches his chat fly by, seeing a lot of emotes and positive messages.

“Okay, um- first question. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom,” Dream mocks the formality, “would you want as a dinner guest?”

George’s nose crinkles. “How is that gonna make me fall in love with you?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know! The queen?”

“That’s a stupid answer.”

“What!” George screeches and Dream barks out a laugh. “You’re so dumb.”

“You gotta give me a better answer than that, or else we won’t fall in love with each other.”

George rolls his eyes, but decides to think about his answer. Truthfully, he wouldn’t want anyone special as a dinner guest. “Um. My mum.”

George eyes his chat as it’s filled with “aw”s. He almost scoffs.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” George wants to punt Dream into another universe.

“Alright, who would you want as a guest?”

“Tom Brady.”

“That’s the stupidest answer ever!” George yells, his eyes wide, perhaps offended that Dream picked Tom Brady out of anyone else in the world.

“Question two!” Dream ignores, “This one is kinda dumb, but would you like to be famous and if you do, what for?”

George hums. “Probably don’t want to be famous-famous. Maybe being well-known for being the first person to invent IRL-VR. I want my body to be submerged in the Minecraft universe.”

“That’s sick. I dunno what I’d want-”

“You’re already famous.”

“Shut up. I don’t even- I don’t even want to be famous, really. I just want to make whoever knows me smile.”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet, Dream.” George teases and he knows Dream waved him off. George has his habits practically memorized.

“Whatever. How about you ask some questions?” Dream sends a link on discord and George reads through them.

“There’s no way these can make people fall in love. What even is this question? Before making a telephone call, do you rehearse what you’re going to say and why?”

“Trust the process. I mean, I do that. I don’t want my brain all jumbled up, I guess. Words are hard.” Dream answers.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that. I wing it.”

“That’s very you. Next question.” Something about Dream saying that made George smile the tiniest bit, made the serotonin flow through his brain.

“What’s a ‘perfect day’ for you?” George reads. It’s quiet for a moment.

“Hanging out with you,” his voice is sincere, “You and Sapnap. Recording, streaming, anything like that. What about you?”

“Hm. Me too.”

George isn’t one to show his feelings often. He remembers being asked if he did, and he answered with “not ones that matter”. It still rings true to this day. His walls are still built up and that’s okay to George. Mushy feelings aren’t important, but he’d be damned if he didn’t say his heartstrings were playing a beautiful melody during this moment.

The questions and answers fall easily after that. George knows it’s around 1 am, and he should go to sleep, but answering the questions was kind of addicting.

“Do you have a hunch on how you’ll die?” Dream reads the question with a chuckle. “That’s such a weird question to ask someone you wanna fall in love with.”

George tries not to read in between the lines.

“Heart failure. For both of us.”

“You know how I’ll die?”

“We’re Minecraft streamers, Dream. We’ll probably die at 40.” They share jokes and giggles of scenarios where they die and what they’d do, and something about it feels a bit too honest.

“I’ll die the day you die, George. Emotionally and physically.” Dream says, dramatic as ever. George only huffs, and they leave it there.

“Name three things you and your partner have in common. Dream, do you have a secret girlfriend?” They start to bicker back and forth, because of course they do.

“It doesn’t mean romantic partner, you dumbass. Like- it’s like a science partner,” Dream sighs, “Well, we do have a lot in common. We have the same job, we care about the same things, and we love each other! Easy.” Dream answers.

“Who said I loved you?”

“You literally did last night.” George had closed chat a while ago, already prepared for what was to come. He can only imagine what they’re saying.

“They’ll never believe you.” George says with a sadistic grin.

“Ugh. Okay, what are you grateful for in life? You have to answer this.” George can hear Dream get a little closer to his mic, almost anticipating George’s answer. Dream knows how much he doesn’t like to express any feelings, and probably expects him to skip the question overall. George prevails.

“You. Obviously,” and before Dream can get out an aww, George says, “You made my career, dummy, and I’m grateful for that. And my friends, family, all the normal things. Chat! I’m even grateful for chat.”

“Well, I’m incredibly grateful for you especially.” Dream’s voice is soft, almost loving. George rolls his eyes. He could’ve guessed Dream’s answer, but it weirdly hurts him when it was spoken aloud. He doesn’t know whether it hurts because it might be a fun little joke or if it’s because someone might care about him that much. George decides to stop thinking.

They answer more questions, from taking four minutes to tell each other their life stories (“There was no reason to add that detail; you’re so gross, Dream.”) to what significant quality they would want to wake up and suddenly have (“You’re already good at code shit, George. That’s the saddest answer ever.”). They move onto section two of the list, which are deeper questions.

“Is there something you’ve dreamed of doing but haven’t yet, and why haven’t you?” George asks. He knows about Dream’s unfinished projects. There’s probably a million answers to the question, and George would listen to every single one.

“Uh, well. You know I was writing a book, yeah? I was halfway done with it, and I can’t make myself finish it. It’s probably writer’s block, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” George frowned.

“You can’t finish it with that attitude, silly. You’re annoyingly amazing at everything.” George says with a snort, “I don’t have an answer to this. What did you say that one time? Your future is my future? Well, your dreams are my dreams, then.”

George cringes a little at what he said. He doesn’t know his viewer count, but knows that at least a million people will watch that clip out of context. Dream doesn’t say anything back and moves on to the next question.

“What is your most treasured memory?” Dream asks, and George immediately laughs.

“I definitely know your’s.”

“Do tell, George.”

“Our first Christmas together. Sapnap insisted on getting a real Christmas tree, and when we started decorating the stupid thing, Sapnap sees a spider and screeches. Then, our neighbors come knocking on the front door and you had to explain to them that nobody was being murdered, it was just your roommate being a big baby. And as if it could get any worse, I got tree-sap all on my fingers and clothes and you couldn’t help me because you were laughing too hard.”

“Pretty sure I almost choked on my own spit.” Dream adds, and George scoffs. “But no, that’s not my treasured memory.”

George sputters. “What? You’re telling me I told that to thousands of people for nothing?”

“To be fair, you were all soft on Christmas morning, so our first Christmas might be your treasured memory. Anyways, remember the first time you helped me with a code?” George stays silent, giving Dream the answer. “Well, that was the first time we had a real conversation. I made you laugh, then I started to laugh because you laughed, and we didn’t get the code done. It sounds dumb, but I always smile whenever I think about it.”

George’s face falters a bit. God, he just wants to hug Dream; he wants to make a beeline for his room and attack him with affection and make sure he knows that George loves him, platonically or romantically, George wants him to know.

He just can’t express it with words.

“That… sweet.” George’s eyes travel down the following questions and panics, seeing how personal the questions are. He fakes a yawn. “As mushy and stupid this thing is, I’m really tired.”

Dream doesn’t say anything. It almost scares George, but he deafens on Discord and bids farewell to his viewers, who were completely freaking out. George doesn’t blame them. He’s abruptly leaving after a sweet moment? That’s a recipe for disaster, and George knows better. Yet, he clicks the end stream button.

The door to his office swings open instantly and startles George. It was Sapnap, someone he didn’t particularly want to see.

“What the fuck was that?” His roommate whisper-yells.

George groans and slides deeper into his chair, covering his face. “I don’t know,” he muffles.

“Are you even trying to hide your feelings at this point?” He can hear Sapnap close the door and flop on his office’s couch. “You might as well buy a billboard that says ‘I’m in love with my best friend! His name is Clay!’ with a big ass picture of your dumb face beside it.”

“I know,” George whines. “Do you think he knows?”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about knowing. I’ve told you a million goddamn times that he’s too whipped to notice. I’m worried about the fans. They’re gonna go fucking bonkers because of this stream. Clips are gonna be shared. People are gonna speculate.”

George uncovers his face and narrows his eyes at his friend. “Thanks for the reassurance,” he deadpans.

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious, dude. I know you’re very deeply in love with him in the gayest of ways, but you gotta be careful in front of the fans.”

“Oh my God. I know, Sapnap! I know. I forgot we were even streaming. It felt like it was just the two of us, and I got too comfortable. And it was so nice. I can’t even do anything about it now, so it doesn’t even matter.”

Sapnap sighs and pulls himself from the couch. “You need to talk to him before this gets out of hand. You know I love ya, and that I’m here for you.” George cringes out of habit, but nods. It reads as ‘I love you too, I guess’.

Sapnap leaves without another word, and George is left alone with his thoughts. It’s not long before he sluggishly makes his way back to his bedroom. He opens the closed door, enters, and shuts it. He turns around, only to be greeted by a familiar person in his bed, and yelps.

Dream laughs. He’s wearing blue pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His hair looks messed with, and his cheeks seem to have more color to them. George can’t help but stare.

“Well? Aren’t we gonna finish it?”

George cocks an eyebrow.

“Finish what?”

“The questions, dummy. You don’t… you don’t have to. I mean, it’s kinda stupid that I want to do it in the first place, but…” Dream trails off. George hops on his bed and grins lightly.

“Go for it.”

They answer questions they skipped, like what is your most terrible memory (“My, uh, grandma. She died when I was about 14. It was… hard on me.” “Oh, George…”).

The overhead light was off at this point, the only light coming from a lamp on his desk and the stars shining through the window. The two are on their sides, Dream on the right of the bed and George on the left, facing each other, occasionally looking at their phones to ask the questions.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” Dream asks, his voice softer than ever. George can almost not answer. He doesn’t know.

“I’ve never been a super affectionate person, so I don’t know. I’ll give you guys quick hugs of course, but with really close relationships, I don’t know what to do.”

Dream looks as if he’s searching for something in George’s face, and George can’t tell what he’s looking for. His movements are hesitant, George sees.

“Do- um. You wanna maybe,” Dream pauses, closes his eyes,and scrunches up his face. “Try?”

“Try what?”

“Affection.” Dream lets out a breath and opens his eyes. “Affection is my strong suit, afterall.” His mouth forms into a teasing smirk despite his eyes showing nervousness.

“Um. Take the lead.”

It’s slow. So, very slow. Dream’s hand raises up and lands itself on the dip of George’s waist. He’s whispering instructions, and George listens. His hands are hung around Dream’s neck, and their legs are starting to tangle together. They laugh when they realize how far apart they are, and Dream pulls him closer. George can feel his heart beating out of his chest as he lays his head where Dream’s right shoulder meets his neck.

“Do you want me to ask the rest of the questions, sweetheart?” It sounded like a coo, and George is surprised at how effortless the pet name comes out of Dream’s mouth.

“Was that okay?” Dream whispers after a moment of George going still. He perks up.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Okay.” Dream pulls George closer and rests his left hand on his back. He starts rubbing up and down in slow motions.

George simply melts.

The questions and answers go by slower, and their voices become gentler. Dream announces that they’re on section three now, and to state three true “we” statements. Dream goes first.

“We… are cuddling?”

“Obviously, idiot.” George chuckles. “We are really tired?” Dream hums.

“We meant everything we’ve said tonight.”

“We are going to mean everything we say tonight.”

“You can’t just steal my answer.”

“Just do your third one.”

“We will be ‘Dream and George’ forever.”

Forever is a long, long time. And yet, Dream’s statement is still true.

“We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Very vague.”

“Next question, Dream.”

“Alright, alright. Complete this sentence: ‘I wish I had someone whom I could share…’”

Without a second thought, George replies, “My emotions with. Your turn.”

George swears he felt Dream squeeze him.

“My everything with. Every single little thing. Physical, metaphorical, emotional.”

“Even Patches?”

A laugh.

“Yes. Even Patches.”

“Next question.”

“Tell your partner what you like about them and be very honest.”

“Your voice. It’s like… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Does it get you going, George?”

“Shut up. I definitely don’t like your smart-assery.” George can feel Dream lean down into George’s shoulder and smile. “I like how you act around people. It’s always different depending on the person. Different with me.”

“I like how you act around people too. You’re almost always bubbly, even though you like to say you aren’t. And, God, your laugh. It’s so overwhelming, but in the best way possible. You have no idea how many times I’ve said the stupidest shit just to hear your little laugh.” George digs his head deeper into Dream’s shoulder. “I also… really like it when you say my name. My real name.”

George raises slightly, gaining the tiniest bit of confidence. “Clay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that.”

“Clay,” George whispers.

“George.” Dream sounds weak. So, very weak. George gets closer to his ear.

“Clay.”

George can’t tell if he’s joking.

“You’re gonna kill me, George.”

George’s lips brush against the outer of Dream’s ear, and his friend shivers. He decides this isn’t a joke anymore. He thinks the invisible line they had drawn in the sand many years ago has been kicked and stomped on to the point where neither of them remembers the line being there. George goes further.

“Clay, Clay, Clay,” George is still whispering, slowly brushing his lips across Dream’s jaw, and the hands around his waist get the littlest bit tighter.

George finally raises his head to meet Dream, who was a mess. His cheeks are glowing and his eyes are almost bloodshot. His breath is labored and his hands are shaky.

“Calm down, love.” George whispers and raises his right hand to meet Dream’s cheek, who leans into the touch.

“Kiss me.” Dream begs quietly, as if saying anything louder would shatter the moment in little pieces.

An adrenaline rush fills George’s veins. “Anything you want,” he says, and closes the gap.

The kiss is soft. Dream is maneuvering their bodies to be more comfortable, meaning George is pulled on top of Dream. Their lips didn’t part once.

They move together in harmony, both in the kiss and their bodies, putting everything they got into it. It was unsaid feelings and years and years of thoughts, and George felt every single one of them. George is straddling Dream’s middle and Dream is leaning up to meet George’s touch. His hands are rubbing up and down and squeezing George’s hips and George’s hands find their way into Dream’s hair. It’s perfect and imperfect and everything George has been waiting for, yearning for.

They part, and Dream pushes their foreheads together. George assumes they look dumb, but how could he care in this moment?

“Beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Dream says, his breath tickling George’s mouth. He lets out a breath and breaks out into a smile. His hands start brushing through Dream’s hair and George backs away to get a good look. Dream is staring back.

George lunges forward and wraps his arms around Dream’s neck, sending him flat on the bed with an “oof”.

“Jesus Christ, George. A warning would be nice.”

“I love you. I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you-” George couldn’t get enough of saying it. George’s dam cracked when Dream held him and fucking exploded when they kissed. He doesn’t have to hold back anymore, so he doesn’t.

“Slow down, baby.” Dream says through a chuckle. He makes George lean up with tans hands on pale cheeks and a lot of eye contact. “I love you, too.”

George’s breathing slows down to a normal, less-adrenaline-filled pace, and Dream kisses him again. George forces his head back up.

“What does this mean for us?”

“Isn’t it a little obvious?”

“Not really.”

“Boyfriends, George. We’re dating now.”

“How do you know I wanted to even be your boyfriend.” George narrows his eyebrows in faux-suspicion.

Dream’s stare is blank. “I mean. You’re- well- you know, um-”

George dismisses this shortly and confirms, “I want to be your boyfriend.”

Dream sighs in relief. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” George slides off Dream’s waist and lays facing him. Dream turns as well. “Was that question the last question?”

“No, actually. There were a few left.” Dream blinks, then muses, “Guess we didn’t need 36 questions after all.”

“That was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said and I hate you for it.”

“You wound me, George. You wound me.”

George makes up for it by letting himself be engulfed in Dream’s embrace, and feels tiny kisses on the top of his head. George nuzzles closer.

Yeah, everything was going to be fine.

#idk how to tag this but um anyways u should read this #I SPEEDRAN THIS SHIT IN 3-4 HOURS #dnf fic #dreamnotfound #dnf #dreamnotfound fic #dnf fic rec #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound

[staliasjeronica]

Riverdale S5 Ep11 Thoughts *Spoilers*

thoughts under cut to keep tag from being cluttered :)

- Oh yeah I forgot that Chad was blackmailing Veronica about the dirty dealings in her company even though it’s not her at all (unless it’s just been so long and I’ve forgotten but she’s my baby and I feel like I would’ve remembered but-

- Hiram and this dumb prison is one of the worst things for this show it’s a constant plot of people escaping and it’s so annoying like sure Hiram owns it and he was in the jail but no one has, like, taken him back to jail…??? Hiram is a fucking disease smh

- “back to remote learning” why didn’t you just stay that way though… like even right now in covid schools are opening back up and kids are complaining because it’s still not safe so like… just… go back to it??? I’m so not built for this world fasdhfkahf

- Veronica and Smithers 🥺🥺💞💞

- the way Veronica hugs Archie is so cute bc she’s so tiny but like she always gives her all and Archie is just 😐 never giving anything ahjfsdfsh it’s quite sad you can tell how done KJ is with Varchie lol

- “I really hate that I’m dragging you through this.” … what about constantly pulling him into your mob boss father mess that the writers refuse to allow you to escape from?

- “until you and Chad are officially done, I think we should keep our distance.” Varchie bones!!! you just KNOW that Archie has been looking forward to this because that man is whole heartedly in love with Betty and has been since forever and that while Chad prolongs the divorce papers, Archie will not be waiting for Veronica considering he doesn’t want her. Varchie = bones we love to see it!

- now who tf would join Penelope Blossom’s ministry… no one, realistically.

- can Cheryl stop being given the craziest and usually most boring plots ever please...

- Not someone holding a gun to Tabitha literally don’t hurt Riverdale’s best girl weirdo

- these bitches really haven’t aged huh…. poor Veronica though being robbed but like they stole some watches or something and the opal like that’s all you take..?? okay-

- Fangs 💞💞💞💞💞 also rip to him having to work with his ex tho

- STOP HAVING ARCHIE GO TO HIRAM WE’RE TIRED

- You know considering the whole reason why Hiram is still here as the villain and ruining Veronica’s life/growth to keep her in his plots al because Mark is a big soap opera celeb and apparently brings in money, you’d assume they would give him GOOD shit instead of everything he’s gotten. If they hadn’t of hired Mark can you imagine how much better off the show would be if they didn’t have to keep him around bc of his status????? God why-

- Reggie’s always there for Veronica muah…. oh fuck me I guess fjasjkdf

- “I work for one Lodge and it’s not you.” lmao okay??? you acting like that’s a flex, and that you’re working for the better Lodge who literally left you to die after the Serpents thought you shot Fangs so-

- MARTY BEING WHY REGGIE IS WORKING FOR HIRAM…….. YOUR DAD IS ABUSIVE LET HIM HANDLE HIS OWN DEBT??? God both Veronica and Reggie are always fucked over when it comes to their parents huh

- don’t you just love when they make characters act ooc for a plot ahhhhhh it’s totally fun to watch and totally not frustratingly annoying

- “FOR OLD TIMES SAKE.” 💞💞💞 we love Veggie even though they made Veronica act ooc and hurt him back then and they weren’t given an actual chance.

- “don’t be such a Betty” now why is Betty so surprised she only ever had fun when she was with Archie, when she’s with Jughead all she did was do what she wanted and order him around so likeefjhakdfh

- “he shouldn’t really be my problem anymore.” BUGHEAD BONES YASSSSS

- I know it was just a sound they used but like that squish sound when Darla kicked Tom’s face… did she like smash his face in damn what is this The Walking Dead?

- see the problem with them randomly bringing characters/parents in when they need them is that they’re never around so like no one really cares… like they could have utilized the parents so much (and Skeet and Marisol never would have left) and it would have been so much better than random appearances that make them look incompetent and awful parents because they’re never there during all the other times their kids need them. but we have to see the two toxic parents that won’t go away constantly??? literally what the fuck

- Betty calling Jughead’s writing cringey wbk she’s never liked his writing she was just stroking his ego bc she was his gf and had to be supportive lmaoo

- why are these 60+ year old men beating up Jughead like for why???

- so they just forgot that Tom was checking in on the convict huh gotta love dumbing down characters for plot!

- Fangs with his switchblade muah

- jealous Tabitha muahhh over a password

- “wait THE BETTY?"

- Cheryl looks so good

- Find meaning in his death… girl didn’t you not care that your husband killed your son over the illegal maple stuff I forgot the plot but it was something illegal and dumb

- “drain the vein” …...

- Reggie helping muah

- Why is Archie acting like an ass? like sure he doesn’t know that Chad is abusive and toxic but c’mon fucker you cheated on her and never apologized and you don’t even wanna be with her in the first place so why are you acting like you’re personally hurt sit down

- God Archie really hates Veronica huh… I don’t even blame him considering the shit she’s brought him into time and time again.

- Jughead was kicked like maybe five times yet he was fine falling out of a two story window and the serpent imitation but now he needs antibiotics..? plot convenience!

- literally don’t remember anything about Doc tbh or him talking to Donna and Bret like—

- ever since Negan people are obsessed with bats with barbed wire.

- also! yes please kill Hiram <3 I know they end up saving him bc of the opal but c'mon

- they searched basically nothing for five seconds wow such great detective work you guys!

- we know you just want his manuscript Jessica

- Cheryl with her rainbow skirt how cute!

- “daddykins” girl you’re like 25

- Veronica acting like she cares about Hiram fjsadhkfhas these guys thinking that they’d kill Hiram even though they need him lol

- bad bitch Ronnie we love her even though she’s gonna have to save her father to save others and get her opal </3

- not Veronica calling Archie first and not Kevin considering Kevin’s dad is there…. this is the pandering va fan service bs we have bc it makes no sense and it’s so forced

- Fangs knowing Archie rides with tools in his truck mmhm that’s a little sus idk how but archiefangs agenda coming through!

- no one would actually believe that Jessica ashkjdfsj and they take this bait…??? you gotta be joking lmao

- Jug got to help doc this time 🥺😭

- …. tell me why when he said boyfriend I immediately thought of Reggie I hate myself for wishing fahsdjkfsafj

- okay as cheesy and corny and awful the fight scene is since they posted a clip of it, them working together is so refreshing and nice we love leader!Veronica bc she’s so good at it. but the show only cares for Betty which is funny since she’s an awful detective fbahsdjfj

- my god enough with Jason’s body!!!!!!!!! you burned his body please let him stay dead let his body rest

- okay but the back and forth from Betty and Jessica is so good like I wish we could get that kind of rivalry drama type stuff all the time. too bad they refuse to let Veronica act like a normal person and get angry at being cheated on and such :/ when will Veronica slap the fuck out of Betty

- he’s not a blameless victim but Betty take responsibility for how awful a person you are PLEASE

- THE VOICEMAILLLLLLL Jughead only speaks the truth! it’s weird that he only realized what we all knew about Betty after but whatever, finally he gets upset like damn. also jeronica crumb he’s the only one to ever include Veronica smh ALSO Cole acted the fuck outta this voice mail muah

- the way Betty just sits there uncaring… she really is a freak huh god when will someone punch her in the face and take her ego down a million notches she’s so annoying

- “that’s darkness.” …?? what?

- the way bh’s relationship parallels jughead’s with Jessica though. the unhealthy habits, the bad energy, etc. except Jessica left it and Betty didn’t and it turned Betty into whatever the fuck this is. I miss s1 Betty :/

- so when will they sue Jessica for drugging them? mmhm probably never

- poor Tabitha being the only one who cares about jughead tho

- oh no I forgot there was a random musical number…

- you’re gonna have Betty and Tabitha act like THAT and not put them together so rude

- when will Cheryl be free from her mom. is was like turned on by abuse or something sigh why do the toxic (and most boring!) parents get plots and screen time and everyone else doesn’t...

- Veronica would be able to do Moree than pepper spray but whatever only Betty is allowed be “badass"

- fangs being fangs ugh so sexy my babyyyyy

- Trevor Stines is so attractive it’s a shame they only bring him back for five seconds to traumatize Cheryl over and over again though </3

- wow varchie in a pop’s booth what season is this again??

- god it’s so upsetting how amazing varchie would have been as just friends…

- the way he smiled at Veronica was so contradicting to the blank, “please don’t” expression when she was telling him she was gonna get divorced as fast as possible. why can’t he just admit he doesn’t want to be with her!!!!!! my god they’ve put off barchie long enough just let them be together so their characters can finally act in character and stop being so awful and annoying

- “this cause” what cause you fucking weirdo

- not Hiram threatening the mayor he could literally be your downfall if we had good writers fjasdkjfasf

- jughead how would you have killed him with a small wooden basket

- I like doc so much but I know we’ll never see him again until we randomly need him seasons from noow

- Betty wasn’t hit by the drugs until after the message though… how would she not remember? it didn’t seem to be doing anything to Betty until the bunker

- hopefully since they’re friends now Tabitha can make Betty act like a decent human being <3

- the way Tabitha looked at Betty please stop doing this to me...

- maybe we can finish that dance!!!!!!!!!!!!!! jabitha rising bughead dying we love to see it!

wow that episode felt like it was two hours long but thankfully I finally finished it… don’t have many actual thoughts but anyways hope you enjoyed my live blog of my thoughts!

#Riverdale #Thoughts #Spoilers

[vaffaznculocolmpadrter]

OC Interview: Sparrow the Druid

Rules 1. Pick one of your characters 2. Fill in the questions/statements as if you are being interviewed for an article and you were your muse. 3. Tag people to do this meme

Holy fuck this is a lot of words for a lot of questions. I hope you enjoy this out of context hullabaloo i had fun writing it at least.

       As a mysterious journey brought our heroes to the lakeside city of Thrushmoor, a man decided he wanted to know more. More about this strange band of adventurers, who were traipsing about this dour nation of Ustalav and righting some of its many wrongs. After an afternoon of asking about town, he easily discovered the name of their inn. (Appearances such as theirs are not easy to mistake, especially a young lady of drow descent and a woman with what only be described as a ‘mane’ of impossibly red hair). As luck would have it, it was those very same women he chanced upon.

       He introduced himself as a writer, and told them of his plea; they were understandably confused. (The purple-skinned elf coincidentally played the part of the shrinking violet, while her companion could not have been any more her foil if she tried). The wild, redheaded lass towered over them, and after a few more explanations, agreed to speak.

      That interview is recorded here, exactly as it occurred.

What is your name?

Sparrow.

What is your real name?

*Sparrow ruminates for quite a bit before answering.*

You know… when a serial killer ghost uses names for his dumb ghost magic, and you see the word ‘sparrow’ appear in blood on the wall… I guess there really isn’t any other answer that matters.

Do you know why you were called that?

Nah, not really, though I’ve been called that for like, EVER. As long as I can remember, even… Huh… I wonder if little me ever knew.

Are you single or taken?

What’s that mean?

*Her companion Cylerra walks over and leans down to whisper something in Sparrow’s ear. A look of realization blooms on her face as she listens.*

Oh. Uhhh… that is. Hmmm. That first one sounds about right, I guess.

Have any abilities or powers?

Oh dude easy question. First off I’m a druid do you know what a druid is yeah yeah you know what a druid is. So I’m one of those. Oh. You want a bit more than that? Uh. I’m pretty good with fire magic and… what else. Oh! Oh oh I know I don’t look it but I’m pretty good at making magical do-dad thingies.

*Sparrow waves Cylerra over again,  points to the small ornate clip nestled in her white hair, and grins.*

See that? I made it. It’s cute as fuck too, right?

Stop being a Mary Sue.

*Sparrow silently squints, her mouth slightly ajar. She closes and opens it a few times before responding*

I’m. Going to assume that’s a bad thing to be. So… sure. I guess.

What’s your eye color?

Well, if you asked me a month ago the answer’d be some kind of grey… but recently we all woke up with some sparkly ass silver eyes after a weird divine magic butterfly dream thing. I think it’s pretty neat, seeing as all of us match now and stuff.

How about your hair color?

Oh! Okay so imagine the reddest red you’ve ever seen. Ever. In your WHOLE entire life. Got it? Now…

*Sparrow hovers her thumb just a centimeter away from her index finger.*

That’s how close my hair is to your reddest red.

Have you any family members?

Huh. Hmmm… now that i think about it, I suppose I got three different families.

*Sparrow begins to count on her fingers as she lists them off. She hesitates on the first finger, motioning with it several times before speaking.*

…there was- …there is- …there- fuck! There.

*Sparrow grows flustered, sighs, and begins counting again.*

Ma and Pa. The wolf pack. And the old green dickbag who taught me magic… There, that’s- Wait… actually no, sorry. I was being dumb for a second. There’s four.

*Sparrow’s mood brightens as she turns to see Cylerra, who meekly waves back in response before returning to her book.*

I have four families.

Oh? What about pets?

I suppose you mean that wolf pack I just mentioned. Like I said before, I consider them family, which is probably going to confuse a few people. I guess I could explain a bit. They’re family because, well… they saved my life. It happened when I was little… and when I needed them most.

*Sparrow averts her gaze toward the floor, and absentmindedly begins tracing circles on the table.*

Afterwards, I was… really, really scared. I didn't want to be left, alone... So I. You know. Followed after them… I don’t remember for how long. Or how far. But then, one day… I was just. There. With the wolves. Sleeping. And eating. And Playing.

*Sparrow glances back up just as tears begin to well in her eyes. Her emotional display startled her, and she quickly wipes her face with a hand.*

Oh, wow. Jeez, what am I  doing? My friends don’t even know those details and I’m just spilling them all over your dumb stupid shitty fucking notebook… Sorry. I didn’t mean to call you and your notebook dumb. Oh, I didn’t call you dumb? Well. I was thinking it, so. Sorry about that too, I guess… So, uh. Pets, right? Um, I have a silly little plant buddy I made with magic, does he count?

Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

Let’s see…

*Sparrow straightens up a tad and takes a deep breath.*

Relaxing. Hunting. Goofing off. Solving mysteries. Hanging out with Cylerra. Poking fun at Cylerra.  Exploring. Swimming. Watching my friends do the things they like. Drinking. Dancing. Eating- Oh yeah can’t forget about eating. Feeling mud between my toes. Listening to the forest. Meeting new people. Playing with fire. Star-gazing. Seeing Trey be bad at being serious. Sun-bathing. Making nifty magic crap. Sleeping. Fucking. Kicking ass. Fl- oh, okay sure I can stop if that’s enough.

That’s cool I guess, now tell me something you don’t like.

Undead come to mind for sure. I hate zombies I hate wights I hate ghosts I hate wraiths I hate werewolf ghosts I- Oh, yeah. And FUCK mummies. HOLY SHIT DUDE DO I HATE MUMMIES. Throw every single one of them into the garbage pit and set it on fucking fire please.

Ever hurt anyone before?

I think that’s like… part of being an adventurer, right? Like. If you are an adventurer and you go on adventures if you keep continuing to adventure, you are gonna hurt someone eventually. Punching or feeling wise, its bound to happen.

Ever….killed anyone before?

I have, yeah. Like, when I count it up, Ive definitely hunted plenty of animals and recently began killing a good chunk of undead, but they probably don’t fall under everyone’s ‘anyone’ category. I think it’s safe to say werewolves and cultists do though, so yeah. I have killed dudes before.

What kind of animal are you?

Well technically I can be basically whatever the heck i want, but I think you mean like, in a figurative way? Still though. Dude. I think it’s pretty obvious.

Name your worst habits.

I’m told I say things I shouldn’t a whole bunch. Like basically every day all the time. ‘Sparrow no you can’t say that, no Sparrow that’s inappropriate, Sparrow stop you’re offending them.’

*Sparrow sighes.*

What else… I get told I’m too loud. or wait, I don’t think that’s really a habit. Hmmm. Some people complain about how I eat? Manners or something dumb like that.

Do you look up to anyone at all?

Not that often. Apparently I’m pretty tall for a lady, so most of the time I’m looking down to people instead. I definitely had to look up to Gallows though, that dude’s hat scraped on door-frames sometimes.

Gay, straight, or bisexual?

Uh. Hmm.

*Sparrow counts on her fingers as she mouths a few words to herself. After several seconds, she quickly gives up .*

I don’t really know how this sort of thing works. Do amounts matter?

Do you go to school?

I’ve gone to a school once, when we visited Cylerra’s old one. But you mean like, going to school, like what she did. So no. I’ve never gone to school. And thinking about it… even if things had been different… I don’t think I ever would’ve had the chance anyways.

Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

*Sparrow freezes for several seconds, then laughs uncomfortably. She begins fiddling with her hair as an awkward silence fills the table.*

I’ve, uh. Never really… thought. About it. Before…

Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

Oh! Do kids pretending to be me count? Because if that does then yeah yes I do have fans. Man, those little pups were really sweet once the town finally unstuck themselves from their own asses and realized we weren't trying to ruin their lives.

What are you most afraid of?

Most afraid of? Hmmm. I guess... being unable to- to- Damn I don't know how to say this. Okay. Say someone I knew and liked was in trouble. Like, some really, really bad shit was going to happen to them and I’m seeing it as it happens. I'm afraid of when a time like that comes... and I can't even try to do something about it.

*Sparrow pauses.*

Wow. That was so serious I bet you wanted things like heights or dark spaces.

What do you usually wear?

I don't really got a signature outfit or nothing but you can bet you'll see me wearing this!

*Sparrow enthusiastically gestures to the wolf pelt slung around her shoulders.*

Do you love someone?

Well, I love my families. I love my friends and my pack and my. Parents. And I love my shitty teacher too, I guess. That's ab- Huh? What do you mean that's not what you mean? Oh. Oooooh. You mean like. How my Ma loved my Pa, and my Pa loved my Ma...

*Sparrow rubs her the back of her neck as she falls deep into her thoughts.*

... No. I don't really love anyone the way they love each other. And I'm not really sure if I ever will...

What class are you? (high class, middle class, low class)

I never cared about stuff like that. I never had to. I was the little girl of a hunter and a potion maker who lived in a house outside of town at the edge of the woods and we were the most happiest people in my whole wide world...

*Sparrow’s wistful stare is distant, and accompanied by a small smile. It lasts but a moment before her face turns sour and she shakes her head.*

Then I lived in the forest with a whole shit ton of wolves and a crappy old orc for a while. So. Low, I guess.

How many friends do you have?

I like to consider anyone who isn’t a jerk to be a friend. Life is a whole lot funner that way. But if I gotta name names... Kendra, I think. Zokar the tavern owner - damn I love that guy I kinda miss him. Grimsbarrow... Shit basically the entire town of Ravengro. That cool Crooked Kin circus we ran into. Barrister Kaple - hope he keeps growing that backbone we gave him. The Beast of Lepidstadt- Ah! See, I knew you were gonna give me a face like that. Nothing but the truth my man. Hmmmm. Oh! That badass at the lodge... Graydon! Graydon.

*Sparrow leans forward, hides her mouth with a hand and whispers.*

Now, I said I have a lot of friends, but I think Cylerra is my best friend. Don‘t tell anyone though it might hurt their feelings.

What are your thoughts on pie?

I like them. Especially fruit ones. Though Zokar’s meat pie was pretty good with some ale.

Favorite drink?

Oh, fuck. I don’t actually know... There’s so much good stuff out there and I’ve only had like a sliver of it.

What’s your favourite place?

Wow damn dude you keep asking all these hard questions. How can someone decide when there are so many places to choose from? ...Eh, I suppose I could say the woods I spent my whole ada- adu- ader- Sorry hold on.

*Sparrow swivels around and shouts Cylerra’s name at the top of her lungs. Cylerra yelps in surprise and the book she had been so patiently reading clatters to the floor.*

WHAT’S THE THING THAT’S NOT A BABY OR A KID, BUT ALSO NOT AN ADULT OR AN OLD PERSON?

*Cylerra glares at Sparrow, and begins to move one of her hands in an intricate fashion. Suddenly, small fiery letters appear out of thin air in front of Sparrow. As the word forms one letter at a time, it clearly spells ‘ADOLESCENT!’ But the moment the exclamation point appears, the entire array explodes with a loud pop and a large puff of smoke! Cylerra storms out of the room, as Sparrow is left with a soot-covered face.*

THANK YOU. So yeah I spent all of that thing in the same huge ass forest. I know that place in and out and up and down and basically any other direction you can think of.

Are you interested in someone?

Yeah I- Wait. Is this another one of those questions? Where I don’t understand it at first and it ends up being about sex or something? Yeah, I thought so. Looking for someone to fuck is not really on my mind considering the fact that I mmmmm-not going to tell you that because it would be dumb and get me thinking about it again and then get me worrying about it aga- MMMMMNH!

*Sparrow’s nostrils flare, and her face contorts into an expression of exasperation as she wipes the soot from it.*

Next question please.

What’s your bra cup size?

*Sparrow casually reaches into her shirt and gropes herself. After a squeeze or two, she removes her hand and shows it off.*

About that big.

Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

Oh oh oh I’ve never been to the ocean that’s the one with the salt in the water right? I really want to go! I want to see it for myself, hopefully I can drag my friends with me it sounds like a blast.

What’s your type?

*Sparrow’s face becomes stoic as her eyebrows raise.*

I think I know your game now, mister writer man. My type is people I like. Okay? Okay.

Any fetishes?

Huh? You mean those little charms you make that are suppose to ward off evil or whatever?

*Sparrow immediately drops her deadpan facade and taps a finger on her lips in thought.*

Nah, not anymore. The green geezer had me making them all the damn time when he first started teaching me. It didn’t even have anything to do with druidism he just wanted to waste my time. I wanted to run away so bad back then, but he kept finding me and dragging me home every time I tried. I guess I gave up after failing for like a year. I think that’s about when he starting teaching me for real.

Seme or uke? Top or bottom? Dominant or submissive?

I don’t even know what half of these things mean but I’m definitely not submissive, so dominant I guess.

Camping or indoors?

NATURE IS MY MIDDLE NAME OF COURSE I’LL ALWAYS PICK CAMPING also nature is not actually my middle name don’t write that down.

Are you wanting to quiz to end?

Yeah this took way longer than I thought you should really tell people that before you sit them down and vomit questions at them.

#vaffaznculocolmpadrter #dnd #druid #pathfinder #character meme #sparrow #vaffanconverses

[acoolguyscoollife]

Chapter 23: Tiki Trouble

Cool Guy

I watched as Rose jumped from tree to tree, practising her magic/energy stuff as she did so, happy to see how quickly she caught on. I’m sure a few hours ago she probably didn’t even know this was a possibility, and now here she was, skilled enough to catch herself if she came close to falling. It wasn’t much, sure, but it was definitely more than I could do. Her movements were shaky, but stable, where mine would just be shaky, and result in falling. It felt good to have another person I cared about so much be part of this new experience I had found, even if it now meant another person at risk of… whatever could happen, giant killer bugs or wild animals, or something. She jumped down in front of me, straightening herself up as she used a hand to wipe the sweat off her brow and brush her now-slightly untidy hair back behind her ears.

“Pretty good, huh?” Rose asked me, one side of her mouth turned upwards. “Turns out I remember more stuff I learned in PE than I thought.” She looked down at her hands, red palms from gripping the vines of the trees. It looked fairly painful, though if it was, she didn’t care. “So, what are we gonna do now? Hunt wildlife? Build a shack?” She raised an eyebrow suggestively. “A love shack, baby?” I outwardly groaned, remembering where I’d gotten my habit of making jokes involving song lyrics from.

“You need to be stopped from making jokes.” I said, staying on the rock I was sat on. We weren’t far from the clearing that we’d entered upon travelling to this world, and considering everyone ran off without even thinking about how we’d meet up, I had the feeling staying here would be a smart choice. This did however come with the caveat of having absolutely nothing to do. “You know, we could just relax for a bit. The group’s been on our feet for like… the better part of a few days, save for sleeping and eating. It’s really cool, but man, it’s tiring.” I admitted, and Rose sat down next to me, resting herself against me and putting her head on my shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess you didn’t really get a break when everyone else did, what with the whole… exercise thing.” She said playfully, causing me to forcefully exhale through my nose.

“Well, you’ve successfully managed to make me jealous of people who haven’t had sex, and I’m not sure whether that’s an achievement or not.” Rose hopped to her feet, holding my hand and attempting to pull me to my feet after I finished speaking, which I resisted.

“You can’t tell me you’re not excited though, can you?” She spun around, taking in everything around her. “I mean, come on, I’m full of energy just being here! Imagine all the cool shit we could find!” She came up close again, almost as if she was trying to use her mind to will me to my feet.

“I gotta say, I missed your particular brand of manic pixie dream girl, Rose.” I said, slowly standing up as she flipped me off.

“Hey, I’ve got depth like you wouldn’t believe. Any writer would be lucky to have me as their protagonist.” Rose said, in an alarming display of self-awareness. “In fact, you should write about me. Rose Kenton, the Slayer of Worlds.”

Tabitha

And now I see where the inspiration to write a chronicle of our lives came from.

Cool Guy

Hey, it was a fun idea.

“Okay maybe it would need some work to not feel dumb.” Rose admitted, and I just sighed, leading her back to the clearing. “Maybe something like Rose Kenton, the… I dunno, what would my descriptor be?” She asked me as I sat back down on another rock, meaning that overall nothing was achieved except for a change of scenery.

“How about Rose Kenton, the girl with a world-weary boyfriend?” I offered, but she was already lost in her own mind thinking of other things and didn’t acknowledge me, which gave me ample time to look around the area without worrying about her. The area was perfectly rounded, with two rocks parallel to each other and directly in the middle, which was definitely out of place in terms of what would have normally been found in a jungle. It looked more like an arena rather than a random clearing, but it was where we showed up. Despite knowing that the worlds we travelled to weren’t video games anymore, I still wondered what the context of an area like this would have been in a video game. An arena? A meeting point? Surely the others, who’d played the game, would have known more than I did, yet if it was anything noteworthy to them, they didn’t feel it was worth sharing with the less-knowledgeable people. God damn it, I was getting so bored out of my mind that I was seriously contemplating the purpose of a clear area and rocks. I was almost positive that I would have bashed my brains in with the exact rock that I was staring at, had Rose not let out a yell from my left. I immediately jumped up, almost relishing the chance to get to do something as I drew my sword, and quickly stopped as I realised what she was looking at. It was hard to say for certain what they were, but they were definitely small creatures, with wooden masks and spears. The stereotypical tiki people, I gathered from their looks, but then, they were definitely… odd. Some of them had spears, sure, but others wielded other weapons, like rocks, sticks, and a gun. That gun was definitely the one that stuck out like a sore thumb, as much dangerous as it was an anachronism. One of the tikis looked at another, babbling something in a language that I was unable to understand.

“Uhh… CG, I don’t really know how to function in a situation like this.” Rose said, mirroring my exact thoughts. “What are they?” She asked, glancing sideways towards me, not wanting to take her eyes off of them.

“I mean, they look like tiki people, right? Maybe that’s what they are.” I said, unsure of myself. One of the tikis looked at me and wiggled his head rapidly, causing jewellery on his mask to clink together.

“Yeah, okay, but you know that tiki culture isn’t really a jungle thing, right?” Rose said, still not taking her eyes off of them. “It’s a completely different thing… that I’ve forgotten entirely, but I know it’s not a jungle thing.”

“Right, well, don’t tell them that, because they look a little bit temperamental and I think the last thing we need is to be stabbed by pointy sticks.” I said, causing Rose to glance back at me again, as if she was about to say something, which was cut off by another yell from the tiki. This time, however, it was different, because I was actually able to understand it.

“Destroyer!” The main tiki said, pointing at me with a gnarled finger. “Destroyer enemy! Onbalow friend!” I went to say something, but then the words they used actually sunk in, and it hit me how odd it was.

“Well… shit me.” I said, more to myself than to anyone else. If nothing else, this race of creatures with strange weapons knowing about a fictional being from another dimension entirely was definitely weird. The tikis began to advance towards me, except for the gun one, who just aimed at me. “Wait, wait! I’m not the Destroyer! I’m friends with the Onbalow!” I yelled quickly, knowing that it was pretty much in vain. They definitely didn’t understand that much.

“Onbalow friend! Destroyer enemy!” The tikis yelled almost in unison, and I knew that if I didn’t do something soon, I’d be screwed.

“CG, what did you do to piss these guys off?” Rose asked, having stepped to the side as they continued to advance towards me, forcing me to begin taking steps backwards.

“For once in my life, I don’t know how I’ve made someone this angry!” I replied, still unsure whether or not I should try attacking or just continue to back away. “What do I do?” I asked desperately, even though if I continued to run, the only issue there would be that I was running away, not anything else.

“Uhh… put away your sword! Maybe that’s what they’re calling you the destroyer for!” Rose offered, and I listened to her, sheathing it and looking between the tikis in the hope that they would see it and react in some way. And react, they did.

“Haha! Scared Destroyer!” One of them yelled, clueing me in that it was definitely not the sword, and also hurting my dignity a little.

“What if they hate your leather jacket?” Rose said from the sidelines, and I sighed deeply, giving her a sideways glance as I took it off exasperatedly. Of all the things it wasn’t going to be, I had a feeling my jacket was high on the list.

“Alright then, I’ll just take everything off, maybe then they’ll piss off!” I said, before taking off my sunglasses, throwing them to the side, and beginning to take off my t-shirt. When I managed to pull my head through, throwing it behind me as I did so, I saw that the tikis had stopped advancing. Either I had confused them a lot by basically stripping half-naked, or Rose had been right somehow. The weapons began to lower, as one advanced a few steps further as if to take a look at me. There was a long, awkward silence, as I realised exactly how cold this jungle had been. The tiki at the front shook his head in the same way his friend had, causing all of them to do the same, making it sound as if I was in a very large man’s pocket with some loose change. Rose took this time to jog over to me, looking me up and down and then glancing at them.

“What’d you do?” She asked after a moment, looking at me again, as if I would magically have knowledge of what was going on in these little guys’ heads.

“Again, I have no idea. In fact, I’m starting to question a lot of stuff.” The tikis were still making noise, whooping and hollering as they seemed to inexplicably start partying in a show of very confusing happiness. “Why did they know about stuff from another game? And what were the chances that it’d be from a game that we’d already visited?” I made a mental note to ask Tabitha if there was some way that there could have been overlap from when we travelled here, flinching every so often as the tiki with the gun fired it into the air in celebration a few times.

“Do we really have the time to question that? You’re alive, so we should probably focus on that.” Rose bent over, grabbing my clothes and chucking them at me. “I have a feeling you’re probably safe to at least put a shirt on. As much as I like you, the glass cutters don’t really need to be on display right now.” I could feel myself blushing as I pulled my jacket back on, finishing with a flourish of my hand as I put my sunglasses back on.

��You saviour!” One of the tikis said to me, finally acknowledging me. “You come!” I glanced over to Rose, unsure if I should listen to the small man telling me to follow him.

“Well actually, I used to be, but-” I was able to get halfway through my dirty joke before Rose smacked me on the back of my head. “Okay, yeah, I’m coming.” A few moments passed as we begun walking, before I heard Rose giggle from behind me.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that today.”

Tabitha

While those two were flirting and having fun, I had set a jungle on fire.

#creative writing #A Cool Guy's Cool Life #cool guy #original fiction #story