#I’m starting to get into brain rot mode and I still need to finish the game

[mishwanders]

Am I having ideas for BG3 headcanons/fic ideas for a disabled Tav? Yes, yes I am.

#they’re floating around in my head #circulating #bg3 #I’m starting to get into brain rot mode and I still need to finish the game #mish rambles

[imreallyloveleee]

for @auroraworldtourftbughead who asked about my "road trip to ohio" fic: ok so this is a s5 au that i started writing back in Feb/Mar. it picks up a few weeks after they find Polly's body, ie at the point in the show where it became extremely clear that they were just dropping the arc they'd been building for Betty & Jughead and veering off in another nonsensical direction. i really want to finish this one and correct the sins of late s5, lol. (and i just miss jughead's family!) here is a snippet from the beginning of the story:

It’s just past eight in the evening. She’s dragging the trash bins from the garage out to the sidewalk for tomorrow morning’s pickup when she sees him standing in the driveway next door, struggling to wrestle an oversized duffle bag into the storage compartment of his motorcycle.

“Jug. Hey.” She’s already halfway across the yard between their houses by the time he notices her. His eyes soften from surprise to mild concern as she approaches.

“Hey. How are you holding up?”

Betty mulls for a moment over her response. It’s a fair question to ask someone three weeks after they found their sister’s body rotting in the trunk of a rusting, broken junkyard sedan. She doesn't especially want to answer; she's just tired of coming up with ways to change the subject.

Thankfully the scene she's stumbled upon makes it easy. She gestures to the bag. "Hanging in there. What’s this?”

Jughead sighs, giving the duffel bag another half-hearted shove, to no avail. “I’m heading to Ohio for JB’s graduation.”

Recognition flickers dimly in her memory. He’d mentioned this to her weeks ago, when they were deep in investigation mode, one of probably a thousand things he’d said that had filtered in and out of her brain like water through a sieve. She’d said something like oh, my god, she’s graduating already? we’re so old! in response, and then promptly returned to obsessing over their latest clue in the hunt for the highway killer.

“But I guess the gift I got her is too big for this stupid thing –” 

“You’re driving all the way to Ohio on a motorcycle?” she interrupts. “In the middle of the night? Isn’t that, like, a seven hour drive?”

He shifts his gaze away from her, towards the Andrews house, which she interprets as yes, I know this is a dumb fucking idea and no, I don’t want to talk about it. 

After the last few months she's had, she can relate.

“It’s tomorrow,” he says. “I was supposed to leave yesterday, but – I kind of got distracted, with everything that’s been going on.” 

Betty tries not to react to that. He must mean “everything” that’s been going on with Tabitha – her parents’ arrival in town, their burgeoning relationship. Kevin had seen them out at a restaurant together with the Tates, holding hands at the dinner table. Betty wishes they’d just make it public already, post a couple's photo on Instagram or something. It’s getting uncomfortable, pretending she doesn’t know.

He's muttering to himself, hoisting the duffel bag out of the storage compartment and onto his shoulder. "Maybe if I repack this into a backpack instead…"

“You can take my car, if you want,” she offers, and then, without allowing herself to actually consider what she’s proposing, adds, “Or…I could come with you.”

Jughead freezes, his eyes darting from her face to her car where it sits in the opposite driveway, and then back again. “Oh, no – I couldn’t ask –” 

“We could tag-team the driving. And I’d love to see JB and your dad, and…everyone.” She doesn’t actually know if Gladys is still in the picture or not. “To be honest, I – I really need to get out of this house for a few days.”

She knows how she sounds: desperate. But she also knows that if anyone in her life can come anywhere close to understanding what this is like – what it means to be the child of a parent who is a walking, weeping open wound, a gaping hole of need that cannot possibly be filled – it’s Jughead. 

(And she feels guilty for thinking of her grieving mother in those terms, she really does, but the truth is she’s suffocating. Put on your own oxygen mask first, Dr. Glass told her all those years ago. It was just about the only useful thing he'd imparted to her in a cumulative sixteen hours of therapy, other than a prescription for Adderall.) 

“At least take the car,” she insists. “You can’t even fit your stuff in here.”

Jughead’s lips press together. His eyes flit back towards the house again – only the garage light is on, which is where he’s been staying. “You’re sure you want to sit in a car with me for seven hours? I’ve got terrible taste in music.”

Her face breaks out into a tremulous smile. It feels weird, but good – the first uncontrolled display of emotion she’s had in weeks that wasn’t borne of despair. 

“I’m sure.” 

#bughead #bughead fic #fic #my fic #riverdale #riverdale fic #i have shared a few paragraphs from this before...a section that makes it clear jug is not actually dating tabitha lol

[figsandphiltatos]

get to know me

i was tagged by the amazing @johaerys-writes, thank you so much!!! 

Share your wallpaper: my phone background is really dope artwork of arthur morgan from red dead redemption 2. the art is sooo pretty and i’m sooo lazy so i haven’t changed it even though i haven’t played the game in months lmao. my desktop wallpaper is just,,, a black screen. which is really messed up, but it glitched out and deleted my old wallpaper (which i don’t even remember rip) and,,, ya know, the aforementioned laziness

The last song you listened to: Morbid Stuff by PUP

Currently Reading:  i just finished the v1 titans run of comics (1999-2003)!!!! i literally can’t recommend it more, it was so fun ough. but i’m currently in that phase after reading something really good where you can’t read anything else because of the misery of finishing a good read. it’s rough. honorable mentions go to the copy of the great gatsby that my coworker has been trying to make me read,,, (i’ve gotten through an entire one (1) page of it, sorry steve), and buy back the secrets, which is an incredible fanfic that everyone who likes timkon should go read immediately or i’ll kneecap your closest friends and relatives <3 (also also also in the family of things by @deadchannelradio which is so incredibly amazing and even tho i finished it a while ago i think it should still count for this because everyone should also read it immediately, the kneecapping threat still withstanding ofc)

Last Movie: Batman: Year One (with @darkravenstag, can you sense a pattern in the media i’ve been consuming jesus christ)

Craving: tattoo, tattoo, tattoo, tattoo, tattoo!!! (i’m broke)

What are you wearing right now: white soft sweatpants, my fluffy housecoat, and a shirt that says “i ❤️my gay cat” which was a birthday gift from @darkravenstag

How tall are you: last time i checked i was 5’4 but god knows if that’s changed by now (i doubt it), apparently that’s 162 ish centimeters 

Piercings: i have piercings in my ear that i got when i was like,,, four years old that are somehow still around god bless them. and i have a septum piercing. i really desperately want an industrial next

Tattoos: only one!!!!!!!!! it’s a neat little ouroboros but by god do i need more desperately

Glasses? Contacts?: nope, got that 20/20 vision, babey

Last drink: water (i honestly rarely drink anything but water)

Last show: i guess probably technically the mandalorian? it’s in the middle of its new season and @darkravenstag and i are watching it when it releases weekly :3

Last thing you ate: ice cream sandwiches,,, 

Favourite colour: i’m really bad at making decisions like this lmao. i don’t know myself well enough to know my own favorite color, if i’m tbhing. but a lot of different shades of blue are nice, and i like burnt orange and mustard yellow type vibes. green is also nice! so who knows

Current obsession: god i wish it weren’t obvious. to all the folks who started following me because of my greek myths stuff (and that includes you jo lmao) uhhhh sorry. greek myths were THE hyperfixation for like,,,, three or four years but dc comics is back in a big way. i simply cannot stop thinking about these little superhero guys,,,,

Unrelated Obsession: right now??? i’m not kidding when i say that dc comics has left me with literally no other computing space in my brain. like i’m at the stage of brain rot where having a conversation about something that isn’t dc related is a little bit hard,,,, it’s abysmal out here guys. but i’ll give a shout out to greek myths,,, when will my interest in the iliad and odyssey return from the war??? my brain basically works in two modes, which are dc comics nerd and pretentious classics obsessive, so eventually the classics hyperfixation will return but i couldn’t tell you when that’ll be 

Any pets: i have two cats!! their names are achilles and briseis and they are the worst little creechers but also god’s greatest gift to humanity (achilles is currently curled up in my lap purring his stupid little head off). they turn six this april!!! 

Do you have a crush on anyone: lol uhhh sure

Favourite fictional character: this is an incredibly mean question actually. you want me to pick a favorite son??? i am holding my hands over jason todd’s ears while whispering dick grayson,,, but also if we’re allowed to include ocs then rn everyone can get fucked because my baby wes is having a renaissance (in my head)

The last place you traveled: lmao the last place i traveled was back to my hometown (a small town in northern indiana) for the county fair this summer. the ice cream at the local ice cream stand is still the best in the country and i’ll die on that hill but yeah i’d kill to travel a bit more soon but probably won’t really travel until my sister’s wedding happens in georgia in october

tagging @darkravenstag @thrustin-timberlake @deadchannelradio @sarcasticbeanie and any other beloved mutuals (or followers!!) who wanna do this! it's fun, have fun!

#get to know me #tag games

[dancinginfreedom]

Today, I woke up feeling lethargic. My back and shoulder soring more than any other day that it did. But, I got up anyway. Went for my favorite mug in the kitchen, poured my usual morning hot karak into it. Rummaged through my plastic of groceries underneath my bed and found a pack of wafer to eat with my hot drink to welcome the morning. I reached for the book I’m reading these days, and just like that, I deliberately tried to start my day in a peaceful manner.

I was browsing instagram yesterday, and there was one particular reel that reminded me while clicking my loud keyboard at this very moment. It was about conventionally finding a reason to wake up each morning no matter how trivial it is. It was, in summary, finding your purpose each passing day. Today, it was freaking hard to do that especially with a back ache that screams “notice me, i need to be mended!”.

As I was slowly scanning my eyes through the words of the book in front of me telling “when you’re in an emotional state, empty your mind and take a break”, I unconsciously stopped and found myself staring blankly at the three-wick scented candle I lit at my bedside table while lying down on my stomach. Suddenly, everything felt so strange to me. Then, I knew, in that moment, I’ve never experienced this before….in a long while.

Afterwards, I just wanted to fall back to sleep even after having a full eight hours of sleep last night. I wanted to empty my mind and just give in to my desire of sleeping again despite not feeling sleepy. I was indeed in lethargy.

Yet, after that short peacefulness, my mind started to go full cycle at work again. I randomly wanted to write while my chaotic brain cells are somehow in sync with each other. I tried to save all these conceptual thoughts as much as I can that just kept flashing in a snap through my mind.

Just like that, in the rarity of all days, today was the day that my heart was at it again telling my brain “you’re still gonna achieve that dream to write your own book one day”. And unlike any other rare day, my brain agreed responding “I trust you, despite the chaos and messiness I bring to you every time you try to put all the floating thoughts in me altogether”.

I got out of bed, decided to take my shower to freshen up. And, here I am — typing a piece of my life story by sharing what my day looks like. Well, pretty much a day of choosing to first embrace my own emotional creases, without forcing myself to be positive nor to smile, bearing in mind the phrase “repressed emotions build up over time and would start to rot, blocking the way for all our feelings, even the positive ones”, from I’m Not Lazy, I’m on Energy Saving Mode.

It is better to release what you feel, deal with them head on than avoiding them by digging a hole to pile them up. Prevention is indeed better than cure. And when it comes to our emotional wellbeing, prevention might look like this:

“deal with me now, even recklessly is okay. it is better that way than not acting upon it at all”

Dealing with our emotions, fortunately, doesn’t need to be a grand gesture. It is making a space for a break — to feel and sit in with all that we feel. It is not even about understanding WHY nor figuring out WHERE they are coming from.

I do think that our emotions should not be left to harden and get swept to the side. Sometimes, just trying to understand our emotions AS THEY ARE without even knowing the answer, is THE ANSWER.

Stomach cramps just said “HI” to me while I’m trying to finish up this blogpost, unlocking the key why I’m feeling blue since last night and lethargic since this morning. Oh well, of course, I’m no exception to the hormones attack that every woman experiences whenever that period comes every month. And this makes me have the right to say…

ANSWERS do show up, from time to time, oddly most times, when we’re not even looking for them (ughh, but yeah, being a woman is so weird too, don’t you think? 🥺😬😅)

(this is the first ever post i’ve published on this platform after being on an unintentional hiatus for exactly a year and a half)

#life #self growth #selfreflections #self improvement #self love #self healing #self worth #emotions #anxienty #love yourself

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Summary: Javi hasn't called...again, Isa tries to distract herself making a new friend, but she doesn't know that her intentions are far from innocent and are tied to Javi crossing paths again with someone from his past.

Warning: cursing, mention of violence, threats, anxiety, kidnapping. Very hateful characters from the show 👀

A/N: I'M SO SORRY THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN POSTED ALMOST A MONTH AGO. I will try to finish this before this month ends. I think I could wrap this in one chapter more and an epilogue probably.

Just a small warning. This is a work of fiction and the intention is merely to develop a little bit more of a character I adore, Javi Peña. There's mention of the drug cartel, the violence they inflected in Latinoamérica (and as a Latina it hurts me very deeply, believe me) and the political involvement of different governments and agencies but this is not a political statement or trying to do other thing than entertain.

Chapter VII: Smart Choices

Isabel had never been a very popular girl, always the shy one in high school and she made a very small group of friends in college. But as everything in her life, there was a before and after since her life changed and she had Elvira.

She could not go to the club with her friends, their conversations about their new graduate’s struggles hurt her since she had to drop out, their heartbreaks and adventures had nothing to do with her life surrounded by diapers, feeding bottles and sleepless nights and so one day the phone stopped ringing, their friendship was limited to birthday parties and Christmas postcards while she became a mum and a wife. And thus making her world a very small universe with her child at the center and Javi and her turning around her.

So when that lady at the supermarket, Judy, called her she didn’t think anything weird out of it. Instead she was happy, excited to have another struggling mum that needed some comforting from somebody that understands her as much as she did.

“I’m sorry I took the liberty to ask for your phone number, I have a friend that goes to your mum’s salon and I ask her for it” she had said the first time she called.

Judy is a funny and very quick and intelligent woman. When they got their first coffee together, Isa barely asks any question, Judy fills the conversations so Isabel never has the chance to ask when she is meeting her kid or who gave her her phone number since she knows every client of her mother’s salon by heart and nobody mentioned her ever. But Judy keeps the conversation flowing, sharing her tragic story about leaving Colombia out of a very tough situation with a guy and creating a new life for her and her kid in the USA.

“It must have been so tough” Isa pounders

“Colombia back then was a bloodbath, you had to navigate the streets in survival mode, always looking behind your back and praying to come back home safe” Judy explains

“My husband worked in Colombia for a few years”

“Oh really? When?”

“80’s early 90’s"

“Well, he must have known. So sad! it is a very beautiful country...”Judy’s gaze is fixed far away as if she’s remembering something

“I guess it’s difficult to talk about it, my husband never shares much”

“Mm” she hums, she opens a golden lighter and gets the flame close to the cigarette on her red lips “What did he do there?”

“He worked at the Embassy” she’s not lying but she prefers not to specify, and now that’s past, the details are not really important

“Oh! and that’s what he’s doing in Mexico now?” she asks exhaling a white cloud of smoke making a perfect o with her lips

“Not exactly”

“He must be careful; I heard things are following the same path we suffered back in Colombia”

“Yes...he’s...smart, I’m sure he will be fine” Isa answers more to convince herself than her new friend

“I saw in the news the other day how a few civilians died during a clash between two fronting cartels and then the police. Very, very horrible images" she smacks her lips

"I haven't watched the news…" the knot in Isa's stomach grows tighter, Javi haven't called back even if he promised he would

"They kill anyone that is on their way, civilians, gringos too, DEA agents…" the Colombian woman casually brings the coffee cup to her lips when Isa frowns at her

"What did you say?" She asks

"They kill civilians?" Judy smiles uncomfortably the corner of her lips stretching up

"No, the last part"

"Gringos...DEA agents" she repeats

"Why did you say that?" The knot gets tighter restringing her throat and her question is just a whisper

"I… assume Javier must be…"

"I haven't told you what he does"

Judy gasps and bats her long black lashes a few times before changing her face to a complete cold expression, her glossy lips now a tight red line

"Look, Isabel, I think you are a very smart woman…" she starts

"I'm leaving"

Isabel pushes her chair back to go but the other woman's hand holds her to the table, her perfect manicure claws making her stay

"Sit, don't do anything stupid" Judy spats, the brief confrontation has alerted the waiters and they look at them intently until Judy gives them a very warm apologetic smile

"Who are you? What do you want?" Isabel tries to hold herself but her instincts is crying for her tu run, to get her baby back and look for Javier

But Javi could be anywhere

"You know your husband and I met, many years ago" she continues smoking "we worked closely in the hunt of Escobar" she smirks "I admit I was surprised to find him married and with a kid. He used to be involved with a very different type of woman"

"What do you want from Javi? If you hurt him I swear…" Isa mutters

"You must have been really special. A magical pussy" she laughs "or are you that dumb and naive that he lied to you and believed it" she crosses her arms over her chest, looking with a smug face from the white cloud of smoke "do you know what he did in Colombia? Do you know what he's capable of?"

"Where is he? If you touch him I swear to God I kill you" Isa tries to contain the tears, to seem strong but fails which makes Judy smile wider

"Oh! So you are an idiot little girl. Better keep up, cielo, if you want your husband alive"

México

A constant, something that keeps on proving itself to be right: shit does follow him. He tries the breathing techniques that the doctor showed him but the bag on his head stinks like rotten meat and the heat inside the van is unbearable. He finds a little solace feeling Steve's tigh pressed against his. Both of them rocking back and forth with each bump on the road

"Connie is going to kill me" his friend says

" If they don't kill us first"

"Callense cabrones" one shouts and Javi hears the muttering insult Steve pronounces before receiving one hit himself

He feels the vomit running up his throat, the smell, the heat and the fear have mixed themselves on his stomach and he can no longer calm himself down. He’s about to die, he knows it. About time, my friend, I elude death for so long in Colombia, so many close calls and now I’m about to die in some unknown part of Mexico because of a fucking middle age crisis I couldn’t handle.

He tries so hard to close his lips and swallow, breath, Peña, breath. The only cold thing in this van is the thin silver chain and medallion he wears around his neck.

This would be a marvellous moment to do some magic, old man Javi says to himself and that old saint around his neck. What did Isa call the old man engraved in it? Saint Jude. Okay, Jude, show yourself, please. This is actually a lost cause, it’s your field of expertise, c’mon

“Andando” the sicario pushes him out of the van before he can even process they have stopped the vehicle. The man grabs him by the arm harshly and guides him forward, the sun pierces the black bag over his head but he can’t only perceive the light and the sound of the gravel under his boots.

Suddenly the light changes to a white light and he feels the temperature lowering: a house with air conditioner and there’s a soft murmur of water but otherwise the house is silent. Javi memorizes those tiny details, it’s the only thing that could eventually help him if they’re held hostage and not killed right away.

The sicario pushes him and for a few milliseconds Javier thinks he’s about to fall hard to the ground but ends up on a chair. Then they pull both his arms to the back without any care and handcuffs him there.

Javi jumps from his seat when he hears the loud thump of the door closing, still in the dark and without any sign of company, he calls:

“Steve…”

Nothing

“Your friend is in the other room”

He could recognize that fucking voice anywhere, is engravated in his brain, in that part of his head that is capable of the worst, that tiny espace where he keeps every hateful and the worst people he has met, Bill Stechner being the number one on that list.

“I was so happy thinking you were dead and crawling back to hell” Javi sighs before he’s hit by the clarity in the room. He blinks fast until his eyes are adjusted to it again. It’s a nice room, wide and scattered by a few pieces of furniture covered by white sheets, the dust in the air makes evident it has been closed for a long time.

“So was I thinking you were rotting old in your father’s little ranch but here we are”

His beard is greyer and the already receding hairline is back a few inches, but he looks exactly the same, tha smug stupid face is looking at him from above. That smirk of “I’m always five steps ahead from you” the same he had when he made him leave the Embassy before catching Escobar and the same he had when he tried to take down Cali. But now he’s here in Mexico, what the fuck is he doing here?

“And, do tell, please, why the fuck do are path cross again?” Javier spats

“Oh! I didn’t want to cross paths with you. I must admit I found it funny when I saw who was managing the account for our textile export, but you, being the noisy stupid man that you are “ Stechner approaches him, his smirk freezes in a tight line “had to call your friends. And you see, you’re mending on my business again”

“So you switched from the CIA to the Narcos?”

“Javier, javier…” he sighs “You are always focusing in the wrong things and not in the bigger picture”

“The bigger picture being…” Javier rolls his eyes at him

“You wouldn’t understand, I tried a few times in Colombia and you ended up fucking it all up” he shakes his head

“So what do you want from me now?”

“Well now that you are here fucking everything up again I’d prefer if the repercussions go to the right direction”

“Which is it not yours, I guess, or whomever you’re working for”

“Yeah” he laughs and points at him “you’re smart when you want”

“And wouldn’t it be better to kill us right away?”

“Oh, you see, my associetes want to do it” Stechner nods “The really don’t give a fuck. But I told them that you could be of service”

“You’re really delusional if you think…”

Stechner interrupts him “And if you weren’t willing to cooperate we could always resort to the good old ways” the man walks to a nearby table, over the white sheet there’s a manila folder. Bill opens it slowly, that stupid smirk back at again on his face, relishing on the desperation and fear in Javi’s eyes.

Please, not Isa, please not my child

“Your wife made a new friend, it’s a small world after all, isn’t it?” Stechner shows him a picture, he recognises the cafe, Isa is seated talking to another woman he hasn’t seen in years.

“Judy is very nice when she wants” he takes out another picture, this time Isa is on the backyard playing with Elvi “You have a very beautiful family”

“If you touch them, motherfucker” Javi tries to get out of the chair, he doesn’t even care if the metal from the cuff cuts his wrists. He just want to do what he has wanted to do since he started working in Colombia and crossed paths with the CIA

“They won’t, it is entirely upon you that this is just a simple anecdote. I promised I’ll try to control them...if you do what you have to do” Stechner shrugs and throws the pictures to the floor where they rest in front of Javi’s feet

“What do you want?” he murmurs, his gaze is fixed on those images trying to see something, when were they taken? how does he know if they already hurt them?

Please, please he begs and his vision is starting to blurry

“Well, my associates will appreciate it if the DEA will center its efforts on our common enemy. You see it right? it’s the same story all over again; the enemy of my enemy is my friend…”

“I’m not DEA anymore”

“Are you? I mean you’re here with your dear Steve in an ongoing investigation that mainly relies on your testimony so…”

Stechner roams around Javier’s chair “It’s not like you haven’t done it before, Javi, think about it as if you are involving yourself with the lesser evil, there will be a time to capture my associates, but not now”

“Just go back home and when the time comes you can assure the DEA that those terrible horrible people that are getting that poison in our beautiful country are involved with our common enemy. What is the difference between one Cartel and the other? It just a matter of time they both get caught” he continues

“Why are you involved in this?”

“We’ve done this many times, Peña, let it go. It’s better this way or do you want to end up like Kiki? or better yet, your beautiful wife or your kid?” Bill points to the pictures of the Peña’s family “think about it”

And he thinks about it, the hate and the fear burning in his chest. So many years protecting himself in covers of solitude, brief encounters to relieve the stress and alcohol, protecting his heart from this fear and pain of getting his family killed for his job.

You did this to them, you looked for it. Now what?

Isa (Laredo)

She drives fast, fast as she has never driven before. She has always been a very responsible person and even more when she became a mother. Elvira is seated on the back, her little hands holding the seat hard and she has called her a few times, her voice shaky and scared.

“Mami, where are we going?”

“To Grandpa’s, honey”

“You’re too fast”

“I know, but we need to get there now”

The screeching sound of the tires stopping abruptly on the road has alerted Chucho who now waits with the porch lights on when they get out of the car.

“Mija, what’s wrong?” he screams

“I think Javi is in the danger”

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x ofc #Javier Peña fanfic #Narcos #Narcos Fanfic #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal characters #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Pena #Javier Pena fanfic #Javi Peña #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fic

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains Drabble #1

Plot: The Horror Villain in your lives S/O(Who you were also very close to) has just died, and you’re there to watch them crumple. 

Includes: Jason Voorhees, Mayor Buckman and Sheriff Hoyt 

Warnings: Angst 

Hah, I think these just get shorter and shorter, which is funny because this is not the order I wrote them in. 

~~~

Jason Voorhees:

Today, I’m going to visit Jason. Who I guess a normal person would my… brother-in-law? Stepbrother-in-law, because his girl was my stepsister. Not that that matters now, she died in a car crash 3 weeks ago. Which is why I’m checking on him, bearing a new tablecloth to lighten up his creepy little cabin and ginger ale. She said once that he liked that stuff, and the tablecloth was my idea. I didn’t know what else to bring him in this situation, since I only met him once! But I thought I should, bring something.

The time I met him was because she wanted someone to know about him, that she trusts. In case something bad happened. Which, evidently, it did. How she knew it would happen? Well, there’s an ongoing news segment dedicated to the investigation they distastefully opened the day of her funeral, when the coroner that checked her out mentioned a gang tattoo hidden on the top of her thigh. Jason doesn’t need to know that part though.

From what I gathered about him when she introduced us and I stuck around with them the day we met and what I remind myself of quickly in my head as I leave the Ford Fiesta I got for my 18th birthday 3 years ago, is that mostly he’s a delicate soul. At least, when it has to do with her, or his mother. Her name’s Pamela, but I hope that doesn’t come up because their relationship scares me and I don’t want much to do with it. I especially don’t want to bring her up to him. 

I start walking towards his cabin, recalling other things about him I could mention or just that I should remember. His favourite colour’s green, like oak leaves and definitely not moss. He drowned because some councillors who were supposed to be watching him were getting jiggy with it in the forest, and because of that he has an ingrained hatred and need to eradicate all premarital sex havers.

Pft, that’ll be fine then. My lame ass is still a virgin. Not that I’m bitter about it or that I’m going to mention that, at all.

Finally, I reach the Voorhees’ cabin, which is clearly what is seeing as I can smell the stench of Mum’s rotted head wafting from inside that still haunts my dreams from last time. I put down the bag with his new, green tablecloth, ginger ale and my Christmas cookies -because I need them to get eaten and its been a month and they’re still sitting in my cupboard, and this seemed like a good a time as any. Maybe Jason’ll appreciate the patters I painstakingly iced on them. He supposedly has the brain of a child,- on the ground and stan dup straighter, biting the inside of my lips.  

Taking a cautious step forward, wondering whether I should knock even though the door’s open, I call carefully. “Jason? Hey, it’s Y/N. (Your Stepsisters Name)’s, sister? We met, and I just wanted to check on you. She asked me to.”

When in doubt, make sure he knows who I am and my connection to her. She’s his soft spot.

No answer.

I shuffle to the side, seeing if I can get a glimpse inside the house and see if he’s actually in there, without overstepping and walking on in. “I brought ginger ale- “

Suddenly heavy footsteps come up behind me and stop close by. I whip around, and suddenly I feel like a fly in comparison to the giant that is Jason Voorhees. I soften my expression and pick up the bag, offering it to him. “Did you hear all that?”

He nods.

“Is it okay that I’m here?”

Again, he nods. I let my muscles relax, and go to sit down on the moulding, termite ravished porch. Before I start taking things out of the bag, I peer up at him, and make sure this is okay. “Is it okay that I sit here? I’ll get up if its not, its okay.”

No nod this time, I guess he got tired of it which is understandable- I would too if that was my only mode of communication. Instead, he walks over, movement weirdly purposeful, and sits down beside me. The wood moves worryingly under his weight, but stays sturdy thank god.

I flash him a kind smile, and start showing him what’s in the bag. Once I’m finished, I decide to cut straight to the chase, because he is not responding to any of this. Not even the snowman cookie awakened a reaction, and that one is freaken masterful. I turn to him, as he holds gently onto the ginger ale between his knees but doesn’t open it, and drop my forearms onto my knees. “So, Jason. Sweetheart, you gotta tell me o-or… Morse code to me, or whatever if you’re okay or not. Because that’s what I’m here for. For her, and therefore you are too. You get me?” I peer up at him, hoping he understands. Because I’m already getting emotional, and I don’t want to start crying again. I will, if we have to go through this painstakingly slowly.

Again, he doesn’t nod. But he does turn his head to look ahead of him and away from me, which I take as him understanding, but avoiding the conversation.

But hey! At least he isn’t walking off or stabbing me. Swallowing, and taking a deep breath, because we have to do this and theirs a tiny part of me that wants to for him and not for her, although the brunt of it is for her, I carry my pointer finger up and ever so gently pat the bottom of his mask. He turns slightly to look at me, and I look softly, empathetically at him. “I, for one, feel terrible.���

His shoulders relax the tiniest bit, so I go on. “I-I mean… I didn’t know her my whole life. Our parents got married when she was already 12. But I was 8, and she was my big sister after that. And, she was… the better one of us! Its true! I mean, you fell for her! And, from what I can tell you have trust issues. Rightly so, but still. She broke through that because she was so good. I can’t… “I let out a heavy breath, but not looking away because I’m brave. “Help, but think that… it should’ve been me, and not her. Okay?” Ohhh god. That sure doesn’t become easier the more times you say it… More a moment, I allow myself to pause. Worry my lip, look away. Then I push back my hair behind my ears and look back at hum, refreshed. Surprising me, when I look back, he’s looking at me. I whisper. “Is that how you feel?”

A moment of meaning passes, before slowly he nods. A more meaningful significant, and consequential then the other nods -other movements, -, simply because its slower. It feels like he’s seriously agreeing with me, like he’s saying ‘Yes, yes. That’s how I feel, I agree. You aren’t alone’.

Its honestly the most understood that I’ve felt since she died. Even her mother wouldn’t look up from the funeral pamphlet and I haven’t seen her since. But Jason, feels like me. Just another flavour, and another face.

Taking a deep breath, with tears filling my eyes now, I nod and take his hand. “Yeah… yeah. I’m sorry about that.”

“One day it’ll get better.”

Mayor Buckman:

I cross my arms and lean back on the house, watching the townspeople as the go about their day. One in particular, troubles me who I don’t let up my disappointed gaze on for minutes, as he bobs through town with an obnoxious smile on his face. All week, I’ve watched Buckman to make sure he’s okay after the funeral, and he’s failed every single test.

She entrusted me with his wellbeing and health, and I’m going to take it seriously. Because, although I don’t have as high a appreciation for his existence as she did due to him… well, trying to kill me and feed me to his crazy people, I acknowledge how he changed, for her. While she was here, the death toll in Pleasant Valley went down to all time low from the last century. Because, he had something to continue for, I guess.

But now he’s desperate to go, and although that makes sense, and I can accept it, even if it meant my last connection to her would be lost, he’s going too fast. He hasn’t even given himself time to mourn. She died, and he’s acting like she just left and he’s going to be seeing her real soon. Which, of course, may be true… But she died. Its going to tear him apart if he doesn’t sit down a second and stop grinning so crazy wide.

It’s a bit scary, actually. How full on he is right now.

As a couple new victims -teenagers, on spring break. Nothing new, - who’ve agreed to stay the night go to the room’s they’ll be staying in, our revered Mayor disappears into his home, uncharacteristically. Curious, I push off the wall and follow. “Buckman?”

“Oh,” Is the only response at first, which I take as ‘Please, come in!’, and do. It’s a very wonky ‘Oh’, coming out twisted around every which way, like you were feeling one way and tried to sound a different way. Chewing the inside my cheek, I creep across loud ass floorboards to the livingroom. There, he’s standing by the window with the blinds closed. He looks tired as hell, somehow. I don’t know how a ghost can look so exhausted, but he does. And it’s a weird thing to see on the usually vibrant southerner. “I was just looking for my good handkerchief, this one’s got the wrong pattern- doesn’t match.”

“Oh, stop it.” I walk on in and sit myself down on the couch, patting the spot beside me for him, bossily. “Why don’t you just mourn?”

He gives me a forced smile, not at all in it, and pointedly refuses to sit with me. Oh, boy. “One doesn’t mourn, when you know you’ll see them again soon.”

Okay, ignoring the fact that neither of us know exactly what happens after you really die and he could just disappear into nothingness rather then see her again because we don’t want to make him mad… Changing tact, I turn to him inquisitively. “Buckman, what are you gonna do when you see her again? What do you wanna do?”

“Ah, well, first I’ll intend to hug the stuffing out a’ her, but after that I believe it’s become a bit personal, and we don’t have that relationship my dear.”

“Okay.” Let’s move past that, because the last thing I want in my head is this man and my sisters bedroom activities. My face darkens determinedly, causing Buckman to squint suspiciously at what I’m about to throw at him. “Well, if you don’t sit down and be sad for more then the 2 seconds it takes for you to meaninglessly switch handkerchiefs, you won’t have the energy to do that. You’ll probably faint, if you can even do that in heaven or… wherever you’re going, and then there will be no hugging.” His face darkens, because he knows I’m right. I lean forward towards him, and reiterate. “No hugging. Zip!”

“Okay!” He raises his hands, begging me to stop causing a self-satisfied smile to come to my face. For a moment more, he thinks -I’m sure, - about leaving and avoiding this again like he has bene since she died, but catches my eye and that does it. He gives a defeated sigh, and sits down beside me. I change my expression to sympathetic, because I know how he feels. She was my sister. I loved her, too.

Awkwardly, I drop a couple pats on his back, as he sits doubled over with his face in his hands. Then even ore awkwardly, I cough into my shoulder. “Tea?”

“Ahhh, yes please.”

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt: 

I grip my spoon so tightly that my knuckles go completely white, but I let him go. Hoyt leaves the room, and the house, and I manage not to scream at him to come back and face me, because Luda Mae asked me to. That’s the only reason I didn’t throw the spoon at him.

… But, he’s crossed a line.

So, I push out of the seat and stomp past Thomas in his breakfast seat and Luda Mae pouring him water and out the door after him. “Oh, Charlie!!”

“Who the fuck- “He turns around, as he was heading for his car and his eyes land on me. Immediately they darken from being irritated, to mad and promptly, sticks up his middle finger at me. I grit my teeth, reach him and snatch it out of the air, throwing his hand back to his side. “What do you want, I’m a busy man.”

“You’re fucking unemployed, shut your trap.” I point with my thumb back into the house, and incredulously at him. “What the hell was that?? I haven’t seen a face like that on Luda Mae… e-ever. Ever. I have never seen her that hurt. What the fuck??”

The look Luda’s face appears in the forefront of my mind again, that appeared on her delicate features right after Hoyt told her to ‘shut the fuck up’. He has never used language like that at her before. God, her face. It was a horrible mix of shocked, and destroyed. She thought, we all thought, that if Hoyt still cared and respected anyone in this family then it was her. Evidently, we were wrong.   The fire in my eyes intensify, thinking about the flagrant disrespect. To her! Of all people! That sweet woman! Since I came here, with (Your Friend Who Was With Hoyt’s Name), she has been the kindest.

Hoyt, the least kind. So, I feel zero guilt in tearing him a new one out here.

Oh, you go ahead and flare those nostrils at me Hoyt, I’m not moving. “It’s a family matter, you can stick your nose out of it.”

“Oh,” I say, clutching my heart. “I’m wounded!” He doesn’t think I’ve heard that one before? Well, he’s more of a moron then I thought. “Bottom line, Hoyt, I haven’t seen you be that awful, since you fell in love with- “

“Don’t you dare say her name.” He warns, opening the car door and plopping himself in the front seat. He tries to slam the door shut, but I plant myself between him the door, and hold it open making him deeply sigh. Seeing I wasn’t about to leave, he promptly picks up his gun and a rag and starts cleaning it.

“The person you became with her is worth being. She would never forgive you if you crumpled now. I, would never forgive you.” I point to the house again. “She’s turning in her grave!!”

Hoyt scoffs, a cough of a laugh nearly, and continues to wipe his gun off- of what? I have no idea. He’s just cleaning his gun. Which looks perfectly clean to me. “Well she ain’t here, is she?” He looks up at me next, and the look in his eyes is cold, but not cold enough to force me to back down. “And I don’t remember us ever being friends.”

“Hah, we weren’t.” We will never be. “But guess what? I’m here and I’m here to stay. I won’t let you spiral into a crotchety mess, or even more of a disgusting mess then you’ve always been even with her. And I won’t exactly like it, but I’ll live with it. Because- “

“I don’t need any of your help, honey- “

“Because,” I continue, through grit teeth. His eyes flash at getting cut off, and of course, I revel in it. “I loved her too. I won’t let you become something she would hate. She loved you. Far be it me to understand why, but she did. You could see it in her face, and the way she talked to you. And it hurts so bad, imagining what she might be thinking, watching you now. If she could see you, if she’s seeing you, whatever your stance on religion, she would be heartbroken.”

He looks up, and this time squints at me. “You think I care what she would feel?”

At that little remark, I slam the door in his face, and lean close to the window. “Yes.”

#Horror Villains Drabble #Horror Villains #Horror Villains x Reader #Sheriff Hoyt #Sheriff Hoyt x Reader #Charlie Hewitt #Charlie Hewitt x Reader #Mayor Buckman #Mayor Buckman x Reader #Jason Voorhees x Reader #Jason Voorhees

[kastlenetwork]

Forgive me if you're getting this Ask twice-- I couldn't tell if it went through the first time. Thank you for agreeing to help me! I am a grad student working on a literacy learning project in which I need to immerse myself in a form of literacy that I do not have experience in. I am a reader of fanfiction and a huge fan of Kastle, so I decided that I would write my own Kastle fanfic. Would you and the Kastle community share with me what you as readers typically look for in a Kastle fanfic?

The first one did send through, but it’s totally okily dokily! I would also like to preface this by saying I was just sat here and I’d answered with this with an actually not horrific response and then my laptop died out of absolutely nowhere, :) without warning :) [which happens all the time, because my computer is dying in general, but still I’m miserable about the loss lololol anyway] – so, this one isn’t as well thought out.

I’m just gonna say that the main thing that I look for in Kastle fanfiction is close to canon characterization. We’re all different people with different eyes and ears and brains, so when we watch the show, obviously different things might stand out or feel more prominent in who they are, than other things to other people. So, I’m not bothered by different headcannons or anything like that. I mean, it’s fanfiction, that’s the point – I’m reading it to read that writers’ take and have a good time……or a bad time, depending on if the writer is trying to squeeze out hearts lolol. But, there’s a general base line for who the characters are that has to be met for me to really get attached to what I’m reading. I’m this way for any fanfiction for any couple, to be honest. But, it’s super prominent when dealing with Karen and Frank, for whatever reason. If they stray too far away – their characterization, their vibe, their dialogue – I start to slowly check out of what I’m reading. I might just flat out stop. And if they’re in a Different Scenario where one doesn’t want to focus too heavily on the heavy, how that’s adjusted to fit the more lighthearted piece.

I mean, take Frank for example. If I open a fic and he spends the entire thing absolutely miserable with no small bright spots, at all, that’s just as off-putting to me as him being some weird happy sunshine man. Because, Jon’s Frank Castle (and that’s all I can go on on Frank, at all, honestly. I’ve never read a TP or DD comic lol whoops) finds things amusing. I mean, he’s literally lying in a bed having a deal worked out for him to go to prison in Gen. Pop. and he’s making jokes about it. Karen’s screaming out at him that refusing to cooperate with her and his lawyers, so that they can help him, will do nothing but result in him failing to get answers to about his family and have him rotting in a cell. And his immediate response could be more misery and more doom and gloom, but instead he’s turned on impressed and amused by Karen’s outburst. He admires the blunt and fearless goddess before him the honesty and the blowup and he teases her choice of wording. He’s light in a moment where she literally just said the results of his actions might be that he never learns the truth and he’s taking delight in her explosion despite it. 

Yes, he’s angry. He’s violent. He’s depressed. But, sometimes he talks about his family and he’s smiling. He’s laughing. Does it more than likely melt back into his ever present grief? Absolutely. But, it doesn’t mean that show of levity isn’t there. And Karen’s character and characterization faces a similar path in the show, just in the flipped direction. The core of her is built around something traumatic and sorrowful, but her general demeanor is positive and determined. 

Frank is funny. Karen is funny. Frank is sad. Karen is sad. 

They’re feeling a lot of things at various times.

So, the main thing I look for in Kastle fic is the appropriate balance of that. If I feel like it’s too far off the mark, I more than likely won’t finish it. 

The second thing I look for ties directly into the main thing, which is simply the dialogue. How they talk to each other. Especially once it’s starts bleeding further into the actual romance aspect of the story and not just the build up. Frank’s not adverse to endearment – he’s obviously someone that cares EXTREMELY DEEPLY for those he loves. (To the detriment to the gangs of New York). And we’ve seen him call Leo “sweetie” and stuff, this sweet little girl that he gets a big soft spot for. But, we’ve also seen him talk about his wife on multiple occasions and give big romantic speeches about his wife, like when he and Karen were on a date sitting in the diner. He calls her “my old lady” and he says he would literally chop his arm off at the table if he could just have another moment with her and feel what he thinks Karen must feel for Matt (*coughs* k sure, Frank) and it’s all really depressing ‘cause he’s destroyed, but he and Karen are on their date wow what a date sitting there and he’s talking about love and it’s just such a good moment. 

He’s not gonna call Karen the things he called his wife, obviously, unless they’re general terms of endearment. But, I think it’s a good example of the way he talks. I look for as close to canon characterization on the way they speak. Like, if Frank starts calling Karen his “beloved” it’s suddenly not Frank anymore – it’s some guy who happens to be as hot, but there’s been a mind swap or something. If Karen’s calling Frank “sugar plum” I’m kind of scratching my head, because who’s that blonde lady that’s suddenly speaking, what’s going on?

And I think the final thing I look for is simply that Karen is given more agency in terms of the relationship they’ve got. Because, in TP1 and TP2, it’s very much Karen who’s standing there with her arms flung open going, “I want you to be in love with me, like I know you are! I see you pushing it away! I am in love with you! You are allowed to love and have a life! Have a life with me!!!!!” And then Frank basically trying to push her back to Matt for literally no reason. I think a part of this is just Frank himself in his constant sabotage mode, because that’s his entire life after his whole family was murdered. He’s on destruction path, even when he’s trying, in moments, to get out of it. But, I ALSO think part of it is just that they didn’t have Karen for the full season, either season, and, even before they knew Marvel Netflix was heading to the grave, the shows refused to appropriately connect and were instead taking the ’’’easier’’’ path. Because, it was made pretty clear that they’d put her in the whole show if they could, but only could get her for so much time, and they wrote for that time.

So, in fic, I look for Karen getting to have her feelings actually be on display, instead of just being there to bounce his feelings off of, because they didn’t have her for enough time in either season to go more deeper on her end, since she wasn’t actually their character. And for her to get to have more agency in what’s going down with all that wanting them to be in love stuff just feels crucial to me, at this point, seeing as Marvel refuses to just make my dreams come true and announce that they gave a shit about these shows and are bringing them into the fold with the same casts.

Other than those two things, which I consider to be fairly standard, and that one thing where it’s just my exhaustion with my girls always having to fix everything – I’m pretty open to anything in terms of actual story. (I’ll even read a pregnancy/baby fic if it’s well written – and I’m…adverse to fanfic about babies). I just want an appropriate balance of their individual traumas to the sass master’s that live inside them and appropriate dialogue to who they are as people.

(I’ve got a whole thing about what I look for in a fanfic in general, but it’s not specific to Karen and Frank – it’s just like….spaces and pacing, which doesn’t have much to do with this.)

\\\\

What do you all look for in Kastle fic?! Help @chaiteacookiesnglitter out and reblog this and put in your two cents about what you’re inherently looking for. :DDD

#kastle #kastleff #kastlenetwork #chaiteacookiesnglitter #ask #txt: chey

[omgilostmyshoe]

Sabriel Week 2019. Day Six: Neighbours/Roommates

Waiting for Superman

(title from the song by Daughtry)

Rating: T

Pairing: Sabriel

Wordcount:  2028

Tags and Warnings: Human AU, K9 Unit Officer Sam Winchester, Author Gabriel, Aromantic Gabriel, Tooth-rotting fluff.

@sabrielevents

What to do when you find a stranger in your hallway, trying to get to the neighbor that is no longer there? You can try giving some advice on the cheap hotels nearby or just ignore him. Sam, however, is the officer of the law and cannot just let the man vanish into the night. Especially, such a cute man. So, he might as well offer him to stay until morning... Or until death does them apart.

"Police, freeze! Hands where I can see them!" 

Sam reacts instinctively when he finds a stranger, trying to get into his neighbor's closed door.

The man in question freezes, following the commands, even though all Sam has is the dog on a leash. Which is actually quite a lot, considering that said dog is a trained police animal. 

"Turn around and identify yourself!" 

Again, the man complies instantly, his face changing from slightly concerned to surprised, when he sees the one who was giving out the orders. Sam knows that out of the uniform, without his badge or a gun, all of which are in the apartment, he can't really prove that he's a cop. 

But he stands his ground, just as the dog at his side also stared down a possible foe. 

"I'm Gabriel Novak. Just flew in, planned to crash in with my girlfriend, Ro. She lives there." The man still doesn't lower his arms, just points with one finger at the door he was fiddling with. "But it seems nobody is home..."

"She moved out. About a week ago. Said she's moving to Europe or something. And please, lower your arms... You can relax." 

The more Sam talks, the more Gabriel face falls. He's handsome, but visibly tired, the dust of the road and lightning of the hall accentuating the lines of his face. 

While wondering, what to do, Sam automatically pats the dog at his side, who relaxed as his owner does.

His neighbor was rather adventurous, her apartment always filled with new people, men and women alike. She loved to talk, but never would confess her own name. Her favorite subject of gossip though, when she managed to catch Sam, were her numerous lovers. 

Mostly it was in some odd hours of the night, when after the double shift or an emergency, Sam was returning after a dog walk. The woman would glide out of her apartment--her gait couldn't be described any other way--and just start talking. 

So this is how he knows, sort of, who the man before him is. 

He was one of her more or less steady flames, Gabe, as she called him. Author of some books or something, always on the move, always traveling. Which is why their meetings were very few and far in between, but so hot she could not help herself but to "keep him," as she put it. Except now he wanted something more permanent, settling in New York for at least a year, and in the last conversation, Ro was lamenting how, "Gabe was getting clingy". 

Apparently, her way of saying goodbye to clingy lovers was to move to the other side of the world without warning. Or anything. 

"So... What's his name?" 

Gabriel is the first to break the awkward silence, watching the dog at Sam's feet with a weak smile. 

"Dogmeat." Sam grits out, readying himself for a joke, that he heard plenty, but Gabriel surprises him. He only lightly laughs and nods, winking at the animal. 

"Good choice, and very good look alike. Though I certainly would like your version better if I could pet him." 

It seems surprises would never cease today, as Dogmeat does the maximum his ironclad training allows. He quietly whines and tugs at the leash lightly, indicating that he would very much like to be petted by Gabriel. With a cautious stare, Sam hesitates, looking from the German shepherd to Gabriel again.

"So, no problems with dogs?"

"Is loving them too much counts as a problem?" 

Sam chuckles and releases the dog, giving a freeing command. Dogmeat runs like a torpedo, paws scrambling on the slippery tile floor. 

His furry body collides with Gabriel legs and the dog whines and wags his tail happily as the man immediately starts petting him. 

Soon, Dogmeat is on the floor, all four legs up, his belly exposed for the expert rubs that Gabriel bestows, and Sam is left just to stare in amazement. 

Even though his dog's reactions are the perfect judge of character already he, after getting permission, still snaps a pic of Gabriel, focusing on his face. The man probably thinks it's for a cute moment with the dog--which it is, partially--but Sam also sends the pic to Jody, asking to run an urgent background check and attaches a name. 

In the meantime, Dogmeat having gotten plenty of belly rubs now stands and starts licking all over Gabriel's face, neck and even his hair. 

Sam just got to save the poor man, a quiet call of dog's name enough to stop the shower of slobbery affections, and Gabriel nods gratefully. 

He wisely doesn't speak before getting a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his face of the worst of the damage. 

"He likes you," Sam announces, perhaps a bit unnecessary, after the clear approval his dog shown this man. 

"Well, at least somebody does, that's good." 

He jokes, and smiles again, but Sam can see the exhaustion that weighs on him, and it's probably not all physical. Going to somebody you care about, expecting to find at least a place to rest and a friendly face, and finding only the closed door... That must be harsh. 

"You don't seem so bad to me either," Sam gives up, smirking, and finally this gets his a more genuine and energetic response. He likes as Gabriel's face morphs and he smirks in return, winking again, now to Sam, which is just as effective as it was on his dog. He can’t say he’s ready to drop on all fours before the man just yet, but it’s a pretty close call.  

"Which is why I'm gonna do you a favor." 

"Oh?" 

As Sam finally goes to unlock his door, Dogmeat glued to his side in the familiar formation, Gabriel tenses. Sam notices but does not comment, just gestures to the couple of suitcases, that are tucked in the corner of the hall. 

"You need a place to stay the night, at least. As an officer of the law, I can't in good conscience simply leave you out in the cold at,” He checks his watch, “4 am." He then opens the door and ushers the dog inside, who promptly lays down at her appointed spot, waiting for the wash and feeding. 

"So, you actually are a cop? Can I see the badge?" 

A curious tilt of the head cannot hide a guarded stare Gabriel levels him with. 

"Sure," that request is easy and actually sensible, making Sam like the man more and more, and with just a half a minute rummaging in the apartment, he shows off his credentials to Gabriel. Who hasn't moved much, though Sam noticed he and his suitcases had shifted a little closer to the exit, ready to bolt if needed with minimum casualties. 

Sam smiles approvingly, wishing every citizen would be as vigilant and careful with their life and health. Perhaps then he wouldn't need to work as much. 

On the other hand, that way, he might have not caught this late shift. 

He might not have met Gabriel. 

Who finally surrenders and rolls the suitcases in, while accessing Sam's home with a curious glance. 

Dogmeat wags his tail happily from his spot, watching two people interact, talk, and touch. 

It's just a random connection, as Sam helps Gabriel to shrug off the tangled coat. 

But as Gabriel lifts his amber eyes, hand not moving from Sam's bare forearms, sending a wave of goosebumps from the contact, he speaks, low and serious. 

"Thank you, Superman." 

"You're welcome... What?" 

And then Gabriel breaks out in a fit of giggles, breaking the moment and the contact, pointing at Sam's shirt, that does bear the symbol of the aforementioned superhero.

"You still haven't told me your name." 

Sam blushes, running a hand through his hair and huffing and embarrassed laugh himself. 

"Sorry. Sam Winchester. It's nice to meet you." 

They shake hands, and there it is again. 

Eye contact, catching, getting a lot longer than necessary, and Sam feels as his palm is enveloped in both of Gabriel's hands now, warm and dry. 

"It truly is." 

Sam turns in the bed, trying to escape the sun shining through the crack in the curtains. 

As soon as he settles back into the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows and blessed darkness however, there is a broad wet tongue on his face, licking him thoroughly. 

"Gabe, leave me alone. Day offff..." Sam mumbled, half asleep, hiding his face below his arms, shoving the loving attention away. Because really, he was promised a good rest tonight with as much sleep as he could handle. 

"Wow, now I feel really offended, you can't even tell the difference between us." 

Mocking remark sounds from the foot of the bed, definitely not from anywhere near his head, and Sam jumps up, eyes bleary, and trying to kick his brain into working mode.  

He relaxes, finding Gabriel, not on the bed, only standing near, a tray laden with dishes in his hands. 

The check of the bed reveals a bouncy Dogmeat, who's blinking happily at Sam. 

"Off the bed! Now!" 

The dog scatters off, properly shamed. For the moment, at least, until Gabe finds another way to sneak some treats to him or something. 

Gabriel stalks closer, settling a tray across Sam's knees above the blanket. It is barely able to fit all the mugs, plates and saucers stacked onto it, all filled with delicious foods, and two main dishes even covered with fancy metallic domes. 

"What's the occasion, Gabe? This seems like a lot." 

He knows the answer, but he just likes to hear it. So he asks. 

"Well, today

the day. It has been whole three years since we became roommates." Gabriel announces dramatically, even finishing off with a flashy shake of his hair, that got a lot longer, brown curls reaching his shoulders now.

"Seriously? Roommates? That's what you're going with?" 

It is hard to keep a straight face while Gabriel does his thing, pouting and staring imploringly. 

"Roommates with benefits?" Under Sam's raising his brows, unimpressed, and him fighting a smile, that probably got his face in a strange twitching grimace, Gabe gives up. 

"Okay, okay. Three years anniversary, my lovely boyfriend Superman. I'm happy you're still with me, and, as astounding that is, still love me." 

Sam ignores the pet name, that of course stuck--Dean laughed his ass off at that one--and pulls his boyfriend into a grateful kiss. 

After a tender and long moment they separate, barely, Gabe smiling softly. Sam though, he looks into the amber eyes deeply, not searching or waiting for anything. He is long made his peace with how they are. 

"Always. Happy anniversary." 

The next kiss is longer, lingering, Sam clutching onto Gabe's thin shirt to tug him closer. They stop only when the tray clangs alarmingly, and both giggle before moving everything around. 

Gabe slides under the blanket, cuddling to Sam's side and--dramatic as ever--reveals the first dish, lifting the dome covering.

The plate is practically drowning in maple syrup that drips from the impressive stack of fresh pancakes. 

"That's... very sweet," Mumbles Sam, eyeing the stack. 

"Indeed it is, which is exactly why I cooked it for myself. Yours is this one, my favorite health nut." 

And with a loud smooch to the cheek, Gabe lifts the dome from the second plate, this one with totally different contents. A bowl with oatmeal--egg, steamed vegetables, and a little cheese on top--front and center, its aroma and sight mouthwatering. It is surrounded by different kinds of toasts: avocado, more vegetables, fresh this time, mixed in with Sam's favorite Italian cheeses. 

"Thank you, Gabe... This is perfect." 

It really is, the tray filled with both of their favorite items, lovingly prepared and carefully arranged. Gabe waves off the gratitude, but his smile says it all. 

Before digging into the feast, Sam steals another thorough kiss from his boyfriend, deep and passionate. 

They even actually manage to eat before falling into bed to satisfy a different hunger and between more kisses, Sam whispers, again and again, 

"You are perfect. I love you." 

#sabrielweek2019 #my writing #Sabriel fic #fluff #so much fluff #Human AU #Aromantic Gabriel

[tirstyspngirl]

Demonic Overdose

Febuwhump Day 7: Poisoning

Fandom: Supernatural

TW: Non-consensual Drug Use

Word Count: 1255

Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, protective Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, demonic possession, non-consensual drug use

Dean stepped from the shadows once he heard the angry roar. Whoever the Demon was, they weren’t very smart. Dean had set several different devil’s traps around the warehouse. Some on the floor, some on the lower ceilings areas. This dumbass had walked into the first one. And it wasn’t even super well hidden.

As Dean stepped from out of his hiding spot, the demons’ head whipped around to face him. The demon grinned maliciously and Dean shivered. It was eerie seeing his normally kind and empathetic brother’s face with such a cold and viscous grin.

“Hey, Dean. I think I have something of yours. You want it back?”

“Get out of him you son of a bitch.”

“But why? I’m having so much fun. This meatsuit is impeccable. The muscles are nice and toned. I can reach the top shelf anywhere I go. I think I might stay.”

“No you won't, you dick.” Dean said as he pulled John’s journal up to read the exorcism.

“Oh! I almost forgot. One thing before you start.” Before Dean could even react, the demon pulled a small bottle from Sam’s jacket. He popped it open and dumped the entire bottle in his mouth.

“What was that?” Dean demanded

The only response he received was another malevolent smirk.

“Tell me!”

“Now why would I do that? It takes away all the fun.”

“You son of a bitch, I hope you rot in hell.” Dean growled. Dean spat out the exorcism as fast as he could without mangling the words. The second the black smoke finished pouring out of Sam’s mouth, Sam collapsed to the ground.

“Sammy!” Dean screamed as he ran towards his brother. “Hey, little brother. Are you with me?”

Sam gave no movement at Dean’s words. Dean shook him, but there was no response. He tried grinding his knuckles into Sam’s sternum and still received no response. Dean double checked that Sam still had a pulse and was relieved to feel one, weak as it was. Sam’s breathing was far too slow and shallow to be adequate. He turned Sam towards him until he laid on his side and stuck his fingers down Sam’s throat. Sam gagged but didn’t puke, so Dean tried again, slightly increasing the pressure at the back of Sam’s throat. Finally, Sam puked. Several half digested white pills came tumbling out with some stomach acid.

Dean realized then that he was out of his league. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed 911. The operator stayed on the line with him as he waited for the ambulance to arrive. The warehouse was on the outskirts of the city meaning it would take a little bit longer for them to arrive. Dean was thankful they weren’t out in the damn boonies.

Dean kept a hand pressed to his brother’s neck, trying not to panic as long as he still felt the thump of Sam’s heart. Finally, Dean heard sirens in the distance. He’d never been so thankful for that sound in his life. Usually they avoided those sirens like the plague, but today Dean was happy to hear them.

The medics came rushing in and quickly took control of the situation. Dean explained what had happened, sans demon of course, as they assessed him. Dean just watched as they placed a mask over Sam’s mouth and squeezed air into his lungs for him. They set up an IV and pushed some sort of medication that brought Sam to a little more awareness. As soon as Sam was semi-conscious, they loaded him onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. Dean followed behind in the Impala. He wanted to be in the back of the bus with Sam, but they were gonna need a quick escape from the hospital, so Baby needed to be there with them.

At the ER, the doctors asked Dean countless questions, many that Dean didn’t even know, like what Sam took and where he got the meds from. Of course he also had to fill out the insurance info. Dean tried to get them to release him, but the doctor insisted he be kept for observation. They needed to question Sam once he was awake more and determine whether or not a psych hold was in order.

Dean was permitted to sit with his brother once he’d been admitted and settled into his room. He didn’t relax until he saw Sam shifting and his eyes fluttered open. Dean felt a wave of relief pass over him and most of his tension melted away.

“Heya Sammy. How’re you feeling little brother?”

“Like I got run over by a truck.”

“I’m sure. The doc will probably be in soon. She wants to get your story. She wants to place you in a psych hold, so choose your words wisely. As soon as things settle for tonight we’ll break out, ok?”

Sam nodded in response and searched his brain for the best story that would sound believable and keep him off the hold. Dean was gonna struggle to get him out if he was locked up in the psych ward. Before he could settle on the best option, there was a knock at the door and a tall blonde woman in a white coat walked into the room.

Sam decided in that instant to go with what most possessions victims experienced, blackout. He explained to the doctor that he had absolutely no recollection of the past 2 nights and pleaded with her that he had absolutely no desire to off himself. Luckily she bought it enough to not impose a psych hold, but she did put in an order for a psychologist to visit in the morning before he could be released. Sam agreed to the terms, only because they planned on leaving during the night, but she didn’t need to know that. Dean prepped the car, moving as close as possible now that the parking lot was less empty and brought in extra clothes for Sam to change into.

They waited until the night nurse was doing his rounds. As soon as he finished checking on Sam, Dean helped him dress hastily and transferred him into a wheelchair. Sam fought against it, but Dean convinced him that it would work best if they could get out fast, and Sam was still a little unsteady on his feet. Dean peeked out the door and waited for the nurse to enter another patient’s room, and booked down the hall and into the elevator. As soon as Sam was safely loaded into the Impala, they flew out of the parking lot, and straight to the motel. Dean made Sam stay in the car as he quickly packed up the motel and they were on the road in less than 10 minutes.

“I’ll start looking for a case for us once we get to the next city.”

“No way Sammy. We’re taking a break dude.”

“What? No. I’m fine Dean.”

“Sam, stop. You literally almost died from overdose, dude. No way are we hunting for at least a week. You are gonna rest. If that means I have to chain you to the bed, then I will.”

Sam opened up his mouth to argue, but once glance at Dean’s face and he wisely chose to shut up. Sam was no match for a big brother in mother hen mode over a sick or injured little brother. Sam smiled at the thought. He didn’t know what he’d do without his protective big brother.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday7

[uta-no-knb]

FNAF 2 "Scariest Game Ever Made!" ~ (Akashi x Reader)

Part 2 of the Five Nights at Freddy's game. This time, the victim is...Akashi! Reason why will be explained at the end.

Note: Title is owned by Markiplier (all titles in the FNAF saga will be titles from his videos).

It was one of those rare moments in Akashi Seijuro's life; for once, he doesn't have to do any work in regards to his father's business. He walked into his room and sprawled out onto his bed. This was also a rare opportunity in his life; he was actually able to take a nap. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief as he started to slowly drift off into a slumber.

Yet, he couldn't help but get the feeling that this opportunity was to good to be true. Pushing that thought out of his mind, the red-head closed his eyes, slowly drifting off into a light slumber.

"Akashi!" You exclaimed, barging into your boyfriend's bedroom.

The red-head opened his eyes in shock, as he got up and sat normally on his bed.

....It was indeed to good to be true.

He looked up at you, his red eyes narrowing. "(Y/N). Was that really necessary?"

"I'm sorry Sei-chan. I just got excited and -"

"What if I had been changing?" he asked. A smirk appeared on his face as he saw your reaction; your face was bright red.

"N-not the point," you stuttered, turning your head away from him.

He chuckled. "What were you excited about, my empress?" he asked, motioning for you to come and sit next to him.

With a skip in your step, you plopped yourself down next to him. "Well, I want to play a game with you."

"You finally want to play Shogi?" he asked, excitement appearing in his voice.

"The day that happens, pigs will fly," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Then does this game involve your laptop?" he asked, as you nodded excitedly. He sighed. "What is this game?"

At this point, you had hopped off the bed and were sitting on the floor, booting up your laptop. "A horror game," you said with a smile.

"....Which is?"

"Five Nights at Freddy's. " you said with a huge grin on your face.

Akashi's eyes widened a bit in surprise (you didn't notice because you aren't observant on reading people's body language). "No," the emperor said, lying back down on his bed. "You interrupted my nap so I could play a silly game like that with you?"

"B-but Sei-chan," you whimpered, only to be silenced.

"I said no, (Y/N). If you want to play a game, it should be one that stimulates your brain, not rot it."

"It's a strategic game," you pouted, looking into his red eyes. "You need to have patience and-" You paused when you realized something; something that could be used to your advantage.

"It's okay, Sei-chan. We don't have to play," you started, closing your laptop. "I mean, I'll just call Lola to let her know that she won the bet."

"Bet?" he asked, sitting back up again. "What kind of mischief are you and your best friend up to now?"

"Nothing major....yet," you replied, with a sheepish grin on her face. "We made a bet to see whether or not you would play the game because you were scared."

"I'm not scared of anything, (Y/N)," he replied, getting on the floor with her and opening up her laptop once again.

"Everyone's scared of something."

"The only thing that I am scared of is losing you to someone else," he said, taking his eyes off the screen and looking into your (e/c) eyes.

You smiled and kissed his forehead as you headed towards the door to turn off the lights.

"....Why are we playing in the dark?"

"I want to see you get scared."

The red-head chuckled. "Silly (Y/N)," he said, wrapping his arms around you so you were sitting in front of him.

The start-up screen turned on, revealing Bonnie, Chica and Freddy in their creepy states.

"What in the world? (Y/N), what kind of game is this?"

"You'll see," you said as you got out of his lap and resumed your place next to him. "

"These things-is this the second game? Wouldn't it make sense for me to play the first?"

"The first is too easy for you, Seijuro. I wanted to give you a challenge." You paused for a brief moment as Akashi moved the mouse cursor over the new game button. "Would you like a brief summary before you start?"

"Enlighten me," he replied, looking at you.

"You are the new nighttime security guard at the new and improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Your job is to monitor cameras and make sure nothing goes wrong after-hours. The previous guard has complained about "conditions"; namely, the characters trying to get into The Office(he has since been moved to day-shift). So to make your job easier, you've been provided with your very own empty Freddy Fazbear head, which should fool the animatronic characters into leaving you alone if they should accidentally enter your office." (1)

"...This game sounds-"

"Regardless," you said, cutting off the emperor "You sure you want to play this game, Sei-chan?"

"(Y/N), I'm playing. I will show you that nothing, and I mean nothing scares me. After all, I'm-"

"I know, 'you're absolute'.

The red-head smiled and turned his attention to the computer. "I'm not afraid of any bear."

Sei-chan, you have no idea what's in store for you

Night 1 12 AM

"Uh, hello and welcome to your new summer job at the new and improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," the guy on the voice recording said.

"Who is that?"

"No one knows," you chuckled.

Uh, I'm here to talk you through some of the things you can expect to see during your first week here and to help you get started down this new and exciting career path. Uh, now, I want you to forget anything you may have heard about the old location, you know. Uh, some people still have a somewhat negative impression of the company. Uh... that old restaurant was kind of left to rot for quite a while, but I want to reassure you, Fazbear Entertainment is committed to family fun and above all, safety. They've spent a small fortune on these new animatronics, uh, facial recognition, advanced mobility, they even let them walk around during the day. Isn't that neat? But most importantly, they're all tied into some kind of criminal database, so they can detect a predator a mile away. Heck, we should be paying them to guard you. Uh, now that being said, no new system's without its... kinks. Uh... you're only the second guard to work at that location. Uh, the first guy finished his week, but complained about... conditions. Uh, we switched him over to the day shift."

"Complaints? Why would I want to work somewhere that has complaints-"

You face-palmed, as the voice continued.

So hey, lucky you, right? Uh mainly he expressed concern that certain characters seemed to move around at night, and even attempted to get into his office. Now, from what we know, that should be impossible. Uh, that restaurant should be the safest place on earth. So while our engineers don't really have an explanation for this, the working theory is that... the robots were never given a proper "night mode". So when it gets quiet, they think they're in the wrong room, so then they go try to find where the people are, and in this case, that's your office.

"Ok so the animatronics come to life?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"So our temporary solution is this: there's a music box over by the Prize Counter, and it's rigged to be wound up remotely. So just, every once in a while, switch over to the Prize Counter video feed and wind it up for a few seconds. It doesn't seem to affect all of the animatronics, but it does affect... one of them."

"Wait, so that music box can only be used for one of the creatures?"

"Seijuro. Shush and listen to the man!" you exclaimed.

"Uh, and as for the rest of them, we have an even easier solution. You see, there may be a minor glitch in the system, something about robots seeing you as an endoskeleton without his costume on, and wanting to stuff you in a suit, so hey, we've given you an empty Freddy Fazbear head, problem solved! You can put it on anytime, and leave it on for as long as you want. Eventually anything that wandered in, will wander back out. Uh, something else worth mentioning is kind of the modern design of the building. You may have noticed there are no doors for you to close, heh. But hey, you have a light! And even though your flashlight can run out of power, the building cannot. So, don't worry about the place going dark. Well, I think that's it. Uh, you should be golden. Uh, check the lights, put on the Freddy head if you need to, uh, keep the music box wound up, piece of cake. Have a good night, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The call ended and you knew that the game has begun. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night 1 3 AM

Akashi was currently looking through the cameras, eventually landing on the room where Bonnie, Chica and Freddy are.

"...(Y/N), did one of them move?" he asked.

"Yup. Now you have to go around and try to find him."

"How do you know it's a boy?" he asked, as he panned over to party room three, where Bonnie was currently "hiding"; being accompanied by a guitar.

"I have my ways," you said.

"Lola?

"Shut up and play," you exclaimed as he chuckled.

The red-head turned his attention back to the game and moved the mouse over Party Room 4, only to jump slightly.

"What the hell is that?"

You laughed as you looked to the screen; Bonnie had chosen to appear in the party room, very close to the camera.

"That's Bonnie!" you exclaimed. "Did she scare ya?"

"No," he said, turning his attention back towards the security cameras.

Night 1

5 a.m.

Akashi continued to search the different rooms, and that was when you noticed one of the other animatronics was now on the loose.

Should I tell him? you asked yourself. I feel like I should, since that's what a good girlfriend who has played this game before should do. BUUUUUT, I'm not like other girls, so I don't think I will.

Turning your attention back to the screen, you saw that Bonnie was currently hiding in the right air vent. However, Akashi kept looking back at the cameras, not noticing that one of the other animatronics was out.

"Okay, I think I'm safe from that bunny," he said, as he went to the Party Cave to wind up the music box.

The moment he took the mouse off of the security cameras....

"What the hell?!" Akashi yelled, as he shoved the laptop off of his legs and scrambled backwards. "What the hell was that?! What jumped out at me?!"

You on the other hand were too busy rolling on the floor, laughing.

"(Y/N)," he started. "What. Was. That?"

"That..that was Chica," you said in between laughs. "One of the other animatronics."

"I swear I checked all of the rooms-and they were all accounted for," he mumbled, watching the screen return to the main menu.

"I told you. You need to have patience with these games, not to mention a strategy-"

"How was I supposed to know there were all sorts of things I had to look out for?"

"...If you weren't so busy talking while the phone call was going on, you would've heard the suggestions," you deadpanned. You then noticed that he had clicked on the "Continue" button. "You're going to play again?"

"...I'm not letting some damn chicken beat me," he said.

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

Next Day

You woke up in the Akashi mansion; since your boyfriend had your laptop, and you value your laptop as if it were your child, you wouldn't leave without it. Yawning, you got out of the bed in the guest room and headed over to his room.

I hope he slept last night, you thought as you opened the door to his room.

The moment the door opened, you didn't see him; his bed was perfectly made. Thinking that he might've gone out already, you turned to leave, only to stop at the sound of a mouse clicking. Walking over to the side of the bed, you sighed.

"Sei-chan! Did you sleep?!"

"No time for sleep," he said, in a low voice as he gazed intensly at the screen in front of him. "Must. Defeat. Bon-Bon." (2)

Bon-Bon?  You said to yourself. He's sounding a lot like Markiplier.

With a sigh, you sat next to him. The one thing about your boyfriend that irked you a bit was that he was stubborn; the moment he has a goal in mind or his mind set to something, he will not stop until he beats it.

"Sei-chan. You need to sleep-"

"When the game is over, (Y/N)," he said, in an almost robotic tone.

With a sigh, you left the room and made a phone call.

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

(Ring! Ring)

"What's up slut!" a voice said from the other line.

You couldn't help but chuckle. Ever since you introduced her to a parody of the anime "Free!" called "50% Off", Lola would greet you with Thuggisa's catch phrase. (3.)

"Morning."

"Did you play?" She asked, her voice getting excited.

"We did. However," your voice trailed off, recalling what you had just walked in on a few minutes ago. "Seijuro didn't sleep at all last night. He-"

"I knew it! I win the bet!" she exclaimed. "Pay me-"

"Listen," you said, your voice getting serious. "He didn't sleep because he was playing the game all night."

There was a pause on the other line. "....Seriously?"

"Yup. I walked in on him this morning and he was still playing."

"What night is he on?"

".....would you believe me if I said he was still on night one?"

There was laughter on the other line. "Night one?! Priceless! That should be the easiest-"

"Apparently not for him. He-" You were cut off by a loud yell and the sound of glass breaking. "Gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow!" you said, hanging up and running back into the room.

"Sei-chan, what happened?" you asked frantically. You turned on the lights and the worried look on your face went away. You saw the red-head lying face down on his bed. "Sei?"

"I've been defeated," you heard him mumble as you walked closer to him. "I lost to a stupid bear."

You sat next to him and began to rub his back. "It's okay Seijuro," you said. "The second game is hard."

"There were too many things that I had to do! How are you supposed to do it?!"

"Patience is whats needed in these games-"

"There are more?" he asked, raising his head off of the bed.

You nodded. "Yup. The final game just came out a few weeks ago."

Akashi groaned. "Promise me we'll never play that game again, (Y/N)."

"...Don't be moody because you, the absolute Akashi lost-"

"...Never speak of this," he said, both of his red eyes narrowing.

You chuckled. "I won't," you said with a smile, as you bent down and quickly kissed his lips.

He looked at you with a smile. "Good. Now come join me."

You chuckled and you joined the red-head on the bed.

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

OMAKE

"Why are your scissors in my laptop screen?!" you exclaimed, looking at your boyfriend.

There, on your laptop, were your boyfriend's signature red scissors, sticking out of the screen.

".....Bon-Bon jumped at me and I threw it at him."

"You're buying me a new laptop," you said with a sigh. "Go to sleep."

As Akashi brought you into his embrace, you snuggled into his chest and closed your eyes.

I'm never bringing my laptop over here again.

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

Omake 2

A few hours later, you woke up once again and stretched. Looking over to your right, you expected to see your boyfriend sleeping next to you, only to find the bed empty. You then looked to the left. Akashi was sitting at his desk, doing work. A smile appeared on your lips as you went to lie down; however you paused and jolted back up. There was a screen in front of him and you heard the sound of clicking and rumbling.

"AKASHI SEIJURO! GET OFF OF THAT GAME!"

Incorrect Quote of the Scenario

Hanamiya: You're Furihata Kouki, correct? Furihata: Y-yes! What is it? Hanamiya: You should play Five Nights at Freddy's! I've heard it's really fun! It doesn't have jumpscares, extremely dimly lit rooms, or even animatronic dolls! Furihata: R-really? O-okay...

~Via @incorrectknb​

~~~~~~~ FOOTNOTES

(1) Info taken from the "Five Nights at Freddy's" Wiki Page

(2) "Bon-Bon" was said by Markiplier

(3) "50% Off/Thuggisa" ~ Octopimp

#akashi seijuro #akashi...no #knb #knb scenario #kuroko no basuke #fnaf 2 #markiplier #kuroko no basket

[ratralsis]

Well, I’ve been true to my word and continued playing through the Shantae series. On Sunday, I marathoned Risky’s Revenge for several hours, though not consecutively. Which I guess means that it wasn’t marathoned. So I really just played it.

This was, I think, the third day I’d played it. I used a guide as I went and finished the game with all 34 collectible items. Somehow, I even made it in three hours and fifty-six minutes. This means I got the “best” of the four possible endings, which requires that you finish in under four hours with all of the items. I squeaked in with only a few minutes to spare! I thought that was extremely funny, but I may be the only one.

I liked the idea of the unlocked hero mode a lot, which gives you more magic power for using items and causes you to take more damage. Obviously, I like the “bonus magic” more than the “extra damage,” but it wouldn’t be right to just get nothing but bonuses. I guess. I’ll be mentioning this again later.

I don’t know if I’ll ever go back and try to get any of the other three endings. The ending where you have all of the items and take over four hours would be, you know, pretty easy, of course. I’d need to start over again to get the other two, though, which require that I finish in under two hours without every item, and over two hours without every item.

Now, the only difference between the four endings is which of four images you get to see after the credits. Strangely, the “speedy and greedy” ending, the one I got, which sounds like it would be the best one, gets you a picture of Rottytops, a zombie girl who barely shows up and has very little character development. In the first game, she meets Shantae and agrees to help unlock a dungeon for her if Shantae can beat her in a race. If Shantae loses, Rottytops gets to eat Shantae’s brain. If you do lose, Rottytops just tells you that you can try again, so there are actually no stakes. It’s just keep trying until you win. Rottytops unlocks the dungeon by removing one of her legs just above the knee and ramming the exposed bone into a hole of the dungeon’s front wall, which causes the door to open up. She reattaches her leg and appears to be fine after that.

In Risky’s Revenge, she really only shows up fairly early on to help point Shantae to a dungeon, and then at the end to express remorse for having helped the villain off-screen when nobody was really paying attention. She’s not exactly a major character. So I’m confused about why she’s the ending image you get for clearing the game quickly and completely. I’m also not exactly a big fan of the sexy zombie girl anyway, you know? It’s weird. Even assuming she isn’t actually rotting, despite the green skin and stitches and ability to pull herself apart at the seams (to be fair, she only does that in the first game, so maybe it’s a character trait that was dropped later), it still makes me uncomfortable when a zombie is sexualized. Maybe that’s just my problem! And you can’t call me a bad person for my prejudices on this one!

Anyway, after finishing Risky’s Revenge, it was time to jump back into Pirate’s Curse, the third game and the one I was actually farthest in when I decided to start the whole series over to feel like I’m doing it right.

Last night I made it to the final island, with all but one item collected. I left the last item so that I could see both endings. Unlike Shantae and Risky’s Revenge, Pirate’s Curse has two different final bosses based on whether or not you’ve gotten all of the Dark Magic scattered around the different islands. In Risky’s Revenge, Risky Boots, the villain from the first game, uses a magic lamp to suck the genie powers out of Shantae and turn them into an evil genie that Shantae has to fight. This has the unforeseen consequence of scattering Shantae’s magic around a bunch of different islands, since Shantae can’t just, like, beat magic up until it is destroyed completely; she is apparently limited to beating magic up until it explodes and naturally gravitates to Risky Boots’ inhuman minions, the Tinkerbats. It’s just good science. This leaves Shantae with no genie powers, though she can still use some other types of magic, I guess.

By beating up those specific Tinkerbats and collecting the magic up in that same lamp from before, you can get a better ending. This is the canon ending used for the fourth game, Half-Genie Hero, in which Shantae has her genie powers again. I haven’t seen either ending of Pirate’s Curse yet, but, I mean, it’s not super hard to figure out what they have to be based on what I’ve already said.

But anyway, Pirate’s Curse is a lot of fun. It’s also much easier in many ways than the first two games, which is fine with my stupid ass. The gameplay is a lot faster, since Shantae no longer has to stop and dance and transform to use her unlocked powers. You just get new button commands that you use while running around.

There are also references going all the way back to the first game, which is fun for me. Like the three “gamers” you meet in the Village of Lost Souls, who are the three different opponents you can face in the gecko races of the first game. Apparently they died at some point!

For reasons that aren’t entirely clear (reasons are given, but I don’t find them satisfying), Risky Boots has lost a bunch of her own pirate gear and turns to Shantae for assistance. As Shantae finds the items, Risky Boots refuses to take them, and just lets Shantae use them to solve puzzles and fight monsters. Which is certainly useful, but I do think Risky Boots would be more qualified to do these adventures herself. Maybe I’m wrong, though. Maybe Risky Boots knows that Shantae has superior natural athleticism and core strength. You know, from all the belly dancing and hair whipping. She’s got to have, just, insanely powerful abs. Also, Shantae can buy things at the local store, and Risky Boots probably wouldn’t be allowed to after all the times she’s tried to destroy the town. It’s just not convenient.

But one thing that’s annoying as hell is that they didn’t redo all of Shantae’s sprites. Just some of them. And they don’t match. So when Shantae fires Risky Boots’ pistol, she wears a bandana and has a belt on one pant leg for some reason. But then, as soon as the firing animation ends, the bandana and belt vanish. This happens whenever she uses most of the pirate items. It just looks really sloppy to me. I don’t think it happens when she uses the downward stab with the scimitar, but with that one, her ponytail suddenly goes from pointing up to pointing down, and that looks sloppy, too..

They also added a little jacket to her character portrait, and redid some of her sprites to show it more clearly. Some of her sprites in Risky’s Revenge had the jacket (when she spins around when warping, getting a new dance, or finishing a level) and some didn’t (climbing a rope), but none of her character portraits did. In Pirate’s Curse, they were at least more consistent about that one. They also changed her pants for the character portraits, making them tighter and opaque instead of baggy and translucent, but her sprites still show the old pants.

I don’t know. That kind of thing really gets under my skin. I don’t care which design they go with. I just wanted some consistency. Maybe the game had a smaller budget than I thought, but I didn’t think it was a low budget title.

I mean, I guess I do care about the designs. I wouldn’t have spent so much time talking about Rottytops the sexy zombie if I didn’t. And you can try to tell me she’s just supposed to be cute, not sexy, but considering that she’s clearly got nothing under that torn up t-shirt, and that a human version of her is straining the buttons on her top, I’d say somebody on the art team was trying to make her sexy. And I guess that’s… fine. I’m not going to say they shouldn’t do that. But I am glad that Half-Genie Hero went with a simpler design for everybody that dials things further towards cute than sexy.

I don’t have a problem with sexy. I just have a problem with mixing cute and sexy. Kittens and bunnies are cute, but I don’t want to see sexy kittens or sexy bunnies. And yet, I do, all the time. It’s just a personal preference, I guess.

I guess I’ll probably get both endings to Pirate’s Curse tonight and move on to Half-Genie Hero tomorrow. Then I might go back and replay any one of them. Well, not the first one. It’s definitely the worst of the four so far. I have to assume there’ll be a fifth game in 2018 or 2019, just based on the pattern of Pirate’s Curse coming out two years after Risky’s Revenge and Half-Genie Hero coming out two years after that. But then, Half-Genie Hero took three years to develop, and I’m not aware of a fifth game in development right now. Doesn’t mean it isn’t happening, just that I’m not aware of it. Anyway, my point is, there probably will be a fifth game someday, and I have to stay open to the possibility that it will be the worst one. Like how Sonic the Hedgehog games suddenly started getting worse. It happens!

I should end this post before I go back and edit it even further. I kind of want to–it seems like I’m fixating an awful lot on Rottytops by mentioning her twice like this–but I’ll leave it like this.

#edited because i originally wrote it as rotty tops instead of rottytops #ratralsis plays #rpshantae #long post #text post

[3kw3dogs]

Home Building Observations

Here we are, years in the making, and we’re actually doing it. Not too far away at all from being able to live in it. I guess really we could live in it now, but I’d really prefer for the insulation to be done first, at the least. Once building started, it’s been a total whirlwind. It feels like we’ve been working on plumbing and electrical for ages, and really it’s only been 2.5 weeks. Holy. Cow. No time at all, and we’re really on the finishing touches at this point.

I wanted to document everything, absolutely every piece of the process. And I think I’ve done alright at that so far. But it’s definitely a balancing act. And sometimes, I’m in total work mode, and don’t even think to pull my phone out of my pocket, much less take pictures or videos of things.

So while I’m thinking about it, I will try to sum up some of the things I’m thinking about, albeit in words and not pictures.

Holden had some quote gems this weekend, which seems a good place to start. 1: “Building a house is like having too many Chrome tabs open at a time." I cannot even begin to explain how true this is. My brain is constantly running through lists of... something. What’s left to do, where’s did I leave that one piece I need, which outlets are tested and good, which wires did I need to tack, what did I need at the store this time, what’s the thing I’m missing..... And on, and on and on. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken out of a dead sleep and noted something on my phone, or sent a quick text to Holden to remember and deal with in the morning. We have talked through “next steps” countless times at this point. Always refining the list, making sure we don’t miss anything. It’s not like we can’t go back and do it, if we do miss something. But it’s just so much easier to get everything done in/through the walls before the insulation goes in. 

Thankfully, with most of the larger things done at this point, I’m able to close the tabs such as “what did code say about this particular outlet, how do I need to set this vent stack to be correct”, etc.

2: “I wish I didn’t know so much about houses.” Kind of in line with the first one, I can’t look at a wall now without knowing what’s behind it. Thinking, “huh, why did they do it that way”, or trying to trace the wires. We have an outlet in our unfinished apartment now that’s wiggly and a little sideways, and I laugh at it every single time. Even the pro’s don’t always get them perfectly centered and tight sometimes, I guess. It so happens to be the outlet I plug my laptop in to work, so I start every day thinking about electrical these days.

We marvel at the way things used to be set up, in the houses we grew up in. Cast iron plumbing, for example. In many cases, it eventually rots out, and well, tons of leaking water. Meanwhile, we used PEX for our house. Which lasts, pretty much forever. The fittings can fail, but it’s rare that the PEX itself ever does. It also has some flexibility, can expand and contract, and doesn’t freeze as easily. I think I’m blurring the line now between #1 and #2....

3:  "I've never been simultaneously so close to owning a home mortgage-free and being homeless before." This one... well, it speaks for itself. Renting an unfinished apartment, that is really a drywalled half of a garage is... well, exhausting. We’re so, so close to making the dream a reality and getting done enough to move in. And I have that to look forward to, so being here is a little less exhausting these days. But, still, I anxiously await the day that we actually move our stuff and sleep in OUR house. 

But on the flip side of that, OUR house. Not the bank’s house. OURS. This certainly wasn’t our first plan. Or our second, third, or fourth plans! HA! But, here we are, buy supplies, add them to the budget. Re-calculate. And so on. For sure a construction loan would be more stressful in a lot of ways. And a mortgage would be too. Since we’re building with money we’ve saved though, it really frees us up for lots of things in the future. I have dreams of never, ever needing a loan for anything ever again. Need a new car? Cash. Want an ATV (snow plowing, trail making on our land, etc)? Cash. Build a deck? Cash. I mean, we can always loan against the equity we have. Which, thanks to lumber prices, we have a TON of equity in the house right off the bat. But also, we don’t HAVE to. We can turn the bank down if we don’t like their terms, not the other way around. Financial freedom. I’m looking forward to that.

[expensivechimchim]

Seesaw Chapter 11

"Hey!" Looks like the guards finally spotted me. Anxiety bubbles up in my stomach as I continue sprinting across the parking lot, the concrete making the bottoms of my feet sore. The guards practically drop everything to run after me. It's like a chase of cat and mouse, except for the fact that they are way slower than me. "This should be easy," I think to myself. After running through the parking lot for some time, the guards use their walkie-talkies to call for backup. Knowing that there was no way they wouldn't catch me in such a small area with backup, I make my way to the road connecting to the parking lot and jog my way down it. Glancing behind me, I look towards the brush in which Yoongi and Jimin are supposed to be hiding only to see them gone. It seems as though they must've found a chance to get inside the building. Since I'm jogging in order to conserve at least some energy, the guards and their backup slowly gain some speed on me. I decide that this is a good time to speed up and lose them. In the meantime, I rush past quite a few infected that reach out and claw at me, but I dodge them all just in time. Looking back up ahead, I spot a grey mini van that had been crashed into a tree at one point. I suppose this would be a good chance to hide from them since that was part of the plan as well. So, running to the side of the road where the car is located, I open the luckily unlocked door and climb inside, curling up into a ball in order to not be seen. Poking my head up from in between my knees, I peer out the window to see the entire group of people who were chasing after me run by the car in a blur of confusion. // I suppose that the adrenaline of the situation may have made me forget about rule number one of using cars during the apocalypse: always check the back seat. That was mistake number one. While I was hiding, the odd amount of silence in the car gave me a feeling of unease. My instincts seem to be correct because about ten minutes into hiding, my hair is suddenly grabbed by a grey, rotting hand. Looking towards the backseat where the random hand was coming from, I can see that it is (obviously) attached to an infected that is trapped under a suitcase. It can only reach me enough to grasp onto my hair. I don't even get a chance to panic before my head hits the back of the seat, knocking me unconscious. This type of thing seems to happen to me a lot, huh? Mistake number two was the fact that I picked a car with the window slightly open. // Opening my eyes, I wince at the pain in my head. It takes just under a minute for me to finally see clearly. "How long was I out?" A series of low growls snaps me out of my thoughts, bringing my attention to the pain in my head, making me remember that there's still a dead person latched onto my hair. I then turn around and grab it's clingy palms, ripping them away from my head as I crush the infected's head with my fist. I externally cringe at the different substances that end up staining my knuckles. Now that I had gotten rid of one of the problems, I turn my attention to where the other snarls are coming from. The window. I can't even count the amount of arms that are sticking through the slightly open window nor can I count the amount of corpses that are surrounding the mini van. I can't even see outside the car, the large abundance of infected covering every square inch of all windows. Panic settles into my system; even if I'm immune to the virus, that doesn't mean I can't get eaten alive. And to be completely honest, I don't want to be gutted alive. Tears well up into my eyes as I settle into complete panic attack mode. My body shakes and I almost lose control of myself. My face turns bright red and I start crying fully, not caring if all of the corpses surrounding me can see it. The only clear thoughts in my head being; Is Namjoon saved? Will my death be in vain? Is this actually the end? Will I ever see Yoongi again? //Yoongi's POV// I watch silently behind the bush with Jimin as (Y/N) distracts the enemy from us, running down the parking lot with the security guards following close behind. This whole thing still has me worried since she's taking a role that could potentially put her life in danger. A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead from nervousness just thinking about it. I'm trying to stay hopeful, since being so pessimistic could make me forget about the mission at hand. Once the area is cleared of people, Jimin and I move out, staying low, crawling towards the main entrance. Since their base happens to be a mall, the sliding doors make our entrance much quieter and unnoticed. The inside is that of a typical mall, not quite fancy, yet insanely large. Jimin taps my shoulder, bringing my attention to him and signals to one of the smaller clothing shops in the mall, Forever 21 or some shit, that's being guarded by a man and a woman. "I'll take the man," I say. "You take the woman." Jimin nods, huffing out a low breath through his nose. The two of us sneak up behind both guards and wack them in the heads with the butts of our guns, knocking them out. I send a cheeky smile towards Jimin as if to say, "Good job, Hyung!" // After searching the store left and right, we search around three other shops containing random Knick-knacks. Still though, there was nothing. After finishing up in another store we almost start the lose hope, that is, until we come across a small, closed down convenience store at the far end of the mall. The gates, having been pulled down recently, are pulled back up by Jimin and I. Then, we walk into the small, dark shop. It was silent, too silent. Our footsteps echo behind us as we walk and soon enough, we find a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Shrugging my shoulders, I pull on the chain hanging from it, making the light illuminate a small part of the room. What I see next haunts me. The beaten, abused body of one of my best friends, Kim Namjoon lay on the floor in front of us. His body is hog tied and he has a bruised lip as well as a black eye. Anger fills me to the brim as I sprint towards him, kneel down and place his head on my lap, gently untying his arms and legs. Jimin sits next to me, "Hyung," he says. I ignore him. "Hyung, this makes me angry too, but we need to get him out of here and find (Y/N)! Then we can tend to his wounds." He's right. We need to get out of here before they come back and find us. I don't even want to think about what they'll do to us as well if they were to find us. So, sighing we both stand up and I lift Namjoon into my arms bridal style. On the way back, Jimin and I take turns carrying his heavy weight as we rush out of the mall and into the parking lot. Sweat drips down my glistening forehead, my pale face practically beet red from the overwork of running whilst carrying a 150 pound man. A while later we slow down to a run, huffing and puffing. The two of us don't dare say a word, though the silence is slightly comforting as we both know that we have now finally gotten our friend back. After stopping and handing Namjoon over to Jimin, we continue our trek to find (Y/N). (Y/N). God I hope she's okay. The sky above is painted a soft peachy pink indicating that night is soon to come. The bright orange sun descends lower in the horizon. Knowing this only makes me feel more nervous since the corpses seem to be more active at night. "We need to find (Y/N), and fast!" I whisper harshly as Jimin. "Eung," he says back. The both of us start running again and in due time we come across a grey mini van that's surrounded by the dead. They're all crawling atop the car in a claustrophobic manner, covering our view of the inside of the car. "We have to save whoever is in there before it's too late," I say in my thoughts. Jimin, still holding an unconscious Namjoon, appears to know what I'm thinking when he starts yelling in order to gain the attention of the zombies. What the actual fuck is he doing? He then runs, with Namjoon, to the other side of the road, making the idiotic shit-for-brains follow him, moaning and groaning. I take this as my chance to sprint towards the mini van and peer inside the window and what  I see next breaks me. "(Y/N)!" I shout, absolutely petrified. She turns her head sharply in my direction and stares at me with wide eyes, mouth dangling open in shock. I open the car door and gather her in my arms, tears streaming down my face like a flowing river. She says nothing, still in awe over god knows what. She looks as if she's in pain as she squints her eyes and clamps her mouth shut. I kiss her forehead as she buries her head in my neck, crying softly. "Um I'd hate to ruin your moment, but I'm kinda struggling over here," Jimin says, matter of factly, bringing my attention to him."Can we get going?" He dodges another one of the undead as it claws at him. I turn back to (Y/N), "Can you stand?" She nods, gulping around nothing and stands up on shaky legs. I hold her up, both my hands attached to her waist as my eyes travel to her arm. She's bitten again.

[jess-oh]

Reflection

well i royally screwed up today,

work went well and i was able to keep up with all of jon and jeremy’s requests as well as fix/work on some client work and kept my cool. i also figured out how much money i need, made a plan to pay off my credit card so that my credit score will increase, and bought my plane ticket for grace’s wedding in september! i also notified andrew and david that i would be in town during that time. im really looking forward to spending time with them again. i also journaled a bit, posted all the entries i had made on my phone, and got my life in order. i made a plan for what i needed to do and felt pretty confident on what to do once i got home. i didnt follow through at all. i did actually make onigirazu for lunch tomorrow so at least i did that! im so excited to see it tomorrow :D I just need to remember to cut it in half and then put it in a container! I’ll probably switch the onion container out for a plastic one and do a double dishes tomorrow morning. I wouldn’t want them getting squished in my bag! Worst case scenario, I still have that cylindrical container from ox bone soup. I’m pretty sure my bagels went bad today so that’s not fun. And while I am sad that I’m wasting food, there’s definitely a learning curve here! At least I managed to overestimate instead of underestimate like normal. I’m getting a much better idea regarding how much I need to buy in groceries and how often I should go! I didn’t need to buy two things of cheese during my most recent trip but I did need more avocadoes! Although, I probably could’ve done without it. But again, there’s definitely a learning curve and I think I’m starting to better understand it and learn to support myself! I’m glad.

After I heard about Chelsea’s molestation story, I felt a lot better about coming to terms with my own experience and sharing it instead of taking it to my grave like I had originally intended. And I don’t think Chelea or Jason would judge me too harshly if I did come forward with that or confes my recent sins but there is still a part of me that fears it. That just feels so much shame. Even Andrew who casually sees girls putting themselves out there on the daily, I don’t feel comfortable telling him because I think it would change his perception of me and I also think that’s just very dangerous territory where one thing could lead to another and we end up hooking up or something. And I’m sure that is not at all likely but I would rather not even take the chance. Before, I would just look at myself in selfie mode, then I started to take a few more pictures, and today, I took a lot of pictures and didn’t even bother deleting them until way later. I went out of my way to take provocative images and look up what guys enjoy. I opened the window and took a cold shower so that my nipples would show through my shirt and tried to figure out which angle made my boobs look the best and made my nipples seem the most prominent. I tried to cover my boobs with nothing but leggings so that most of my boob was exposed except for the nipples and tried to sit in various provocative poses to see which was the most appealing. I put my stilettos on again and feared that Michaela would hear me and wonder what I’m doing. I think different pictures with one boob exposed or both, with my legs up and heels on, contorted positions to obtain optimal “sexiness” and so on and so on. The bottom line is I did pretty well at fighting my inner demons for the majority of today and made active efforts to stop thinking about that. But the moment I looked up boudoir photography, I just kept digging deeper and deeper and deeper. I do think I’m a lot more comfortable with my body now which is good. I think before, I would immediately freak out if I saw that the window in the shower was open. But now, I’ll open it myself to let the hot hear escape from the restroom and not really care as much if someone sees me. Of course, if I found out someone was a peeping tom or taking pictures of me through my window, I would feel insecure and cautious but as of right now, if a couple people happen to glance over by accident, that’s fine. Whatever. Take a look while you can, boys, haha. And I do think it’s partly because I have seen myself in positions or at certain angles where I did see myself as attractive and not ugly. When I first started this venture, I hated looking at my face in the mirror. Now, I think it adds an innocent/cute aspect to my rather revealing photos. I have no intention of posting them publicly online, much less even keeping them in my phone.

I do feel some shame because I know it’s taboo and looked down upon in the church and is a lot more of a worldly concept. But I do genuinely feel a lot better about my body now and I’m glad. I don’t think it’s right to be ashamed of it. It’s the body that I was given and I want to be proud of it. That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to start putting out all the time now but it does mean that when I get married, I won’t be afraid to have sex or provide him with the best pleasurable sex that I can offer for us both. I do want to be okay with sharing it and whenever any one of my friends sent me a notification, I felt a tinge of guilt. But I just kept going anyway. In the back of my mind, I kept saying to myself that it’s my choice and I can stop whenever I want to and yet, I kept going. Sigh. I couldn’t stop. I needed to keep going. I just had to. I was doing well for a bit when I decided to delete everything before I finished examining each image but fell victim once more once I got into the piercing nipple through my shirt shot. I even went so far as to angle my light in a certain direction so that my nipples would be the most visible. It definitely would have worked better if I had a thin white shirt to work with but it got the job done I think. At least now I know what will happen if my shirt gets wet and I’m not wearing a bra. I hope it doesn’t turn David and Andrew on although it probably would just because of biology. But I don’t think either would “go for me” because they respect our friendship and I do really value that about them both.

But, I am pretty frustrated and disappointed in myself because today was going to be the start of a great series. I was going to get back in the Word and read the Bible and do my QT and paint my rocks and practice the VBS moves daily but instead, I chose to rot my brain while watching “Friends” in an attempt to sleep and once I realized that I couldn’t, I just kept going anyway. And the rest of the time was filled with me taking sultry images of myself. I could’ve done so much more and worked on my relationship with God some more but instead, I just acted selfishly and without self control. I do hope I can do better today but it’s not like this is out of my hands. I just need to make the conscious decision and effort to be more serious and do better. I guess I need to re-evaluate my reasoning especially. I’m not doing things so that I’ll look good in front of others but instead because I genuinely want to give all the thanks and glory to God and serve Him in any way that I can. I want to be more intentional and taking those photographs did get in the way of that today. I need to step up my game and straighten my act! Thank you for listening, Lord.

Thank you!

Amen.

#reflection

[ixurian]

REMNANTS OF A THRONE

Large beads of sweat roll down Dagger Ixur's face. His breathing labored, he was outnumbered as the group of assassins closed in on him without a sliver of mercy. Why would they? His family never did. Their blasters pointed at him with dead-on precision, he was finally cornered to no chance of survival after four years on the run. Untrained and subjected to the cunning schemes of those responsible for his fall from royalty, Dagger educated himself on the laws of primal survival and all that it entailed on the streets. From 'spoiled' prince to fugitive with a staggering price hanging over his head, his descent was grand but his rise into being Dagger Ixur was nothing less than impressive. If only his captors hadn't underestimated him, they might have collected the money for his capture, or death. He could practically hear Eriadne's insidious laughter ringing in his ears as she held onto his head, severed from the rest of his body. Confidence grew among the bounty hunters, greedy for the ridiculous amount of credits promised as reward. As soon as they had him sprawled on the ground, Dagger played the waiting game as one of them hunted for the cuffs to ensure his stay in their custody. The one holding him down, forcing him to breathe dirt and dust into his lungs, protested in annoyance for his companion's lack of efficiency. “What? Did you bring your makeup too? Fetch those damned cuffs already!” The angry rant went on and on until the other had finally managed to retrieve the shackles and hand them over. And still, Dagger waited. Click. One wrist left to bind. Absolute relief poured over Dagger from the one with his knee (and most of his damn weight) crushing his spine. The metal slid around the remaining free wrist, but the click never came. In a move of boldness, or reckless stupidity (depending on the perspective), the fallen prince wheels his body, swiping the bounty hunter's blaster. The surprise painted on the collective faces of the small group of greedy bastards, who were only in the business for the profit, amused him. But Dagger Ixur wasn't born of amusement. Driven by cold, unmitigated vengeance, he rose to unleash all he knew of. Pain and death. Assuming the blaster's settings had been switched from stun to kill, he aimed the weapon with impressive skill and speed to his first target —the one that had made eat dirt. Literally. And shot. The unceremonious tumble of a lifeless body to the ground, drawn by gravity's pull, rammed home the meaning of his name in his native language. Dagger Ixur, a dark blade through the heart. Mayhem brought chaos, and together they rose from the sands in literal geysers as the remaining assassins rained down blasts on him after the death of their accomplice. Four years, Dagger would have been already lying dead in a pool of his own blood after the stunt he just pulled. Back then, he lacked the ability of recognizing the telltale signs of the peril he was walking into and the vultures that lurked in eager expectancy of consuming his rotting flesh. Today, he bore the scars of hard lessons that had brought him to the brink of death on multiple occasions. Courtesy of his dear grandmother and Tadara of Andaria, Eriadne eton Anatole, after deeming him as a criminal for crimes he didn't commit. High treason. Murder. Attempted murder. Assault. Theft. Kidnapping. Terrorism. Cyber crimes. Arson. The bitch did it only as another of her valuable lessons. That no one crossed the Tadara without ending up dead. —Duly noted. For the whole of his miserable life, he had been a pawn in Eriadne's hands. One slip had him disowned, exiled and marked as Outcast. For all of that, he'd been on the run since his warrant had been issued. Rolling his now athletic body, a drastic contradiction to his overweight body from a time he wished he'd forget, over the grains of sand, a cloud of dust emerges in camouflage against the nonstop rain of blasts meant to kill him. As he moved to be lying on his back in full offensive mode, both hands gripping his blaster, he shot the other two who shouted angry expletives at him. In the midst of madness, he found the time to appreciate old paranoias and gaming addictions. Dagger could only attribute his impeccable aim to that and the valid fears of being shot in the back by one of his cousins. Apprehensively, he rose to his height whilst scanning the surrounding area. He was sure there had been four after him. Assuming the last one ran for his life in the face of Dagger Ixur's merciless death, he slapped his legs, arms and chest to make himself more presentable before heading to his initial destination. The filthy hole they call a bar where most criminals and pariahs seek asylum for limited time to escape the blistering suns of Steradore. He could practically feel the relief found in darkness of the dimly lit establishment when he felt the stinging bite of metal on his side. Cursing his inability to learn from past mistakes, he drew his blaster from the inside of his coat to shoot the bastard who had escaped him earlier. Fire erupted from his wound into his veins. “Minsid hell.” Closing his fingers around the poisoned knife, he pulled it out of his flesh slowly to avoid quicker infection of the poison. Not that it would matter. The stench of the poison told him all he needed to know. He'd be dead soon enough. Staggering his way to the dead bounty hunter, he brought his boot to the body paralyzed by the stillness of death to roll it over and verify he wouldn't get back up again and finish the job. “Eriadne won't be pleased to know I died and she didn't get my head.” Misplaced laughter left his lips in his continuous vexing of his grandmother as he dragged his feet into the bar by sheer will only. With fingers pressed against the bleeding wound, he walked toward the table in the farthest corner before sitting down with a grimace of agony. He knew it was imperative to demonstrate no weakness or else he'd be dead sooner than expected. The parasites crawling the bar would be ruthless in their attack were they to find out how badly wounded he was. Especially if they learned the price on his head. Hell, if he had half a brain, he'd turn himself in for all those credits. Panting, he tugged his coat to cover the blood seeping into the t-shirt that had seen better days and less holes before drowning in the seas of stoicism to conceal the pain under a mask of boredom as the waitress approached him. “You got thirty cronas, slag? You can't stay otherwise.” The smugness exuding from her smirk would have been wiped out in another times if he ever were to venture into this place as the heir of the two largest fortunes in the Nine Worlds. On this day, he was only the heir of shit. With a condemning sneer, he tossed the coins at her. With the creds in her possession, his gaze wandered as he asked for the one drink known to be forbidden in most planets for the dangers of its consumption. “Tondarion Fire.” In a forsaken place like this, he knew the only kind he'd drink would be bottom shelf shit. Garbage. After confirming the authenticity of his money, she left him with his thoughts and fetch his drink. From behind red-tinted glasses that sat over the bridge of his nose, Dagger concealed the slapping truth of his genetic code and the ill fate the union of his progenitors marked him for. A hybrid, he was both human and Andarion. And he was neither. The humans curled their lips over his abnormal height, claws and the red rimming his eerie hazel brownish-green eyes. Andarions prouded themselves of their beauty, strength and warrior race. To be ruled by a half Andarion/half human reject was frowned upon amidst their society. And his grandmother had never been shy to deal that hand and trap him to the point of yielding beneath her iron fist. Hissing, he prayed for a quick death as he bled out. And at the rate he bled, he wouldn't hurt much longer. Perhaps the gods would finally grant him the peace he sought for all his wretched life. His thoughts took a drastic turn as he pulled his link out of his coat to study the picture where the undeniable love his parents felt for each other was imprinted upon. And it slapped him until he was bleeding. Why couldn't they love him too? He wondered what scalded him more, the flames of that fire darkening his soul. The venom pumping through his body at an alarming tempo or the loneliness that clawed at his heart with mocking laughter. No one gave a single shit he was dying. Haunted by that truth, he slid the link back into his pocket. Drawn to the commotion to his left, his fingers flew to his blaster out of habit in expectation of it being more assassins or enforces looking for him. When it turned out to be just two humans and an alien dragging in a weeping kid in chains, Dagger let out a breath of relief. Assuming it was just a prisoner being transferred, he started to revert back into his sorrows and near death when the kid gave fight to those holding him. He seemed to be around the age of fifteen. The alien brought his large hand to the kid's face in a move of brutal intimidation. The resounding slap carried unwanted memories from his own 'happy' childhood as tiziran. “Don't bruise the merchandise, asshole!” The human with money in his hands snarled angrily. “He won't be worth this amount of credits I'm paying you if he's somehow injured.” Flinching at the cruelty of the slaver who was looking for quick profit over a child's innocence, Dagger was already on his feet. He refused to stand on the sidelines while a child was robbed of his childhood like he had. The boy was supposed to be at home, surrounded by friends and family. Not in the hands on a greedy slaver. Besides, he was already dead anyway. Best to go down fighting the good fight than to die in the corner of a bar, drinking the shit version of Tondarion Fire. His thoughts consisted mostly of his own selfish fears in the past and how they had paralyzed him to the point of bending him to others' will. Back then, he had convinced himself that had been his only option of survival. Moron. All it had gotten him was a premature death in a backwoods planet. Alone. Probably lying, face down, in a pool of his own blood. And his, still warm, corpse raided for whatever values he possessed. A few creds, his signet ring and weapons. Pulling his coat back to reveal the glistening of the sleek metal from his blaster, Dagger ensured everyone that he wasn't in the mood for verbal exchanges. The cold killer, Dagger Ixur had been reborn as he faced his defeat and fall in a cracked mirror of an abandoned building on his lonesome, sober for the first time in years. What a piece of shit he was. Today, as he inserted himself in a transaction that didn't concern him, he hated himself for knowing his old self, the chemically-numbed Jullien eton Anatole, would have stepped away without a second thought given. Thankfully, he had buried that version of him four years ago. And today, he would live up to no one's expectations but his own. “Let the kid go.” A few pairs of eyes trained on him, some more amused than others. The one buying the kid snorted and dismissed him. But the one selling the kid turned to him with a sickening smile. “And what do we have here? You're a fancy one, aren't you?” The sound of stupefaction that clashed with rolling tension made him question the human's sanity. “Really? Because of what? The shower I took last week?” Smelling like a rotten corpse already, he was bloody and sweaty. The opposite of fancy. Even he couldn't help but being disgusted by his own stench, a true offense to his regal upbringing. “Shoot him already, Eben.” He demanded with an eye-roll meant to judge the weight of sarcasm drenching Dagger's words. The man had barely raised his arm to level his blaster when Dagger shot him, driven by quick reflexes and a shit-ton of hours spent gaming in his youthful years. A blast that landed right between the human's eyes with frightening aim. Once again, Dagger found himself in the midst of an outlaw showdown. Screams and angry bellows left those who either ran in fear of being caught in the middle of an exchange of shots or those who strived for the appropriation of his weapons. As if that would ever happen as long as he has life coursing through his veins. Twirling to escape incoming blasts, his arm stretched to shoot the other three who promised no mercy in their approach to him. Muscles, honed by experience gained during his years of running from the authorities, acted swiftly in the physical exchange of defensive moves as he danced between those attacking him with the recurring offense that returned to bite them all with vengeful interest. When the alien made another move to neutralize him, Dagger wasted no time in kicking him back with a rain of punches and kicks that pulled him into unconsciousness. Dropping to his knees, Dagger unshackled the frightened kid before letting his gaze examine the boy to make sure he stood unharmed. Then, he quickly pushed his link and wallet that housed nothing but a few coins and his royal Andarion signet ring. The only thing that held any real value and the last piece of his old life he still carried with him. The reasons why, he was unsure. For some reason, he could never part with it. Until now. At last, he gave the innocent kid the only thing that became his lifeline throughout the years on the run. His fully charged reserve blaster. He reached for the holster on his back, retrieved the weapon and made sure to unlock the biolock on the trigger so the boy could defend himself if necessary. The astonishment written on the kid's face was nearly comical, but Dagger encouraged him with a subtle inclination of his head. “You should have enough in there to get you home. And don't stop for anything until you're home, surrounded by your family. Shoot anyone who tries to keep you from getting there. Conscience be damned. Whatever it takes, chizzi, you get yourself home. Now, run!” Shouting, he pushed the boy out of harm's way as some of the others started to regain consciousness. Pulling himself up to a stand, he groaned as his wound scorched his sensory nerves, drowning him in pain and misery. But the boy refused to leave. Instead, he curled his fingers around Dagger's coat, coaxing the bleeding fugitive to join him in his return home. “You need to come with me. They'll have you for sure.” The boy's cryptic words gave Dagger pause. He leaned and whispered, “I know who you are.... tiziran.” Shit. No, double shit. Bewildered, he stared at the kid, wondering how in the Tophet he knew his real identity. He quickly decided it wouldn't matter in a few minutes as he was a walking corpse. The Korilon was coming for him. Dagger closed his hand around the boy, hoping to pull him from the mess he left behind as far as he could. In their escape and in a most ill-fated plot-twist, another group of outlaws barged in. Armed and looking for trouble. Dagger knew enough of Tavali pirates to recognize their gear. And their thirst for profit. Well, at least his luck never ran out. More accurately, lack thereof. They would gut him faster than the rest of the vermin crawling this bar if they were to smell money. And Dagger was a bottomless pit of it if captured. Instinctively, he hauled the kid behind him in protective impulse. He would fight to the very end, even if the charge of his main blaster had run out. He still leveled it to the female leader who stormed into the bar, wearing a dark red leather outfit that outlined her curves to perfection. Her red lace mask concealed her features to his gaze in a most mysterious fashion. In turn, she angled her weapon at his heart. Before Dagger got the chance to speak up, the boy inserted himself between the duel, crying in loud supplication. “Don't shoot him! Auntie, please. He's the one who saved me.” The laser dot, targeting his heart, wavered for the first time as doubt shocked the woman. “What?” “Just look around! He was helping me escape after freeing me.” The bodies scattered supported the boy's claims, somewhat easing the ruthless female's rattled nerves. Weakness overtook him, bringing Dagger to knees. The buzzing in his ears made it nearly impossible to pay attention at his surroundings, he tried but failure was unyielding. His arm suddenly heavy, he lost his aim but directed all his remaining energy on what truly mattered. The boy's safety. “Are you safe, akam?” The tone of lingering protectiveness and desperation surprising him and those witnessing the moment. “Yes.” Letting gravity take its toll on his dying body, his blaster dropped on the floor with a sobering thump right before his quivering body followed suit. And he embraced the darkness, at last.

#remnants of a throne #solo #jullien eton anatole

[agorawho]

West to California

The day I moved from New York went like this: I awoke at 6:00 a.m. and finished packing my apartment. (For eight nights I’d slept on a pile of sheets, curtains, bath towels, and a yoga mat.) I swept the floors and wiped the counters, said goodbye to friends working across the street. And minutes after 11:00 a.m., minutes after the local bar opened, I snagged a stool and by way of justification explained I was leaving this city and this mimosa here: this is celebratory. I smiled, cheers-ed the bartender. I ordered another, pretended she’d had to pull my leg a little. She hadn’t. 

Here’s what I didn’t say: 

My brain interprets public transportation as a cage. On the taxi ride from midtown Manhattan to JFK, my body will inevitably enter fight or flight mode. Innately, I’d flee, but I can’t, because the taxi is a cage and a panic attack can last only twenty minutes before your body shuts down from overuse or overheating or overreacting, and what if I die in the backseat? I needed the mimosa. This wouldn’t be the first or last time I’d self-medicate with alcohol, although it would be the only opportunity to do so during my move to Los Angeles. There would be no early morning cocktails on the road. Typically, though, alcohol is easy self-medication: accessible, socially permissible. In bars, anxiety hides within code words: “Bad day,” “meeting with a friend,” “fuck it.” I’m not proud, but it helps. Often there’s shame attached to recovery. There’s shame attached to illness, too. If I’m going to feel ashamed regardless, that morning I figured I’d rather drink than panic in the backseat of a taxi. It’s a shitty decision to have to make.  When I talk and write about my road trip to California with my father, I focus on the music we listened to—The Beatles, Jack’s Mannequin, Mariah Carey—; the town in Texas with a population of 7,000 and a motel named “It’ll Do”; the toothless man at a bar in Flagstaff. I share photos of the Grand Canyon, state lines. I don’t say I eyed the road for escape routes, spent four days tracking rest stops, restaurants. Controlled my breath between exits. I remember the road trip by my panic attacks. I can map my anxiety across the country.  I wouldn’t be formally diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder for another two years, despite enduring panic attacks for more than twenty. I remember a panic attack at six, but I remember anxiety as early as pre-K. In high school, I’d go home early a few times a month. I didn’t use words like “panic attack.” I used “stomachache.” When I called my mother from a bathroom stall during a statewide standardized test, I used “stress.” I described it: my heart is racing, I’m shaking, I can’t calm down. I feel so cold and then so hot. I think I might throw up. Could you come get me? At home she split a Xanax in half. I slept through the afternoon.  On the road to California, the first panic attack hit near Port St. Lucie, mile marker 144. We’d entered the freeway around mile marker 65. Every meal I ate Cheetos, the only food I trusted not to make me sick, orange dust sprinkling my black sweats. There was a panic attack in the fourteenth hour of our second day. We drove on a two-lane road through Texas, no street lights for long stretches, abandoned and vandalized gas stations every ten or so miles. My blood sugar had dropped and I thought I might faint. There was a panic attack in the east California desert—this one I still feel inside me, reverberating like aftershocks. I popped Imodium like breath mints. My father asked why I didn’t eat breakfast. “No appetite,” I said. “I’ll take a banana for the road.” The banana would rot because putting things into my body was not safe.This was not rational, but my father understood. He’d witnessed my mother’s agoraphobia. 

I know now this was blissfully naive, but at the time I’d thought if I could survive four days in a car, I’d cure my illness. I swore I would move to California and hike (which I refer to as glorified walking, because often, here, it is), and camp in a tent, and lay out on the beach. I do these activities rarely and never easily. It turns out one cannot run from mental illness, and that mine is not situational, although I’m not mad I learned this in southern California. Recovery wouldn’t be like ripping off a band-aid, as easy as a road trip.   But when my father reversed from his driveway in Ft. Lauderdale and started west, I had hope in recovery. Later there’d be shame. There’s almost always shame. But in the months leading up to this move, up until the Port St. Lucie rest stop off the Florida Turnpike, there was hope.