#Someone put me in a hole until the update or else I WILL go insane.

[toasteaa]

Shaking and crying...the new trailer...oooouogouhough....

#toast talks #genshin impacted #I'm not gonna be okay in the new archon quest. I know I'm not gonna be okay #I don't even know what to say other than I'm so excited. I NEED Furina. I need to know what's going to happen right fucking now #THE FUCKING. DOOMSDAY CLOCK AAAUGUHAUGH #THERE WAS SO MUCH IN THE TRAILER I CAN'T SIT STILL #AND ALSO BECAUSE YOU KNOW MY ASS WAS GONNA BRING HIM UP EVEN THOUGH I WAS TRYING TO RESIST #NEUVILLETTE MY BELOVED WHAT IS GOING ONNNNN #YOU'RE GETTING ALL SAD AND DRACONIC AGAIN AND RRAAAAAAGH #Someone put me in a hole until the update or else I WILL go insane. #Omw to finish trip crowning Neuvi so he can perform his role perfectly cause HOO BABY #Okay now I'm gonna go be unwell about everything BYE

[itsbuckytm]

Till life and death | Henry Creel

In which by living a simple life as a nurse, gets to meet a certain someone that will possibly change your life.

Ps : English isn’t my mother’s tongue language, some minor errors might appear (if so, the story will get updated with the correct terms if seen) if so, hope you enjoyed!! 🤍

Henry remembered you.

He remembers everything.

From being the first project to once favorited by its own mentors. Mind you his ideologies weren’t working in his favors either. The time and effort he crafted to perfection now ruined right beneath his eyes, just as he witness your presence. A silhouette so delicate, almost too delicious not to devour in one bite. A fragrance so strong it almost made him sick to the stomach and yet it possessed him not to leave you out of his sight.

Luckily you worked part time at the laboratory and you were assigned to coordinate each patient’s medications and procedure when the time came. You definitely knew about 001. His real name however, remained another subject. With chance your shift was not aligned with his and by the time you got the hang of your position, Dr. Brenner assigned you with more patients. Almost protesting to argue to why, his only reasoning were that you were the best for the position and he had put his full trust on you and no one else.

It has been a few days since the new shift. Not truly on board with the decision, a single thought brought you joy the second you stepped foot inside the laboratory. Coffee. Only a simple yet official sip of fresh brewed coffee had brought enough exhatic and mindless thoughs before starting this hell hole of a routine. Before heading to work, a co-worker you worked with gave you the list of the new and usual patients you were going to serve today and for the rest of your life. “Good luck.” He knew your sentimental about new faces and with the smirk he gave you before leaving, you were for of a god damn ride.

Thanking the nurses with the new medication prescribed everything felt now new to you. As if you were back to square one. Noticing you were in advance doing a full run of your usual patients was probably the best decision until it reaches to the unknown. Time went relatively quick, patients grew happy when seeing your arrival others went mental and were sent to the isolation room. With a sigh of relief you were able to get most of them. Just when your finger brushes through the texture paper and saw the number. A number no one. No one not even the damn nurses were to wish upon anything to face this thing. 001.

With a sigh of unsureness the grip of your fingers as it held the tray became slightly slippery by each steps as you approached the room. You are a grown woman, it can’t be that bad. A damn fool. Telling such things to your self you were this close to think that maybe you were the one utterly insane. That everything around you was only just a dream.

“Come in.”

That voice… It caught you so sudden yet it grasped your body like a cloud into the sky. You leaned closer to the door, his back facing you, your fingers trembling by the touch. The doorknob felt cold just like his presence and the moment you opened the door, a woosh of subtle wind embraces your cheeks as if the air itself had truly interpreted onto him.

“You’re the new nurse, I suppose?”

“Yes.”

Great. First impressions failed miserably the first instinct was to leave the tray and rush to the exist soon as possible. The lesser you talked the less trouble you caused. With knowing such little information about him the chances of creating an awkwardness awareness grew more by the ticking clock within each seconds that passed by.

“You are not going to serve me?”

He turned to face you. The bright blue that shines through his eyes caughting you so off guard somehow spread a soft smile upon his delicate features. It had struck you so much that you barely noticed how ridiculous you looked when blinking a few times to return to reality and with shame and hesitation politely asked him to repeat his question.

“You are not going to serve me?”

His voice was more demanding this time. Definitely left you out of your comfort zone, however you managed to nod quietly humming a subtle yes enough for him to understand. Meaning reading through the lips almost became a second nature to him. Approaching him you noticed the cold once met prior but with luck you got used to it. “Here is your usual. I don’t have sadly the procedure on his your medication works but I am sure-”

He chuckles. Fuck. You should’ve shut your damn mouth and left things there. His eyes finally met yours, offering you a sit next to him. Uncertain about it, patients like this were rare in the laboratory. You remembered the discussion you had before getting offered the shift by Dr. Brenner.

“Oh and Y/N?”

“Yes, Dr. Brenner?”

“I’ll be assigning you a new patient by Monday. He is normally under my care but this time and with my full trust I will give it to you.”

With the incident of another nurse disappearing after a doing the opposite of Benner’s orders, no one not even its own god damn secretaries took the opportunity to be against his ideologies. So in Benner’s words you followed 001’s request and requested him to serve his medication the preferred way.

When the serving began silence corrupted the room either 001 enjoyed empty white covered window’s room or you were 100% going to prescribe yourself another medication in order to calm overlapping loop as you served him the correct measurement and water intake over and over again until none was left in the tray.

“May I say something?”

“Of course…” The shyness in your voice was for a him a sort of a amusement. Almost too laughable to not notice when the color of your cheeks turned into a slight shade of pink.

“Out of all the nurses I had in the pass, you are one of a awkward yet the most beautiful creature, I’ve seen.”

Wait a god damn minute… was that a compliment or an insult. Either way not deceiving him was probably the best option. “Um… Thank you?”

“Henry is the name.”

Henry… You mesmerized it in your head. His name felt so smooth as you murmured it softly almost too well for you own sake.

“Well… what’s yours?” He apologizes by telling you that he had been definitely lacking social skills ever since his other nurse sadly passed away.

“The name is- is Y/N. I work-”

“Yes I know you. He told me about you. He told me that you were my new… guardian angel. Although I believe it should be the other way around, what do you think?”

Pinch myself. Was all you thought when hearing such baffled words coming from your patient’s name. Almost to the point of laughing out of agony. That is of course when you had the guts to do so, but his present was so much stronger than anything other you almost started to believe him.

That is when he approaches from a few inches closer coughing you off guard as you felt his lips slightly brushing against yours but not enough to potentially be this close. The cold of his fingers almost white as snow touched your lips, ushing you to make another word. Smirking when he knew that his new prey was withing a blink of an eye right in front of him. The one he looked, craved, dreamed off every night since.

“Shhh.. Peter is the only one that matters now. You are now under his rules, power and wishes. He will protect you just as you will protect him. Till life and death.”

His words hypnotized you without even being aware of. You felt suddenly so petite around him, wanting to take him under his wings.

“Say it.”

It became more crisp. Almost as if you ever decided to run now, both of your lives were to vanish away completely. Your eyes locked within each other not leaving it out sight. You gulp out of nervousness, realizing you were to starstruck by his power, his words effortlessly blended with yours.

“Say… what?”

“Till life and death.”

#stranger things x reader #henry creel #steve harrintong imagines #eddie munson #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #dustin stranger things #lucas stranger things #maxine hargrove #robin stranger things #stranger things imagine #henry creel x reader #vecna stranger things #vecna x reader #x reader #imagines request #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4

[excelsi-or]

welcome to svt (pt. 12)

hello friends~~ are you all still there? hahaha, i can’t even remember the last time i posted on here. and honestly considered not coming back? but i love writing, svt, and this crazy site too much to leave. so even if there are only a couple of you left here to read, i appreciate it.

the last two-ish months (?) since i last posted have been the craziest, funnest times since i’ve been in uni. grad school is its own hell-beast, but i am enjoying everything i’m learning. 

ALSO svt have been active AF and doing insane things. i’ve got a month off school and have every intention of catching up as much as i can lol. 

anyway, that’s the life update. i’m going to try to get the rest of this story up this month. start fresh in the new year. i have been writing on and off the last couple months but dang, it’s been hard.

BIPOC rec: i actually have something for you today! A Mind Spread Out on the Ground - Alicia Elliott (a non-fiction book about the life of a white-passing Indigenous woman from Ontario); Kissez - Sevyn Streeter (catchy song); Haliwa - Brooke Simpson (I’ve rec’d Brooke before. I adore her and her music and this one is so catchy. I had it on a loop for like four days straight.) 

w.c. 2k (angst?)

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13

pairing: lee jihoon x OC/fem reader

‘I want an out,’ she says. She’d arranged for a meeting with Seungcheol. After being stabbed, Joshua had recommended she take it easy for a few weeks.

But that wasn’t the real reason she wanted the out.

Since she and Jihoon had spoken at the university, she’s noticed dark circles growing under her partner’s eyes. She can hear him making music some nights. However, it’s also very clear that he’s not sleeping.

Every time she asks about it, he says he’s fine. ‘Just having problems sleeping.’

But sometimes on an overnight flight, she’ll watch him flail in his sleep, his brow furrowed in pain or intense concentration.

And she’s realized that Jihoon finds ways to fall asleep around or near her. Either on the couch with everyone else around or in the car when she’s driving. Sometimes, she’ll look over and find his face and body turned slightly towards her. The pain, the flailing, all of it stops.

She’s getting a bit worried that Jihoon is digging himself into a hole that he can’t get out of, and now being housebound, she’s noticed it a lot more.

Now, Seungcheol tips his head. ‘Out of what?’

‘Out of SVT.’

Seungcheol appears taken aback. Until two months ago, she would’ve had the same reaction if someone told her she’d be having this conversation. Two years on the job and she still enjoys it.

‘Out of SVT? Why in the world would you want to do that?’

‘Because of what Jihoon’s being put through right now.’

‘I haven’t put Jihoon through anything he wasn’t willing to do.’

She takes a deep breath and leans forward onto her elbows, closing the distance between them. ‘Look, Cheollie, I’m not an idiot. I know that to get Jihoon to go on a job without me, you’d leverage my safety. He told me what happened two months ago, what he had to do. It’s eating away at him.’

Seungcheol’s cool demeanour changes. Concern laces through his features. And his concern seems genuine. ‘What he had to do?’

‘Yes, and it’s making me reevaluate a bit. So, I would like an out.’

‘Okay, okay. I’ll give you an out if you want one,’ Seugcheol agrees. ‘But what happened?’

She frowns deepens. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Doing what?’

‘Acting like you don’t know anything.’

Seungcheol shakes his head and leans forward. ‘I will admit that I sent Jihoon on a mission without you two months ago. I admit that I used your safety to encourage him to go. But that’s all I know. He texted me saying the job was done, he came home, and he’s been around. You guys got in a fight that we all knew about, but both of you have been acting normal again. I assumed you guys didn’t get romantically involved. Other than that, I haven’t seen any indication that anything’s wrong. We haven’t talked about it, because I was under the impression that he hadn’t told anyone about the mission. So, what are you talking about?’

She levels him with a stare and Seungcheol allows her to do so. ‘You really don’t know.’

‘Fill me in. Why do you want an out all of a sudden? What’s going on with Jihoon? What’s going on with the two of you?’

‘Hold up, we’re in danger and you don’t even know what the danger is?’

‘Jihoon dealt with that.’

‘Jihoon killed someone to deal with that,’ she hisses. It’s the first time she’s said the words aloud since that night.

Seungcheol pales. ‘He what?’

‘And he’s stopped talking to me about it. If this is the kind of ship you’re running now, Cheollie, I want an out. I like what we do, but I will get good honest work somewhere else if it’ll keep Jihoon’s head in a good place.’

Seungcheol noticed her slipping around his question about their relationship status. However, this last statement implies that they’ll be leaving together if they leave at all. That’s something to analyze later.

He presses a button on his desk now and speaks aloud. ‘Everyone to the kitchen, please.’ He motions for her to stand. ‘We’ll sort it out. No one’s going to be out of the loop this time.’

‘My out,’ she says once they reach his office door.

‘I’m going to give everyone an out,’ he promises. He reaches around her for the doorknob.

They can hear all the feet padding around the apartment as the members make their way to the kitchen. She finds Jihoon near the fridge, having just come out of his bedroom. He tilts his head when he sees her coming down the stairs with Seungcheol’s help.

When she’s within reach, Jihoon tugs her to his side. The other members congregate around the island so they can see Seungcheol.

Even Jeonghan looks confused when he takes his position at Seungcheol’s side.

‘What’s going on, hyung?’ Chan asks.

Seungcheol meets her eye before speaking. ‘It’s come to my attention that you all need an out. You don’t have to use it, but you should be allowed the option.’

The members exchange looks, and she feels Jihoon shift towards her, aware that he’s put his body slightly ahead of hers.

‘Jeonghan and I have been keeping something from you and I just want it out in the open before we deal with the “out”.’ Seungcheol plunges into an update about how they’ve started stepping on criminal toes. Toes that don’t like to be intercepted one too many times. They’ve started upping the ante, sending Jeonghan occasional threats. The threats have apparently been becoming more violent as SVT’s intel and connections have improved, allowing them to foil plans and protect assets more efficiently than ever.

‘Is that what we concluded with the museum mishap?’ Jihoon asks.

Jeonghan blinks in surprise, glancing past him to his partner.

Jihoon turns to look at her, as do the rest of the members.

‘Yes,’ she says to Jihoon. ‘That’s what we concluded.’ His brow furrows at not being told this information.

‘I sent Jihoon to get us intel a few months ago,’ Seungcheol continues.

Eyes move their way again. She notices Jihoon stepping out of the spotlight, but she rests a hand on his back.

‘Did you wanna let us know how it went? We haven’t had a chance to talk about it.’ Seungcheol phrases it as a request, but they all hear the underlying command.

‘You’re the one who wants the out,’ Jihoon murmurs loud enough for only her to hear.

The hand on his back presses gently to confirm his guess.

Jihoon meets their eyes and begins talking about what had happened. As per usual, the group listens attentively. The job started as they tended to.

‘Jeonghan hyung told me that they would be out doing something else, that I didn’t need to worry what that something else was because Chan and Shua hyung were dealing with it,’ Jihoon shares. ‘But not everyone was out. I got caught by one of their security guards, which I should have anticipated because it’s exactly what Cheol does when we’ve all been sent somewhere.’

‘Leader stays behind?’ Soonyoung guesses.

‘Except I think it was one of their better fighters, because we got into it and I nearly died. But your gag gift of a pocketknife, Chan, is probably what saved my life.’ He holds his hands up. ‘I had to leave it in him.’

A murmur runs through them as they realize what Jihoon is implying but hasn’t explicitly said. The murmur doesn’t overpower Seungcheol’s question. ‘I shouldn’t need to ask, but were you wearing gloves?’

‘Yeah. They won’t know it’s mine.’

Seungcheol sighs in relief and then motions for everyone to come closer. ‘In light of that, I want to give you guys an out. The better we get, the more work we do, we’re going to wind up on people’s hit lists. And the stakes will be higher. We’re gaining a reputation and while we can wipe you from every database you wind up in, I can’t guarantee your safety anymore.’

‘You never could do that,’ Joshua points out. ‘We knew what the stakes were when you recruited us. You made that clear.’

Jihoon glances at Seungcheol, who notices he has something to say. Seungcheol nods.

‘We’re playing with guns. Big guns,’ Jihoon points out. ‘It is actually getting dangerous. It’s not as if art thieves are running around with guns all the time. And there are going to be more groups coming after us with ammunition.’

Seungcheol catches Jihoon’s eyes again to nod his approval of the input. ‘If more and more groups start to recognize you and put names to faces, your families will also be at risk,’ he continues. ‘So, my out for you is this: we can cut ties here. You can go back to your families, to your lives before we met. We’ll wipe you from our system, give you your life back.’ His eyes move over the members.

‘For those of you that want to stay on, to ensure your family’s safety, we’ll do everything we can to properly disconnect you from that life. Make you a ghost. If you ever wanted to leave afterwards, we can create a new identity and you can live your life elsewhere.’ He leans forward on his hands. ‘But the one thing I ask is that you don’t meet with your families and friends until you’ve distanced yourself enough from SVT in time and space before you return.’ Stepping back from the counter, he bows his head. ‘I’ll give you guys a week to decide what you want to do. Until then, everyone stays here. I’m not sending any of you out.’

Jeonghan’s brow furrows at that, but he says nothing. It isn’t until he follows after Seungcheol to their offices that he seems to pepper the man with questions. Meanwhile, the members talk amongst themselves, partnering up to discuss their futures. She feels Jihoon’s hand wrap around her own and she lets him lead her back down the hallway.

She shuts the door behind them once they step into his bedroom. She’s never heard Jihoon yell before, but if he were going to, she thinks now would be the time.

‘You told them,’ he states.

She remains near the door. ‘You didn’t.

‘Because they’d worry.’

‘As they should.’

‘I can take care of myself.’

‘I know you can.’

‘And I can’t go back to my family.’

‘I figured that too.’

‘But you can.’

She tips her head slightly, but nods.

‘Will you?’

Realization dawns. ‘You’re asking me if I’m going to leave you.’

Jihoon waits.

‘We don’t have to decide it now.’

‘I think I’d prefer to know where we stand now.’

She tips her head. ‘So, you can distance yourself from me if I say I’m going home?’

Jihoon nods.

Her tongue runs along her teeth as she thinks. ‘Maybe we need to make this decision separately.’

‘I want to know where we stand so I know where my walls need to be.’

‘They can be whatever you want them to be, Hoonie. You already made that very clear.’

Jihoon’s expression freezes and then hardens. She can feel her heart clenching at the walls she can already see being built.

Wordlessly, she slips out of the bedroom. The door closes behind her and she leans back against it, taking a few deep breaths so she doesn’t start crying. She can hear the others talking in the kitchen and then she hears footsteps moving towards her. When she turns her head, Hansol and Mingyu are making their way over. Both of them stop in their tracks when they get a look at her face.

Hansol turns on his heel and announces, ‘I’m telling Seungkwan to make you soup.’

She sniffles. ‘I’m not sick.’

Mingyu tosses an arm around her shoulder and leads her back towards the light of the kitchen. ‘Being love sick is the same thing.’

You’re getting two parts today :) 

#Seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #Svt #woozi fic #woozi #woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #Lee Jihoon #lee jihoon scenarios

[91percentpynch]

lonely heart - kevaaron au pt 4

oh look it‘s me, coming out of my dark hole to make you suffer with a super sad chapter with a nasty cliffhanger:) so get your tissues ready and enjoy!! okay first of all sorry that i didn‘t update this in a g e s and that it‘s rather short and for the cliffhanger, but i‘ll try to update it more regularly now:)

check this out for the other parts:)

trigger warnings: drug abuse, mention of suicide, mention of mental health issues, very sad aaron, mention of blood

“You were too good for me”, Aaron whispered into the void. “You were way too fucking good for me. You made me a better man. And I fucked up”

Aaron got up as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. He knew he wouldn‘t be able to sleep alone tonight. Like every single goddamn night since he left Kevin. Like every single goddamn night since he made the biggest mistake of his life.

„Taylor?“, the blonde haired boy murmered, „You up?“

„Babe, you know I‘m up. My girlfriend lives three states away, we talk every single day at the same time as you call your man. Not that I would be able to sleep when you call him, cause a) i love Day and b) you‘re always sad and high and end up in my room anygays, so did he take the phone darling?“

Taylor was Aaron‘s roommate and the closest thing he had to a best friend. She had been there for him every single day, cuddled him, held him while he cried and dried his tears afterwards. And Aaron did the same when she misssed her girlfriend too much.

„You do realize he is not my man anymore, I fucked that up. Big time. He did actually take the phone just to tell me to fuck off and stop calling“

„You could always go over there and say it in his pretty face. Didn’t say you can’t come over did he?Pro point: Might lead to making out“, Taylor said while taking him in her arms. „Plus another pro point: you‘d get sober again. And you‘re less moody. No offense but a Kevin-less Aaron is hardly managable, like you‘re either a whiny little bitch or you‘ll give me the death glare of the cenutry. Legit worse than Andrew‘s and I called him a cute little baby boo once when I was drunk and he almost stabbed me right there with a look on his face like I just murdered Neil in front of him“

„Tay, I take that as a compliment. And we both know Kevin’s a bit of a dumbass so he did not exactly tell me Not To Come over just stopp calling. Anyways I don‘t even know where he lives. And stop talking about me getting high, you do the same shit“

„Yeah but I know my limits and I have not the same history as you. And for the i DoN‘t EvEn KnOwS wHeRe He LiVeS, phone number. Now“

„O- okay“, Aaron said and told her Kevin‘s phone number while Taylor calmingly stroked his back.

„Neat, got him“, Taylor said after a while. „He‘s with the scary big dude and his adorable little boyfriend I think? I have their address right here, I think we‘re gonna visit them tomorrow cause it‘s like 4 am right now and we don‘t wanna rob him his beauty sleep plus we don‘t want to wake the scary big dude. And I‘m pretty sure the adorable small golden retriver boy could and would stab us“

„Did you just stalk my ex and located his phone at 4 am like fucking Garcias in Criminal Minds?“, Aaron said confused.

„Anything for you big guy. And as I said I miss Day‘s pretty face, preferably in your pretty face so you shut the fuck up about how stressed and depressed and lonely you are.“, Taylor chuckled as Aaron looked at her shocked.

„Well I miss Casey, preferable in your face so YOU shut up“, Aaron was never as good in witty remarks as his brother. Especially high Aaron.

„Babe I think it‘s time for you to go to bed, you‘re not fun when you‘re sad, high and tired. Come here, let me cuddle you, while you whiney little bitch sleep“

Aaron slowly went over to Taylor and into her loving arms, laying down, trying to fall asleep.

After a long while aaron drifted into sleep, just to be greeted by familiar smaragd eyes. In his dream Kevin and he never broke up. Kevin was on top of him, his hands gently discovered Aaron‘s body, touching him as if he was sacred, something to worship. Kevin‘s lips were at Aaron‘s ear whispering sweet nothingness. Aaron‘s hips moved against Kevin‘s loving touch. „Stress release“ Kevin called these holy moments in dawn. „Highlight of my day“ Aaron called them.

The dream was as beautiful as it was cruel. It was as if his body, his mind were as much refusing as able to believe that Kevin was gone. It was his own fault, Aaron knew it. But the ever present voice of his mother, disapproving and disgusting, in his head was just too much for him to handle. He thought - foolish as Aaron was - that the pain of living without Kevin would be better, less cruel, less painful. But he never knew real love and therefore never experienced its lost. Until that faitful day. Until Kevin took his bags and left.

Aaron was used to pain. The hot one after an extraordinarily vicious hit. The cold one when his mother died. The numbing one when the hunger was growing more and more unbareable. But nothing was even slightly as hard to handle as the loss of Kevin in his life.

Kevin was the first good thing Aaron had. He gave him a will to stay, to try, to give this stupid sport everything he got. And Exy turned into more mundane things like getting his eating routine under control or getting a more or less acceptable sleeping schedule. The dark days were still there, for both of them, and they would probably never leave them completely alone, but they got less. And when they did happen they would hold each other together.

Ever since he fucked up things with Kevin, Aaron had more and more dark days. The voice of his mother telling him he‘s a failure, the bored stare of his brother and Aaron convincing himself Andrew wouldn‘t even bet an eye if he died, the voice telling him the world would be a better place without him growing louder and lourder every passing day.

Logically he could say that the death of a single person wouldn‘t change much for the over all world population, expect maybe it‘s some kind of insane mademan dicator or someone important, but still. It made sense. All he did after all was fucking up, being a failure, never good enough, never perfect.

His lonely heart only screamed Kevin‘s name and he knew if Kevin didn‘t take him back, his life wouldn‘t make much sense anymore. Well he would definetly not tell Kevin that. He would not manipulate Kevin into loving him, because that wouldn‘t be much better than not having him at all.

Aaron woke up the next day around noon. He didn‘t really feel like getting up, like getting up was simply too much. But Aaron knew he had to. He didn‘t want to worry Taylor more than he already did. And it would end today. One way or the other.

So he got up, put on the first pair of black jeans he could find and the first sweater his hands could find. Ironically it was one of the sweaters Kevin gave him, on the third of december last year. It was one of Aaron‘s favourites as well.

„Ready for the big Day, small guy?“, Taylor said winking at him.

„Not really? What the fuck am I supposed to do there anyways?“, Aaron replied on his way to the coffee maker.

„Talk to him? Deliver one of those borderline cringe big speeches. Get im flowers. Break into his bedroom and say ‚Draw me like one of your french girls‘, naked of course“, Taylor laughed at the face Aaron made, listening to her suggestions.

„I think I like the big speech. I mean I‘m shit with words, but I‘m sure you want to help your boy getting ‚his man‘ back, right? Also what kind of flowers would you give someone you dumped cause the voice of your dead mother told you it was wrong and disgusting, which you never told him for obvious reasons?“

„Honey, you‘re so fucked up sometimes, I love you but you should go to a therapist or something. Also I‘d say sunflowers or roses? I don‘t speak flowers man, I‘m the tech nerd. Not the romantic one, the nerd. But we‘re gonna make a snazzy speech and you‘re gonna get your man back“

After their typical breakfast - if Aaron didn‘t forget to eat again - they sat down together on the living room floor, paper and pen ready, trying to write the world changing speech.

„Why is this so fucking hard? Why can I only tell him how much I love and miss him when I‘m high off my ass“, Aaron complained.

„What about you don‘t think about him that much. Just tell me what you love about him and then we write that down?“, Taylor suggested.

Aaron took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. „I loved him because he was the first one who saw me. Aaron Minyard. And not just the other Minyard, the lesser twin, the shadow of Andrew. He looked at me and somehow chose me. Even if he could have had everyone else. He chose me, even though I‘m not special. Kevin chose the failure when he could have had the first prize. He looked at me and saw something worth loving, worth keeping around. Hardly anyone could tell Andrew and me apart. But it took him less than a day to do so. Kevin is strong, so so strong and somehow chose the most fragile thing he could find, took it and made it worth soemthing. Kevin made me feel something. Not numbness. Not pain. Something warm and beautiful and living. He gave me a reason to stay alive. Kevin made my life bearable, he made my life beautiful. We were both broken and we would probably still be broken if we were together but we softened each other‘s edges. Kevin believed in me when no one else would. He knew how I felt, knew what I needed and when I needed it. Kev gave me love and safety and I kicked it with my feet. This man is like a god who fell for whatever reasons for a homeless man. And I know I don‘t deserve him but I also know I cannot live without him. And I know that I must tell him that before it‘s too late. If it‘s not too late already“

Taylor wipped a tear out of her eyes. „That‘s it. You tell him that and we‘ll get him back“, she said. „Can I hug you?“

„Sure you loser“

„Ah there is my boy“

They spent the rest of the afternoon writing down the speech, making edits here and there. In the end Aaron collected the pages and went to his room to change. He replaced Kevin‘s sweater with a simple black jumper, put on his Docs, got his keys and left.

Aaro did feel a little uncomfortable, stalking Kevin like that. But he knew this was his chance to fix things. This was his chance to get Kevin back, to make his life worth living again. Which to be fair was a bit selfish, but you are allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, aren‘t you?

Jean and Jeremy‘s apartment complex was a 15 minute drive away from the flat Aaron shared with his three roommates. Theirs was fanzier, obviously. After all Jeremy was a professional Exy player and Jean was some kind of semi famous artist or fashion maker or whatever. They could give Kevin the world. They could give him what he desereved. All Aaron had to offer was an apology and his love. No money. Not yet anyway. Just anxiety, depression and stress.

But if Kevin was willing to take his love, to give Aaron one more chance, he promised himself Aaron would make it count. He will tell Kevin how much he loves Kevin every single god damn day. Aaron will get therapy and work on his issues. Sober up and this time for good. He will do anything to be worth of god‘s love. Just that god in his case was a twenty two year old boy with black hair, forming soft waves at the end and a smile that will make the sun jealous. Eyes made out of smaragd. Lips so sinful and kissable.

Aaron sat down in front of the door, waiting for his courage to come back to him. He could do this. He would get his man back.

Hours passed, or maybe it were only minutes or seconds after all before someone came closer. Ever so slowly Aaron lifted his head, just to look in the ever so familiar green eyes, big with shock.

„You said to stop calling. You never mentioned face to face conversations“, Aaron said, his voice hoarse.

Kevin stared at him as if he was a ghost, a reminder of his past life, something he rather wanted to forget.

„Look I know I fucked up. I know I‘m not good enough for you. I know you deserve the world and I cannot give it to you. And when you look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t feel anything for me anymore, no love or hate or affection or whatever humans feel, I will turn away right now and go and never come back. Never bother you again. But if you allow me to apologize, if you however decide to gieve me one last chance, I prepared this whole ass speech for you“

Aaron was sure they could hear his heart beating against his chest, roaring, screaming to return home. To return to Kevin where it belonged.

Kevin‘s eyes wandered to the floor, his fingers automatically closed around his left wrist. A nervous habit. Just another little part that makes Aaron‘s heart ache.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, he lifted those unbelieveable beautiful eyes and met Aaron‘s golden ones. Kevin studied him and the world around them stopped.

Out of the corner of Aaron‘s eyes he could see Jean going still, his breathing too calm, too even. It‘s the same thing Andrew does when someone fucks with Josten. At least his death would be fast. Or slow. Whatever. Aaron didn‘t really care, without Kevin it wasn‘t worth anygthing anyway.

„Why“, Kevin said after what feels like forever, „Why would I forgive you? Why would I give you another chance? Why would you think you can come back here just to fuck me over again? Aaron I loved you, I really did. I always will. You were my first love and maybe, yeah maybe, my last one. But right now I can‘t. I just, I just can‘t. Please leave. Please leave me alone. For now. Maybe, one day we can talk about it. But right now I cannot handle the thought of you to leave me. To tell me all these beautiful lies, to cut me open and leave me to bleed out. I love you“, tears were running down Kevin‘s cheek. Tears Aaron one day, a long time ago, promised himself he would never let Kevin feel again. Pain. Sadness. Everything because of his failure, because of his weakness, because he‘s a fucking piece of shit.

„Thank you for giving me a reason to stay. Jusst remember that you were my light, my warmth, my happiness and I never stopped loving you. Never will. Please just be happy“, Aaron replied as he turned around to walk to his cars.

When he was sure he was out of ear shot, he let himself feel. Feel the pain. Feel the loneliness. Feel the numbness and the cold and the hatred. It was in that moment, that moment where he was alone and nothing more to lose, that he decided that it was enough. He would end it. End it tonight.

„Thank you“, he texted Taylor. „I‘m glad I didn‘t eat you in the womb“, he texted Andrew. „You were not so bad after all“, he sent to Neil. And lastly „Thank you for taking me under your wing“, to Nicky. They would understand. It would take them some time but in the end they would feel better. They would be happier without them. Because at the end of the day he caused them pain and wasn‘t really worth a thing.

So when he got in his car, tears running uncontrallably down his cheeks, he knew what he had to do.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king’s men #kevin day #aaron minyard #ship: kevaaron #kevaaron

[delusionalteenagewhispers]

5 Years

Fandom: Markiplier Universe

Paring: Dakiplier/Damien x Gender Neutral!Reader

Part of a Series: Yes or No 

Disclaimer: GIF IS NOT MINE!! CREDIT TO OWNER! ALL MARKIPLIER CHARACTERS AREN’T MINE! THEY BELONG TO MARKIPLIER!!! 

A/n: Hello!! Before you read the story read this!! This is for anybody to read no matter if you are black or white or mixed or blue or pink or red or green. I do say something about being pale but I mean as in the color of the skin had depleted like how dark looks almost gray the reader looks like that, grayish. ALSO IF ANY OF Y’ALL HAVE LIKED IT I HAVE PUT UPDATES TO IT! CAUSE I WANTED TO MAKE IT BETTER!

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Mentions of Depression, Mentions of Cheating, Mentions of intoxication, Who Killed Markiplier spoilers, Cussing I think, Tons of flashbacks, TONS of angst, fluff

Summary: It was Five years later after the incident in Markiplier Manor. Everyone from that night was scared some way or another. Either if you went crazy and became murder. Or you lived when you were supposed to die. Or you tricked your friend out of their body only to be fused with another person within the same body to only become someone, completely different. Or to be tricked out of your own body by someone you thought was a friend. Everyone went their own ways, everyone leaved except one person who couldn’t leave, who was trapped there. And five years later they are visited by an old friend, by someone who was once in that same manor that very night.

Main Masterlist -> Here

Request List -> Here 

———–

It was a a quiet day, just like every other day for 5 years. Horribly, horribly quiet. Not a sound was made. Not even when a ghost like figure roamed the halls. Making a point to not stare out the windows too long but they couldn’t help it as they saw the bright blue sky. Just calling to them. They stopped at the a window, a big window. The figure looked longingly at the sky, at the outside world. They were so enamored by the outside world they didn’t take note of the loud sigh coming from just outside the house.

A short, frustrated sigh had left a blue and red highlighted man’s vocals as he looked in front of him. At the very house that left him how he was now, filled with anger and pain. Slowly he walked forward, testing if he could really set foot inside. The figure continued to look out the window with that longing look in it’s eyes, but anger was gracing their features as their eyes stopped on the man red and blue highlighted man. He seemed, not of this world. Not anymore at least. He seemed confident, serious. But Y/n knew better, Y/n knew who this man was. Or who this man used to be. It was five years ago when Y/n was tricked out of their own body by a woman named Celine who worked with spirits and things of that nature and a man that they once considered a friend, maybe even more. It was five years ago when they had been all tricked by a man named Mark who sought out for his own kind of sick revenge who not only hurt the one he intended, he hurt the others as well. The innocents in all of the chaos. 

It had been a nice, sunny day when Y/n had arrived to the house. They were the assistant to Mayor Damien, an old friend from childhood, much like the host of the party of that fateful day, Mark. Y/n and Mark were great friends in high school, But Mark and Y/n soon lost contact as Mark became rich and famous and earned himself a wife. And Y/n went to college, and soon got a job working alongside the only person who had bothered to keep in contact with them, Damien. And after about a year of working alongside Damien the party came around. How Y/n regretted going, regretted taking those vacation days with Damien to “take a break.” It just one night, one day, that everything had changed. 

It was a long story, of what happened that night. 

Mark was dead, killed. Lighting struck for no reason when the word “murder” was spoken. Y/n became the partner for a detective who was invited to the party, an old friend of Mark’s. Damien seemed off, not like himself, kind of like he was a different person. They met a gardener who knew the house had spirits and a supernatural element. Celine busted through the door. Celine told everyone how the house had a supernatural element. A fight broke out between the Colonel and the detective. Secrets and things of the past came out in the heat of the fight. The words of the Colonel and Celine once having an affair on Mark. Colonel taking money from Mark for the sexual aspects of his relationship with Celine. The colonel shot the detective and Y/n was shot next. Y/n woke up in a dark space and saw ghostly version of Damien and Celine both highlighted in two different colors. Damien was blue, Celine was red. Y/n was told to trust them, that they’d be brought back to life, that it would all be okay. Y/n came back to life only for the colonel to go insane. To think it was all but a joke as he thought he had killed Y/n. The Colonel became a broken man that day. Y/n only wished they could have done more but before they could they were pushed out of their body by Damien and Celine who formed together to become something that scared even Y/n. And Y/n was trapped in the house, able to go from mirror to mirror outside of the house but no one could see them or hear them. Only the fusion of Damien and Celine could hear but he ignored them. Causing Y/n to only become angrier, to become detached from reality it’s self. 

The man highlighted in blue and red was Darkiplier, a shell of a man and woman he once was, Damien and Celine. Y/n broke their gaze from the window, from the bright blue sky lined with fluffy clouds.Y/n saw as Dark make his was through the halls until they saw him at the balcony. His back was turned to them as he gazed outside. It was the very same balcony where Y/n had almost confessed their love to him. But sadly it never happened. Y/n thought that maybe if they did, their fate could have been changed. But then again, Y/n was thankful they didn’t, because they knew deep down things would have still went the way they went, and Y/n would have only been left with a bigger hole in their heart. 

“ You know, I’ve thought about this day for years. Watched you through the mirrors. Trying to get you to acknowledge me. But then again how could I blame you. Nobody likes reminders of guilt, even you.”

Dark stared at the sky, he knew they would be there. But he didn’t want to look at them. He didn’t want to see them, how they’ve changed. It was when he ignored the broken whispers they spoke from the mirror. Oh how the whispers have taunted him. It was when a small whisper from the broken shell of person behind him, made him come back. 

“ It’s nice to see you too Y/n.”  

“ So what else have you been doing instead of avoiding me that is?” Dark scoffed at that as he continued to look in the opposite direction then Y/n. Making a point not look at them.  

“ You know, avoiding things don’t help, Damien.” Dark continued to look at the sky. He ignored the use of his old name. He ignored the way their voice seemed broken. He didn’t want to think about it. He knew he shouldn’t have some back, but the hope that maybe he could get a little bit of his old self back filled him with the bravery to go back. But now, all he wanted to do was run. 

“ Look at me, Damien.” Dark didn’t speak. 

“ Damien, Look. At. Me.” Dark didn’t make any movement. 

Y/n grew angry and yelled,“ I SAID, LOOK AT ME DAMIEN!”  

Dark swung around and was met with the ghostly figure of one of Damien’s best friends, his companion, the one he loved but never got to tell them. Damien was Dark. Only half but that side of his mind still had control over him, he was still Damien, just changed and fused with a darker humanoid. 

 Dark never cried anymore, Dark never showed any type of emotion anymore except anger. Not since the week after that fateful night. But at that moment he wanted to cry. The guilt of what He/Damien and Celine did filled him. It was his Y/n, but it wasn’t. His Y/n was gone and in their place was the shell of what they once used to be, much like himself. Their skin turned pale, well paler than it used to be. The color seemed to be gone from them. Their eyes seemed empty except two emotions Dark often felt, sadness and anger. Their clothes seemed old and wrinkled and dirty.

“ Y/n…” He said, his tone was monotone but if you listened closely you could hear the heart break in his voice. And all Y/n did was listen anymore. 

“ I watch all of you, did you know that? Through those fucking mirrors! Nobody can see me or hear me. I’m just stuck. Stuck either watching people I once cared about living their lives while I’m stuck in a mirror or this god damn house. You know, Mark, he got no karma for what he did, he’s as happy as can fucking be. Just continuing on manipulating people to get what he whats. William is fucking insane, killing people left and right, going by Wilford and I can’t help but feel it’s partially my fault. The Detective well he survived that day, almost killed by William, but now he’s stuck in his own concocted hell-space within his own mind. And you, well lets just say your little game of ignoring my calls isn’t very fucking amusing.”

Dark glared at the ground as he gritted his teeth and lied, “ I wasn’t ignoring you, I simply just did not hear you.”

“ BULLSHIT DAMIEN!” 

Dark looked up quickly at Y/n’s outburst. He was remembering how calm Y/n used to be, how they would never yell. They were always so calm, so soft, so pure. Now, they changed and it was all his fault and Dark couldn’t help but get angry. Sure he was angry at himself but Dark had the tendency to lash out on other people for his own mistakes.

“ SHUT UP, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT! I AM TO BE RESPECTED! AND MY NAME ISN’T DAMIEN RESPECT IT OR SO HELP ME YOU WILL REGRET IT!” He yelled angrily, frustrated, he gritted his teeth when he heard Y/n’s laughter fill the room, fill his ears. He remembered how he loved that laugh, how at any chance he’d get he launch at just to hear the sweet laughter of Y/n. But now, he wanted to cut damn his ears off. 

“ And what will you do if I don’t respect that Damien? You can’t do SHIT! I’m a ghost, a shell of a person I once was cause someone stole my body. AND BECAME A MONSTER! So no, I will not respect you because if saying an old name, one of the names you used to go by because I know Celine’s not anywhere in there, I will, if it’ll make you realize that you can’t just ignore me like all your other problems and expect them to go away then I will!” 

Dark didn’t know what to say, he breathed, trying to calm himself before he did something he’d regret. He knew coming back was a mistake but hearing that final whisper made him come back, “ I loved you Damien.”

“ What you said, was it true? That whisper that made me make the stupid choice of coming back. Or had it just been one of your whispers to just taunt me?”

Y/n softened, Dark could tell the difference. Y/n looked a lot like they used to look, still emptier, still with that sadness overwhelming them but they looked softer. 

“ Of course it was…” Y/n whispered before walking a little further, Y/n stood at the railing, looking out at the sky no longer looking at Dark.

“ Of course it was true. Sure I hit low at that point but I needed you to feel the guilt that you weren’t feeling. I needed you to acknowledge my presence. It was the last thing I could think of. And it worked.” 

“You really think I didn’t feel guilt?” Y/n looked over at him to see his fists clenched together and Y/n had watched him through the mirrors many times to know he was on the verge of a temper tantrum or a sob fest. Either one, Y/n hoped they’d finally be getting somewhere. Possibly closer to man they once fell in love with. 

“ Y/n, Of course I felt guilt, of course I want to ignore my mistakes and sadly that includes you! You were a mistake! What I did was a mistake but I don’t regret it! I am a stronger man than what I used to be. Who I was, was WEAK! And the sooner you understand that the sooner you will feel peace within yourself!” 

Y/n smiled, a small smile and Dark felt weird. He felt something he hadn’t felt in years. After that fateful day all Dark’s emotions seemed to have been ripped from him except anger and the rare sadness he had. He was left with a sadistic, angry version of himself. The anger of being betrayed and the supernatural forces of the house and being joined together with Celine changed him into a much stronger being, but a very dangerous and sad one. But now he felt what he would always feel when he saw Y/n smile, how he felt when he would hear them laugh, how he felt when they chose to spend time with him instead of taking time to themselves. He felt, happy. 

“ I know I am a mistake, but it’s nice to know you finally accept it. I did love you, and in a way I always will. What you did, I hate you for but I’ve accepted a long time ago that Mark is the villain in the story. Not you. I spoke to you because you were the only one who could hear me and I knew you’d be the only one to see me at this house because what you walk around in is my body. And in reality I was lonely and your finally back. Sure your different and your not the same man, but your the man I fell in love with and that’s gotta count for something, Darkiplier.” As Y/n spoke, they walked closer until they were so close their noses could touch. Y/n lifted a hand to his cheek, and surprising them both, he touched him. Y/n knew it was the connection between their body and they knew they could try to take it back, but they wouldn’t do that, not to the man they loved. 

“ I will always love Damien…”, They whispered, “ And I know, I’ll love you too, Darkiplier.” 

—–

I really hope you like it!! I worked really hard on it!! 

#Darkiplier #Markiplier #wilford warfstache #who killed markiplier #wkm darkiplier #wkm actor mark #wkm william #wkm y/n #wkm detective #wkm house #wkm celine #I dont want a lawsuit #Angst #Fluff

[thebeautifulmoonlight]

Basic Questions

First name? Emily

Surname? Loreley

Middle names? Rose

Date of birth? February 28, 1891

Age? 130

Physical / Appearance

Other distinguishing features?

Multiple spots where she has sewn wounds back together and put body parts back on.

Physical handicaps?

Due to her being dead, she has a few issues physically. First, her skin is very fragile and does not mend itself. Her nerve endings and taste buds are also extremely dulled, requiring stronger touches and tastes to be recognized. She cannot get drunk and does not require food or air to survive. She also cannot have children.

Type of clothes? She     still prefers older style, vintage-inspired clothing that calls back to     the styles from when she was alive.

What are their feet     like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn,     etc) Pretty shoes but loose to not loosen her toes from her foot.

Are they in good health?     …. I don’t even know how to answer this

Personality

What words or phrases do     they overuse? Far too many old school sayings

Are they more optimistic     or pessimistic?

Emily is very optimistic. She believes that everything works out in the end – even facing the darkness of her past, she looks for the silver lining she is sure will come out of it.

Are they introverted or     extroverted? Extroverted

Do they ever put on     airs? Never ever – there is no room for that sort of thing in a civil     society.

What bad habits do they     have? She is far too trusting of people.

What makes them laugh     out loud? She’s pretty soft spoken, but she is humored easily. She might     not laugh out loud but a decent corny joke and you’ll get her chuckling.

How do they display     affection? Showering the person with her attention and smiles.

How do they want to be     seen by others?

She wants people to see her as kind, as loving, fun, a person that will always have your back.

Strongest character     trait?

Her strongest character trait is her ability to raise up people regardless of where she is in her life and in the moment.

Weakest character trait?

There are moments, topics, goals that she has, where she is willing to sacrifice the greater good to fill those holes in her own life.

How competitive are     they? Not even a little – but the games are fun to play still.

Do they make snap     judgements or take time to consider? Take the time to consider.

How do they react to     praise?

Emily does not handle praise well. It makes her blush, she can’t make eye contact after… but she does appreciate it. Please don’t stop saying nice things about her.

How do they react to     criticism?

The idea that she let someone down would be crushing.

What is their greatest     fear?

I think her biggest fear is also something she knows will be her reality – I think she would desperately love to have children, a husband, a family, that quaint little life, but it’s impossible, meaning she has to live with the truth to her fear every day.

What are their biggest     secrets? I mean… that she’s dead.

What is their philosophy     of life?

You really never know how much time you have left in this world. Don’t waste it. Laugh. Dance. Love. Enjoy the people beside you while they are still there.

When was the last time     they cried? Probably just earlier that day.

What haunts them?

The fact that she was murdered by the person she thought loved her and not letting that color the way she views the people in her life now.

What are their political     views?

Okay – let me write this now to be updated later! I think, just because she is new to this world, she would lean more conservative, but as she grows and learns and educates herself, she will swing to a liberal view of the world.

What will they stand up     for? Herself, the people she loves.

Who do they quote? Her     father.

Are they indoorsy or     outdoorsy? Outdoorsy.

What sense do they most     rely on?

Because most of her senses are very dulled, she can only really rely on sight and hearing.

What quality do they     most value in a friend?

People who are accepting and loyal.

What do they consider an     overrated virtue? Obeying rules.

If they could change one     thing about themselves, what would it be?

Emily has a lot of anger inside her that rears its head and shows the worst of her. She wishes she had more control over that.

What is their obsession?     Finding love.

What are their pet     peeves? People who don’t listen to her.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or     small? Who does it consist of?

Small, it was only herself and her parents.

What is their perception     of family?

Family was something very important to her and she misses them insanely. Family are people who love you, support you, and build up you and your dreams.

Ideal best friend?

This is a person that she has fun with and always has her back. They accept her for all her flaws and would probably not murder her once they have her trust.

Describe their other     friends.

Past and Future

What was your character     like as a baby? As a child?

Emily was a curious child, always enjoying learning new things and having adventures. It was not uncommon for her parents to have to go hunting the village to find where her day had taken her. She was not a troublemaker but her ability to wander gave them plenty of heartache.

Did they grow up rich or     poor?

Her father owned most of the town as she grew up and allowed her to have some of the best things in life. They were the first in the town to have their own car.

Did they grow up     nurtured or neglected? Nurtured.

What was their first     kiss like?

Their first kiss was with Barkis. It was very soft and lovely – and a total lie.

What is the worst thing     they did to someone they loved?

While her feelings on Victor as love is debatable, she tried to force him to be with her and also force his true love to stay away from him – the aftershocks of that event and the depths she was willing to take to make them do what she wanted is why she ran off and found herself here.

What are their     ambitions?

To find a husband… stay tuned for growth.

What advice would they     give their younger self?

Listen to your parents. They want what is best for you, and Barkis is not what is best.

What smells remind them     of their childhood?

Baked bread.

What was their childhood     ambition?

To run her own restaurant.

What is their best     childhood memory?

She loves to think back on the evenings with her family. They would gather around, talking with each other, playing the piano. Her parents talked to each other as equals and challenged each other in their love – she would sit and watch and adore them.

When was the last time     they were crushed with disappointment?

When Victor didn’t want her.

What past act are they     most ashamed of?

Her verbal and physical assault of Victor’s love.

Has anyone ever saved     their life? She wishes.

Love

Do they believe in love     at first sight? One billion percent.

How do they behave in a     relationship?

She is someone who will totally devoted and loyal in a relationship. When she is with you, her eyes are totally on you and no one else.

When did you character     last have sex? Never.

Has your character ever     been in love? No………………

Have they ever had their     heart broken?

People can take a number to break her heart.

Conflict

How do they respond to a     threat?

She does not back away from a threat and is not afraid to face it head on. She will put you in your place if she must.

Are they most likely to     fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue.

What is your character’s     kryptonite?

She is extremely gullible. For all her backbone, she can be manipulated into giving you her trust and allowed to be mistreated.

How do they perceive     strangers?

To Emily, you are a friend until you prove that you aren’t.

What do they love to     hate? She finds that whole idea troubling.

What is their choice of     weapon?

Swords. Very dramatic.

Have they ever been     bullied or teased? Is murder bullying?

Work, Education and Hobbies

What are some of their     past jobs?

She ran her father’s speakeasy for him before her death.

What are their hobbies?

Playing piano, traveling, getting lost and finding adventures.

Educational background?

She went to a girl’s school, able to get a high school education thanks to her father being well off.

Intelligence level? Just     average intelligence.

Do they have a natural     talent for something? She’s musically gifted.

Do they play a sport?     Are they any good?

She does not play a sport but because it was not an option to her. If she had had an opportunity, she would have probably enjoyed it and be athletic.

What is their     socioeconomic status?

She is currently quite poor and living in a shelter until she gets a job and money to support herself.

Favorites

What is their favorite     animal? Hummingbirds.

Which animal do they     dislike the most? Snakes.

What place would they     most like to visit?

She would love to go to Paris. Emily thinks of it as the epitome of sophistication and romance.

What is the most     beautiful thing they’ve ever seen?

A full moon shining through the tree.

Music, art, reading     preferred? Music

What is their favorite     color? Purple

What is their password? EmilyL     – its bad, I know, she’ll learn lol

Favorite food: Anything     with lots of garlic so she can taste it

Possessions

What is in their fridge?

Nothing, because she doesn’t have to eat.

What is on their bedside     table?

Dried flowers and a candle

What is in their bin?

Paper scraps scribbled with Emily Van Dort

What is in their     pockets? A lot of change

Spirituality

Who or what is your     character’s guardian angel?

She misses the worm that helped her with advice when she was dead.

Do they believe in the     afterlife? Um… yes.

Are they superstitious? Very.

What would they like to     be reincarnated as?

She would be happy just being a whole person and not a dead one.

How would they like to     die? Not murder by someone she trusted, that’s for sure.

What is your character’s     spirit animal? A rabbit.

What is their zodiac     sign? Pisces

Values

What do they think is     the worst thing that can be done to a person? Murder.

What is their view of     ‘freedom’?

Freedom is the ability to make your own choices, live your life by your own rules, out in the world and surrounded by nature.

When did they last lie?     A couple days ago.

What’s their view of     lying?

As long as you aren’t hurting someone, she does not see the issue with it.

When did they last make     a promise? Earlier today. She makes them often.

Did they keep or break     their last promise? Always keep your promises.

Daily life

What are their eating     habits?

Because she is dead, she doesn’t have any need for nourishment or eating. She eats for appearances sometimes, or to feel normal, but she has to eat and drink very strong flavors in order for her dulled taste buds to notice it.

Are they minimalist or a     clutter hoarder? Clutter is comfy.

What do they do first     thing on a weekday morning?

She hasn’t slept so she probably goes back to wherever she is staying to change into new clothes and wash the old.

What is their alcoholic     drink of choice?

She loves old timey drinks that remind her of home and her life before death.

Miscellaneous

What or who would your     character dress up as for Halloween?

She is going to enjoy some Halloween. She’d probably just paint her face slightly green and reveal all her real stitchings, and go as a zombie.

Are they comfortable     with technology? Hahaha, no.

If they could save one     person, who would it be? Victor.

If they could call one     person for help, who would it be? Orion.

What is their greatest     regret?

Any act of violence she perpetuated.

What would they do if     they won the lottery?

Pay for a trip to Europe for herself and her friends.

What is their favourite     fairytale? Cinderella

What fairytale do they     hate? Hansel and Gretel

Do they believe in happy     endings? Absolutely.

What is their idea of     perfect happiness?

A house lit by candlelight with a husband and children running around.

What would they ask a     fortune teller?

Does she find someone who love her?

If your character could     travel through time, where would they go?

Home.

If they could have a     superpower, what would they choose? Flying.

#watask #{{beautiful bride}}

[abovethesmokestacks]

Distant Connection 2/7

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 985

Rating: General audiences

Warnings: none

| Distant Connection Masterlist |

Thank you so, so much for the support and reblogs and comments on the first chapter! It’s making me maybe a teensy bit less nervous about this whole endeavour, and also excited to post again. Stay safe, and I hope you enjoy chapter 2.

Chapter 2: Introvert Olympics

“...so, I guess that’s something we need to take into account when we get to present budget issues.”

It’s day ten, new week, same face that looks from you to something on his screen or scribbles in a notebook. It’s… surprisingly easy. Even better because you haven’t been greeted by a furry butt since Alpine decided to make an appearance. James- Bucky, he said to call him Bucky and even though you haven’t it still applies - is a good collaborator. If that’s because you’re both stuck at home and trying to do the best out of a crappy situation and thus maybe having a little more patience with each other, is hard to say. But he’s knowledgeable, has a few years of project work under his belt and is happy to both take and give advice. 

It could be worse.

A ding sounds through the connection, J- Bucky picking up his phone and rolling his neck.

“Alright, time for a break. I can call you back in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh.” Why does that all of a sudden sting a little? Like he can’t wait to get rid of you. Maybe you’ve misjudged just how well the two of you mesh. “Okay. Sure.”

“Unless… you want to… stick around and have coffee together? Or tea? Coffee? I don’t know, do you drink either?” Bucky flounders, and how is it possible for him to sound so unsure all of a sudden?

“Both, actually, but I might actually go for tea. Caffeine makes me, you know, energized, and I can’t exactly run a marathon in here to get rid of the energy so I can sleep at night.”

Bucky snorts and nods, “I hear ya. So, um, gimme five minutes to get myself coffee? And maybe feed the monster?”

It’s kind of nice. Apart from the fact that the only tea you have home is the one you bought by mistake that tastes of grass, and you can tell Bucky tries not to laugh as you keep grimacing at your mug. It’s easy. There’s not really much talking, not between you at least. One of Bucky’s room mates ducks in and asks something off-screen, you think you hear Alpine meowing when Bucky goes to put away his mug. It’s a good little pocket of calm before you’re back in work mode.

The next day, he doesn’t ask. Just keeps the feed going. Coffee, terrible tea, minding each other’s business. Alpine makes an appearance on Wednesday, apparently patting at Bucky’s leg for attention and he lifts the cat onto his lap.

“He looks used to that.”

“Oh, he is spoiled, absolutely. He claimed this chair when I brought it home over the weekend before we started, and looked so betrayed on Monday morning when I wouldn’t let him nap in it,” he laughs, scratching under Alpine’s chin and the cat stretches his head up until he almost loses balance. “He’s good though. Keeps me sane. And drives me insane. But mostly the first one.”

You take a sip, grimace. Fuck, this is becoming unbearable, you need actual tea and not this… torture. “I wonder how everyone else is coping. God, I would pay to be a fly on the wall of the guy who had the office next to mine. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was scaling the walls on day two.”

“Yeah, one of the guys I live with is struggling a bit. He’s not good with working alone. I mean, he can do stuff on his own, he doesn’t need someone to hold his hand, but he’s struggling outside of the whole work environment with other people around?”

“I mean, I miss everyone, too. Kinda. I mean, they’re fun to work with. But I gotta say, this isn’t horrible? Like, having to work from home, obviously. The reason behind it is though.”

There’s a sage nod from the other end of the screen, Bucky taking a sip from his mug, and ugh, maybe you should give in and just have coffee. “I know. I was a little nervous about how I’d cope, but it’s been fine. Being a little introverted helps. Like, finally something I’m good at, just sitting at home, working quietly, not talking to anyone for a majority of the day. Well, anyone but you.”

His eyes bulge the second the words leave his mouth and he almost knocks over his mug. It’s almos a little cute. “Shit. That sounded wrong. It’s- I’m- This is good. I mean, working with you and talking with you and seeing you. Shit. What I’m saying is-” His mouth is left agape as he struggles to work his way out of the hole he’s digging himself into, while Alpine paws at him and looks highly annoed, and you laugh again, loud and pealing, and Bucky mock-glares at you.

“I’m gonna shut up now.”

“Please, don’t. This is the most fun I’ve had all week,” you say between fits of laughter. “And if it’s any consolation, I’m the same. I don’t mind this. Although between the two of us, I’m clearly a little more hardcore because I live alone.”

“What, we’re doing introvert Olympics now?”

“I might be. I think you’d be disqualified because first off you have room mates, and second, you also have a cat.”

Bucky’s face scrunches up in a smile, “Okay, fair. But I still spend a majority of my time alone, and the monster is not nearly as helpful as you’d think.”

“We’ll be fine when this ends.” You’re not sure where that comes from, but it seems the right thing to say. You have no idea for how long this lockdown will go on. Social distancing until further notice, Fury’s weekly update had read on Monday.

Maybe it is introvert Olympics after all. You look around your apartment, and for the first time, its size and its silence feels just a little unnerving.

#Distant Connection #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #social distancing video calling coworkers to friends to lovers

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 18

[ finally updating <3 i've been hanging out with a friend all weekend so i haven't really had the chance to write! very excited to move on to the big game though. hopefully it'll all fit into one chapter without killing me dead since it'll be in Garrett's perspective, but we'll see how much i wanna write about it ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

“He kissed you?” Lawrence asked over dinner that night, after Garrett finished telling him about his day. “Like… on the mouth?”

Garrett let out a sharp laugh that cautious way Lawrence said it, covering his mouth until he’d calmed down. “Yes, Lawrence, on the mouth. It was insane! I’ve never seen him lose his composure like that, I honestly thought we were about to fuck.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” Lawrence replied, referencing Garrett’s propensity for taking just about any chance for public sex that he got.

“I wouldn’t either, but Perez walked in and he acted like she was gonna kill him for it,” Garrett said, rolling his eyes at the memory of the interruption. He would have had a lot of fun that day if it weren’t for her coming in. Though, giving Strahm a little taste of what he craved only for it to be taken suddenly was very satisfying as well.

When they were done, Lawrence helped Garrett clean up. Mark hadn’t come home yet, he had some work to catch up on and decided to stay late. He was probably also preparing for the big game that would be starting soon.

He still wasn’t home by the time the two of them laid down, and Garrett sent him a quick goodnight text before closing his eyes. He heard his phone ping with a response almost immediately, but the lack of sleep last month was still kicking his ass and he passed out before he could reply.

---

“Huh. That’s new,” Garrett commented as he looked down at the corpse in front of him, a man with his head sawn in two. The trap itself seemed to be just the circular saw covered in the blood of the dead man, the chains around his wrists attached to the wall with it.

“My best guess is that he was supposed to get out of the chains before they dragged him to the saw.” He didn’t actually know anything about this trap, as he hadn’t seen it be built or heard anything about it. It honestly looked like something John himself put together, but he knew that was unlikely, unless it had been built when John was in better condition.

He began to glance around the room, looking for a tape or keys. Generally, he wasn’t allowed to touch the tapes, since they were almost always in evidence by the time he was called in. He didn’t find a tape, but he found a key in a small hole in the floor, covered up with a piece of wood that was near indistinguible from the rest of the floor.

“Hey, where’s Strahm?” Garrett asked Perez when she handed him the evidence bag that he dropped the key into, so they could check if it would have actually worked.

Perez gave him one of those looks, making it clear that she knew exactly why he was asking. “In his office, I imagine. He came in but didn’t show up when I called him down to the scene. I can only guess why.”

See, this is why you should knock before coming into Garrett’s office.

“Hm. Good to know,” he replied, grinning at her before getting to work on his sketch. He loved knowing that she could see the tension between him and her partner, because it made it so much more fun.

He handed the sketch off to her when he was done, making a small note about how simple this trap was, and how he thought it was probably Kramer who designed it, making it easier to build since he couldn’t put it together.

He’d know if he was right or not when he asked later.

Soon enough, he was back in his office, humming a soft tune to himself as he worked.

The office was becoming something like a third home to him, seeing as he spent more time in it than his own apartment at this point. Sure he was glad to have a different job and coworkers than when he worked at the bookshop, but he spent a lot of time in here.

It didn’t help that the other parts of Jigsaw suddenly decided to pick up the pace and set an assload of traps, some of which Garrett didn’t even know about until they happened. He was inclined to think that he was the only one working on the big game now, but he knew better than that. After all, John had been very excited (or, as excited as that man could get) to show him the rack last time he was at the meat packing plant. Of course, he’d been ecstatic to see it, the rack was his favourite torture device, and he loved the new twist on it.

Damn. Not even he could escape his shitty puns.

Either way, Garrett got out of the precinct as fast as possible, not because he was tired of being in there, but because Mark had told them that if the both of them went back to the motel today, they could get the trap finished and be done with it, which would lessen the time in between setting it up and the game starting.

As excited Garrett was to see the game unfold, he was also eager for it to be done with. At this point, he was only really tuned in to seeing the rack in action, and seeing if Strahm lived or not.

Though, he’d also get to see just how good of an actor Mark was when he was pressured, and he was very excited for that.

“You ready?” he asked Mark once he had his bag slung over his shoulder, carrying the two final pieces of the machine itself, while Mark had all the extras- the tape, the pictures to be strung up, the pig mask that the player would be given, and the red light bulb they were going to switch out the normal one for. Atmosphere was important, after all.

“Let’s go,” Mark replied simply, apparently deciding that he was going to drive the shitty rental car that Garrett himself could barely fit in. That was going to be amusing, but he said nothing.

He let a snicker escape when Mark realized he was too big for the car, but he stood by his decision and made the very awkward drive to the motel, glaring at Garrett every time he laughed at the sight of him all crumpled up in the driver’s seat.

They took a longer route to the motel this time, just to be safe and ensure that they weren’t being followed. But it didn’t take too long for them to park in front of the gross only building.

Garrett pulled his mask and hood up, glancing at Mark and finding him with a confused expression. “I’m kind of easy to pick out in a crowd,” he pointed out, referencing his bright white hair and face scar. “You should probably cover up too, just to be safe.

Mark paused for a long moment, before sighing and pulling his own hood up. Then they got out of the front and grabbed the bags from the back, heading in as soon as Garrett found the room keys.

Ivan tried to talk to them again when they headed in, trying to get them to explain who they were, only to be shut down with a sharp glare from Mark. Garrett snickered quietly to himself at the look on that freak’s face, before quickly heading upstairs.

They set everything up before putting in the new light bulb, neither of them particularly eager to work in the red light. Mark set up the pictures, tape, and mask while Garrett finished putting together his most annoying, but likely most satisfying, trap.

Garrett was going to be the one watching every camera that they were connected to, acting as the watcher of the game. He originally thought about participating, but John shut that down quickly. There needed to be someone who could take down stragglers and put Strahm in his trap, and Lawrence wouldn’t be able to do that himself.

It was a little disappointing, but at least he’d get to see the Rack and his own trap in action.

They didn’t stay any longer than they had to, heading out as soon as they were done. Ivan didn’t try to talk to them again, but someone else tried to get their attention.

There had been a drug addict that was sitting beside the front door every time Garrett showed up, usually choosing to yell at him whenever he came in. He’d done the same thing today, but took it up a notch and grabbed Garrett.

He almost killed him on the spot, forcing him to freeze as his eyes widened even more than they usually were. The addict seemed to already regret his decision, probably because the lighting made Garrett’s very wide eyes look red, instead of his usual brown.

The jacket was released almost immediately, but that didn’t stop Garrett from cracking his fist down on the man’s jaw, ignoring his cry of pain or the fact that his knuckles now ached.

“Let’s go,” he growled to Mark, grabbing him by the arm and all but dragging him out of the building.

They didn’t talk about it on the ride back, or after it. In fact, they planned to never talk about it again. Luckily, they were distracted when Amanda wheeled John over, placing him right in front of them.

“Is your trap done, Garrett?” John asked him, pulling the oxygen mask down to hang around his neck. When Garrett nodded his confirmation, he continued. “Good. The game can proceed earlier than planned then. Is your final tape finished?” he asked Mark now.

Mark recorded the tapes for Rigg’s part of the game, the part that Mark himself would be participating in. Garrett had gotten to listen to them, and he had to admit that he’d gotten a lot better at the Jigsaw voice.

He nodded, confirming that they were done. “Then we gather the players soon- within a week, at the most. Take a break while you still can. Garrett, you will collect Mr. Denlon and his co-players. Amanda will retrieve Dr. Denlon and Detective Matthews. Mark, you have your files, try not to hurt them too much.”

It’s funny that he thought Mark was going to be the problem- though, to be fair, Mark didn’t exactly see players as people anymore. That’s why Garrett was gathering the players for John’s half of the game, because he didn’t trust Mark to not hurt them.

John waved his hand to dismiss them both, and they took the chance to head home to the apartment before it got too late, not particularly fond of the idea of sleeping in Garrett’s work room.

Besides, Lawrence was at home, and he never liked sleeping alone.

“So, do you think Strahm is going to follow Rigg’s trail like he’s supposed to?” Garrett asked as he drove them home, both of them far more comfortable in his own car, which was actually built for people their size.

“If he wants to find Jigsaw, he’ll have to,” Mark replied, finishing whatever text he was writing on his phone and sending it off. “With how much he thinks it’s me, he’ll think that he’s being led to exactly who he wants.”

“Which is why I’ll be knocking him out. I’m a different build, height, and strength level. The last thing he’ll probably realize before he passes out is that whoever I am, I’m definitely not you,” Garrett added. The plan was thought out to the smallest detail, and that was one of the most important parts. Strahm wouldn’t even have a trap at all if he’d just minded his own business.

Garrett would never admit it, but he definitely wished Strahm had stayed out of it. He wasn’t by any means a good man, or a good agent, but he wasn’t being trapped for rehabilitation; he was being trapped to die.

It made him feel uneasy. Sure, Garrett wasn’t a perfect model of John’s teachings, but he still believed that killing someone for the hell of it was fucked up. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t like that Strahm was given no way to escape.

So, he was going to give him one.

#story tag: listen closer #self ship fic #self shipping #self insert #scrap.writing #scrap.ships #s/i: garrett whitlock #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon #peter strahm #romantic: 🦿🩺 #romantic: ⛓🕵️‍♂️ #romantic: 🖊💧 #(poly) romantic: ⛓🩺🖊 #chapter 18

[jinmukangwrites]

Good Deeds

Day 5 of Batfamweek2020 / Identity Reveal / @official-batfam-week

Summary: Scarecrow breaks out of Arkham again, but this time he’s not messing around.

Day late but oh well!

AO3

-o-o-o-o-

Dick’s pacing. It’s driving Tim insane, especially since he was literally shot less than a day before and shouldn’t be standing let alone pacing. But there’s nothing he can do about it. No one besides Alfred or Bruce can get Dick to sit still, and one is in England visiting his grandchildren and the other is the cause of the pacing.

It’s a Scarecrow attack. A massive one. One that has caused an all-hands-on-deck protocol. It’s almost like all the other break-outs, all the other new toxins and new tactics, was all for practice. For the first time in a long time, Scarecrow is a genuine threat and not a normal occurrence, no more unpredictable than a five day forecast. This week he’s been an unseen storm, spreading a toxin so potent and persistent that it’s victims are rendered screaming and clawing at their eyes on the floor for hours on end until their hearts stop.

Tim hasn’t found a vaccine yet, and the catch-all vaccine every hospital, bat, and first-aid kit carries is only slowing the mortality rate, placing patients in coma-like states to await the promise of an actual vaccine that actually works. Hospitals are scrambling and Tim has been doing nothing but test after test while the others all went out to find Scarecrow and his army of thugs he has somehow accumulated.

Tim snarls when once again his current attempt at a vaccine fails against the samples they have gathered and slams the beaker onto the table hard enough to wobble the other vials and glasses resting on the same surface. It feels like Scarecrow has finally perfected his formula and it’s setting every single one of Tim’s nerves on fire. 

Dick stops his pacing and then hobbles over towards Tim with a worried expression. Tim almost wants to shove him back onto the medical bed and strap him down to keep him from agitating the hole in his side even more, but his body betrays him as he leans into Dick’s sudden embrace.

“It will be fine,” Dick says, “you got this, little bird.”

Tim shakes his head and forces himself to break the embrace and return to his work. “Has B responded yet?”

Dick doesn’t reply and Tim bites his lip.

Batman went off grid hours ago. No response on the comms, no emergency signal, no signal at all. Last any of them knew, Bruce was checking out a suspected haunt for Scarecrow, but when he stopped responding and Orphan and Spoiler went to check the haunt out, they came back empty handed.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Dick says, more to himself than Tim.

And then the routine continues, Dick pacing and hovering his hand over the comms, listening to every single thing that’s said, hoping for word on Bruce, while Tim changes his formula and compares it to past formulas and tries again.

A couple hours pass, and Tim’s just finishing up his next attempt as Dick’s finally collapsed onto the chair in front of the bat-computer, simply listening to the limited amount of chatter going on from Damian, Cass, Steph, Duke, and Jason over the comms as they check possible haunts one by one and Oracle works to sift through every kind of signal going off in Gotham that’s not civilian cellular or police/bat frequencies. Most of the haunts are just traps, similar to what Dick fell into the day before, nothing there but a bunch of grunts with guns. No one has gotten hurt yet, but there’s been multiple times one of the members have had to cut off to fight a battle with a dozen or so gunmen, leaving the others in a tense silence that has Tim cutting off his comm completely, relying on Dick to update him every so often.

At least it makes the injured man feel a little helpful. Dick’s smart, but not the best choice to help Tim out with complicated science. He’s injured, so no use out on the battlefield. The most Tim can do is let Dick man the comms and update sometimes. Plus, Tim’s sure it’s relieving some of Dick’s stress as well, he hasn’t verbalized it yet but Tim’s sure he feels horrible not being out there with the others right now.

Then, suddenly, Dick jumps up from the chair and whips his hands across the keyboard of the computer, a concerned crease to his eyebrows that has Tim placing his formula down and walking near the shoulder of the first Robin.

“Jason says to check the cable,” Dick explains in a rush.

Tim’s just about ask why but Dick finally connects the computer to the satellite and Tim feels his stomach drop.

Broadcasting on live TV on every channel in Gotham is an image of a man tied to a chair, leaning forward and panting slightly. The ropes of the chair are close to the only thing holding the man up. There’s nothing else to see in the feed, the area around the man is black, and there’s no noise besides the heavy, labored breathing.

The man is Batman.

Tim quickly turns his comms back on to be met with the chaos of multiple family members all trying to talk over each other.

Jason is arguing towards a frantic Damian that he saw the feed walking past a television shop and Steph is rambling about other places they could check to find Bruce while Duke argues that they’ve already checked everywhere. Cass is silent, but Tim’s phone vibrates with the notification of a text with the simple words of he’s very hurt.

Tim ignores the arguing to look back at the feed. Cass can notice details that no one else can, and the suit and armor makes it hard to see any kind of injuries besides the sight of a purpling bruise on Bruce’s jaw. He gives off the vibe of being more hurt than that though, so he’ll take Cass’s word for it.

Suddenly, Barbara’s voice snaps for everyone to shut up. Never one to anger Barbara Gordon, the entire line goes silent.

“I’m tracking the signal as we speak,” Oracle hisses over the line, “so all of you shut up and keep looking. We’re wasting time arguing-“

Suddenly, there’s a change on the feed that has everyone silencing for a whole new reason. Batman looks up, past the camera, towards something behind it and narrows his eyes. There’s someone else there, and something is about to happen.

Tim swallows his growing fear as Scarecrow himself enters the screen, costume as freaky as ever with the noose tie and potato sack head, with a wide gaping smile cut jaggedly and held together with twine.

“Fear is often brought with the unknown,” Scarecrow says, his voice sounding raspy and light. He stops and stands behind Batman, spindly fingers laying down on the hero’s shoulders. “So I won’t spoil you all with a monologue.”

Tim and Dick share a glance.

“Babs, please tell me you can cut the feed,” Dick says into the comm piece in his ear. Barbara begins to snap that she’s working on it and Tim can only watch helplessly as Scarecrow continues.

“So I have one thing to say,” the villain brings a hand up to the top of Batman’s cowl and bunches up the fabric ever so slowly, leaving Tim to wonder how he managed to bypass the security measures that would stop any common crook from touching the mask. The grin on Scarecrow’s face seems to widen as he leans forward and Batman’s jaw pops with the man stubbornly grinding his teeth.

“Who’s afraid of the Big. Bad. Bat.”

The cowl is ripped off so quickly afterwards that it almost leaves Tim gasping. Bruce Wayne’s blue eyes glare at the camera for a moment before he growls at the wheezing-with-laughter Scarecrow as the villain begins to walk off the screen. The image of Bruce glaring off screen, refusing to say a thing, plays for a minute longer before the feed finally cuts off. Barbara gives a frustrated yell saying she’s lost the signal completely. Damian begins to practically screech for her to do better while Jason helpfully puts in that ooh Joker is not going to like this and Tim can only look at Dick as the man continues to watch the blank screen with wide eyes and a fist pressed against his mouth.

It’s not the first time one of their own has been revealed on live television. Dick’s had it happen to himself when the Crime Syndicate captured him. Tim can only imagine what’s going on inside his head.

Tim quickly backs up from the screen and turns his comms back off, doing the only thing he can do right now, and that’s figure out the anti-toxin so no more people have to be literally scared to death.

As the next fails too, he places both his hands flat against the table and sucks in a shaking breath.

Batman’s identity is revealed, which means it’s only a matter of time before each and every other bat is soon figured out. None of his vaccines are showing any kind of progress, and he’s running out of samples to test his failures on. Nightwing is injured and the other’s are all at risk of joining him the more villains and traps they run head first into.

How are they going to get out of this one?

#Tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #duke thomas #stephanie brown #nightwing #batman #red hood #red robin dc #red robin #robin #spoiler #signal #signal dc #orphan #dc #dc comics #scarecrow #jin writes #fan fic #batfamweek2020 #oracle

[babybluebanshee]

Feedback - A MHA Fic

Hizashi Yamada may be loud, obnoxious, childish, goofy, and frankly have the stupidest hair on the planet...but he's still a teacher.

Aaaaaand Ashido makes five. Sorry, kid, but “tooken” is not a word.

Hizashi made a harsh red line through the incorrectly conjugated verb, then moved his pen over to a legal pad. In large capital letters, he wrote “VERB REVIEW B4 WEDS.”

After he finished writing, he tapped his pen against the paper once. Twice. Then, he underlined his note. Three times.

He moved back to Ashido’s paper, and tallied her score in the corner - a 64%. Not bad, by Ashido’s standards, but it could stand to be improved. He’d have felt slightly better about it if he hadn’t written even lower percentages on Mineta, Kaminari, and Hagakure’s papers.

He sighed and polished off his soda. As was his way, he tried to look at this from a positive angle. He’d known the unit on irregular verb conjugation was going to be rough going in, especially in a language as absolutely insane as English. He taught the damn course and he sometimes had trouble with it. At least now he had an idea of where the students needed the most work before the test on Wednesday. The extra review would be good for all of them. And hey, maybe he could do some browsing online and try to find some review games. Those seemed to help when the kids were struggling with sentence structure.

Hizashi smiled as he tossed the empty soda can in the wastebasket by his desk. Everything would be fine. Class 1-A was one of the most promising groups of kids that UA had seen in years, and what they didn’t learn right away, they always managed to get eventually. He scribbled a little happy face on Ashido’s page (to complement the one she had doodled after her name), and set the sheet amongst the other graded assignments.

He casually looked over the next, slightly crumpled sheet in the stack. After a moment, he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Goddammit, Bakugo...

For the past three weeks, Bakugo had been turning in assignments that were only partially done. At first, it had just been a question or two left blank. Then five or six questions. Then entire sections.

This time, aside from his lazily scrawled name in the corner of the paper, Bakugo had left this entire paper blank.

Hizashi shoved his hand up under his glasses, trying in vain to rub away the headache this would doubtlessly bring on. He was so glad he’d taken out his hearing aids while he graded. Right now, the noise would not have helped. At all.

He marked a giant zero in the corner of the page, pressing so hard he was momentarily afraid he’d rip a hole in the paper. As he set Bakugo’s paper off to the side, his stomach clenched in hunger. This was as good a stopping point as any, he supposed. Time to find something to constitute dinner.

He padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Just as he was trying to decide if he felt motivated enough to go through the trouble of cooking vegetables and meat for some ramen, or just blasting it in the microwave and eating like a poor college kid, he spotted the pink bag on the counter, the words “Shrimp Chips” emblazoned on it in cheerful bubble letters. He lunged, quietly blessing Shouta and his pathological need to have a constant supply of garbage food in the apartment at all times as he tore into the foil bag with his teeth. He pulled out a handful and stuffed them into his mouth.

Something soft and fluffy snaked its way between his legs. Looking down, he saw Mame’s two giant green eyes staring up at him from the black void of her face, gazing longingly at the chip bag. Her fluffy tail swished back and forth lazily. She opened her mouth in what Hizashi assumed was a pleading mew. He smiled down at her and shook his head, moving his legs to sidestep her. Mame bounded away from him and jumped onto the nearby table, splaying herself out quite contentedly on the table in a pile of papers, discarded mail, and Hazashi’s school bag. She immediately rolled onto her back and stretched out a paw longingly. She then brought her paw back to her mouth, once, twice, three times.

She was signing “food”. And Shouta said you couldn’t teach a cat to sign.

Hizashi chuckled, swallowed, and then signed back, “First of all, child, you’re not even supposed to be up on the table.”

Mame blinked in response.

“Second, these are my chips. None for you. Shouta doesn’t want you eating anything but cat food anyway. He already feels bad when he has to explain to the vet why you’re so fat.”

Mame rolled back over, letting out a squeak of indignation, before stretching and jumping off the table. Unfortunately, her shifting weight jostled Hizashi’s bag, and before Hizashi could set the chips aside and catch it, everything inside had spilled out onto the floor. He tried to glare angrily at Mame, but she had suddenly become very interested in thoroughly cleaning her front paw. He supposed it didn’t matter. He could never stay mad at her anyway.

He brushed the chip dust off his hands and began to sort through the mess on the floor. Honestly, he’d needed to clean out this bag for a while. Its contents were a mess of lunch receipts and old notes he’d written to himself and playlist ideas for the radio show that had never fully come to fruition. As he crumpled up the trash in his hands, he uncovered his gradebook. He groaned slightly as he began to realize that meant he hadn’t recorded any of the worksheet scores yet, and he was already more than halfway through the pile. He’d have to go back and do them all again.

At least he’d caught himself. And he also had shrimp chips. That sort of softened the blow.

He gathered up the rest of the mess from his bag and put it on the table. He’d sort through it all before bed. Then he gathered up his gradebook, tucked the chips under his arm, grabbed another soda from the fridge, and walked back towards the bedroom.

He flipped open his gradebook with one hand, so he’d at least have it open to the right date by the time he sat down. It fell open to a page near the beginning of the semester. He was just about to shake the book to turn the pages (very nearly losing his underarm grip on his chips), when something caught his eye.

“Bakugo, Katsuki: 88%”

Huh.

His eyes drifted downward, to the next assignment he’d catalogued. An 87%.

He approached his desk, and he began arranging his things to his liking, but he never once took his eyes off the grade book. He scanned the next assignment. Bakugo had scored an 84%.

Hizashi sat down slowly, his chips and the rest of the papers forgotten. He turned the page in his gradebook. Bakugo’s next grade was an 89%.

The next was an 88%. Then a 90%, followed by an 85%. Another 87% and another 89%.

This didn’t make any sense. How could Bakugo start out with such high scores and then suddenly start turning in blank assignments?

He turned the page and got his answer. A 73% was the next grade he saw. It wasn’t exactly failing, but it was a dip in quality, jarring compared to the previous pages.

Maybe the blank assignments weren’t so sudden.

He continued to scan the page. The percentages hovered around the low seventies for a while. On the next page, they dipped into the sixties. Checking the dates, Hizashi saw that these grades began three weeks ago, right around the time Bakugo had started turning in the half-finished assignments.

The decline was steady, until Hizashi finally got to the last assignment he’d recorded. A 58%. A far cry from where they’d started.

His phone was in the corner, next to his hearing aids. He snatched it up and opened up his text thread with Shouta. His husband would be out patrolling right now, but it was still early, and Hizashi hadn’t gotten any breaking news updates on his phone. Hopefully, he wouldn’t catch Shouta at a bad time.

Quickly, he typed, Yo, have you heard anything from Cementoss or Ecto about Bakugo’s grades?

Shouta’s response was quick, taking a little more than a minute. Hizashi was the only person who could brag that Shouta had never left him on read in the entire time they’d known each other.

No. Why? Short and sweet. That was Sho for you.

I’m grading 1-A’s last assignment. Noticed something super weird.

Yeah?

So I’ve complained at you about the kid turning in unfinished work, right?

Many times. They’re enjoyable rants.

Before Hizashi could reply, Shouta sent another message. Do I need to talk to him again about getting his work in? Because I’m sensing the last talk didn’t stick.

Hizashi smiled and replied, Not sure yet. I looked at his grades from the beginning of the semester and they’re good. Not perfect, but good.

Hmm…

Then I started noticing him slipping. He was still handing in complete assignments, but he was getting more stuff wrong. Then he starts handing in this half-assed stuff and his grade just drops more. It’s weird.

What do you think is going on?

Dunno yet. That’s why I was asking if anyone else has said anything. If they had, I was thinking maybe we could have him talk to Hound Dog or something?

Like I said, haven’t heard anything from either of them. They’re not shy about telling me when someone is struggling.

It was true. Hizashi had never known either of his fellow teachers to turn away students who came to them for extra tutoring. And if the students wouldn’t come to them, they had no problem approaching them privately and gently insisting they should. There weren’t many students who would say no to a guy who looked like a walking corpse and someone who could make the parking lot swallow you up.

It just made everything more confusing. He couldn’t think of why Bakugo was doing so much worse in his class than any of the others. It couldn’t be because Bakugo particularly didn’t like him. Not that the kid was particularly fond of any of his teachers, but Hizashi had seen the way Bakugo behaved around people he genuinely hated, like poor Midoriya. That explosive resentment was a far cry from the casual annoyance Hizashi usually saw on Bakugo’s face when they were having a long lecture about diagramming sentences.

Then the word caught him. Explosive.

He thought of Bakugo during training, igniting the nitroglycerin-like sweat that poured off him, and making thundering explosions, loud enough to rattle windows and be heard for miles.

Hizashi’s gaze flicked up to his hearing aids, still at the corner of his desk. English had been a challenge for him because of them. Obviously, learning another language entailed being able to listen to it and pick up the various patterns, words, and grammar rules.

He picked up his pen and tapped it against the desk. Yes, English had been difficult for him, because he’d been deaf since birth. He knew that was the reason.

He could only imagine what it must be like for someone who doesn’t even realize something is wrong yet.

He tapped out a response to Shouta’s last text. I think I know what to do. I’ll explain when you get home. Love you xoxoxo.

Hizashi picked up Bakugo’s blank worksheet. Next to the zero, he wrote, much more lightly, “See me after class.” Then he underlined it. Three times.

------------

Hizashi kept his eyes trained on Bakugo as the rest of the class filed out of the room. He thought it pretty telling when the normally cocky little twerp was trying his damnedest to look everywhere but at him.

Finally, Bakugo stood up from his desk and approached the front of the room, hands deep in his pockets. As he did, Hizashu covertly touched the screen of his phone. The video he had queued up began, and a high-pitched whine filled the room. Even though his headphones cancelled out most of the feedback, it still made him wince as his hearing aids worked overtime to process the frequency. It was irritating, but he’d survive. He needed some proof.

“What do you want?” Bakugo muttered tersely.

Hizashi flicked his gaze down at his student’s pocket, where he’d stuffed the blank homework assignment Hizashi had handed back to him. As if sensing that Hizashi was looking, Bakugo crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it further down.

“Look, I’ll do the stupid thing again if that’s what you want,” Bakugo said, a bit louder. Hizashi knew the kid was trying to intimidate him. He tried it with literally everyone who even looked at him funny.

Hizashi just sighed quietly and replied, “This isn’t about one assignment, Bakugo. It’s about the last several assignments.”

Very few of his students had ever heard Hizashi use his “authority” voice, as Shouta called it. Hizashi honestly didn’t like using it. Most of the teachers in UA were some form of intimidating, and he didn’t want to be that way. He wanted his students to feel like he was a friend, rather than an authority figure. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know when it was time to straighten up and start putting on a teacher voice.

At least the tone had gotten Bakugo to stop looking at the floor and move his eyes somewhere in Hizashi’s general direction.

“It’s not my fault your class is a waste of my time,” the kid muttered.

“Then you should have no trouble explaining to me why your average score on my homework was an 87% until recently.”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first, but Hizashi could practically see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, trying to offer up some angry response that would hopefully scare this prying teacher off.

The high-frequency playing on Hizashi’s phone droned away. It was starting to make his skin crawl. Bakugo didn’t show any signs that he even noticed it.

“Guess your teaching bored me so much it made me drop a few IQ points,” Bakugo offered up weakly. Once again, his gaze was firmly fixed on the floor.

Hizashi took a deep breath, and said, “Bakugo, how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

That really got Bakugo’s attention. His red eyes contracted to pinpricks, and he straighten his whole body to look Hizashi square in the face. “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted. His words echoed through the empty classroom. “I can hear just fine!”

“Uh huh,” Hizashi said, picking up his phone and showing it to Bakugo. “Then why couldn’t you hear this high frequency that’s been going for the past few minutes?”

For a split second, Bakugo looked at Hizashi like he’d slapped him. Then the familiar rage contorted his features again, and he shouted, “You’re a liar! You didn’t have anything playing on that piece of shit!”

Hizashi held the phone out to him. “Check if you don’t believe me. But blow it up, and I’ll have you expelled faster than you can blame Midoriya.”

Bakugo swiped the phone from Hizashi’s hand and looked down at the screen, studied the video of the high frequency. He tapped play on the screen, and instantly, the dreadful noise filled the room again. Hizashi actually flinched a bit at the renewed onslaught.

He watched his student stare in silent confusion at the video for a whole thirty seconds before Bakugo spoke up again. “I...it...this stupid video doesn’t even have any sound,” he grumbled, thrusting the phone back towards Hizashi.

Hizashi took the phone, mercifully muted the video, and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. “Now, back to my original question: how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

“I already told you, I don’t have any stupid problems!”

“Then you’re definitely gonna need a better excuse to explain away these half-assed assignments,” Hizashi retorted firmly. A brief flicker of confusion crossed Bakugo’s face, and Hizashi guessed this was the first time a teacher had actually sworn in front of him. Hizashi took advantage of the confusion to add, “I talked with Aizawa and the other teachers. My class is the only one where you pull this stunt. Incidentally, math and literature are classes that don’t revolve around being able to hear what your teacher is talking about very well. Unlike, say, English.”

Bakugo merely growled.

“Maybe you’ve noticed ringing in your ears? Or that sound is fading in and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” Bakugo’s sudden shout filled the room. Those red pinpricks were back on Hizashi, full of fight and fire. He had no doubt that Bakugo’s palms were roughly two seconds from starting to pop. “If you can’t get it past your stupid, gel-encrusted hair and through your thick skull, then maybe you’re to one having problems with your hearing!”

Hizashi couldn’t help it - he started to laugh. He’d been prepared for Bakugo to insult and demean him (the crack about his hair was almost a given), but this was just too good. And the look on the poor kid’s face - torn between unbridled confusion and an animalistic urge to jump the desk separating them and claw Hizashi’s eyes out - only made him laugh harder.

Finally, Bakugo barked, “The hell is so funny?!”

Hizashi simply reached up and slid his headphones off, being sure to turn his head slightly so Bakugo could see the thin wires running from the insert to the black processor behind his ear.

“I kinda hope I’ve got a problem with my hearing,” he said. “Otherwise I paid through the nose for the world’s ugliest jewelry.”

Bakugo didn’t reply. He just kept staring - gaping really - at Hizashi’s ears.

Hizashi set his headphones down on his desk, and said, “I’ve been deaf since I was born, but I’ve only had hearing aids since I was about six. I wasn’t kidding when I said they were expensive.”

No reply.

“The doctor who fitted me with my first pair as a kid told my parents that’s probably why I cried so loud. I literally couldn’t hear myself and stop.”

Still no reply.

“The headphones serve a double purpose. They protect my hearing aids against damage, and have a backup power source for them if the batteries ever die while I’m fighting villains or helping in a rescue.”

Silence.

“Bakugo?”

“...you mean to tell me those stupid headphones you wear actually have a purpose?”

Hizashi laughed out loud. “Excuse you, but those things are the height of fashion and function. At least that’s what Hage pays me to say.”

Was that a flicker of a smile Hizashi saw on Bakugo’s face? He decided not to press his luck by asking. Instead he said, “Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Bakugo chewed his lower lip a bit. Another beat of silence passed, and then he finally grumbled, “A while.”

“I’d ask you why you didn’t say anything sooner, but I already know why.”

“Screw you.”

“So you’ve noticed some symptoms?”

“...yeah. It mostly started as ringing.”

“Started?”

“Yeah, it’s worse now. Now sometimes people will just...cut out when they’re talking to me. If I’m not looking directly at them, I miss what they say.”

“And I’m not gonna ask you to learn lip-reading just to get by in English class. It’s a pain, trust me.”

“You can read lips?”

“Yep. I sign too. Since I went through a chunk of my life not being able to hear anything, it can be a little overwhelming. I sometimes take them out when I’m at home. Or in a boring staff meeting.”

That one actually got Bakugo to laugh. Or snort, really. But at least it was something other than confusion or fury.

Hizashi smiled and said, “But you’ve been able to hear your entire life, and if it’s caught early, you might not need as elaborate a set-up as mine.” He took a business card from his back pocket and held it out to Bakugo. “This is for a woman named Nanama Sakakibara. She’s one of the best audiologists in Japan. I want you to think about seeing her. Also, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure that your explosions are what’s damaging your hearing, so maybe think about hitting up Power Loader for some ear protection in that costume of yours.”

Bakugo gave him a stiff nod, but eyed the card like it might bite him. He flicked his glance back up to Hizashi’s. “Do I have to take it?”

Hizashi’s smile morphed into a cat-like grin, and he said, “No, of course you don’t have to. I can always keep it to give to your mom when I set up an emergency parent-teacher conference to discuss your near-failing English grade.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at him, then silently snatched the card from Hizashi’s hand. “You’re a dick,” he grumbled.

Hizashi merely smiled wider and picked up his headphones, sliding them back into place over his ears. He slipped back into his announcer voice and said, “I’m a dick because I care, sparky.” He gave Bakugo a double finger-gun, and added, “Now amscray before Eraser gets suspicious about why you aren’t at training yet.”

Bakugo began to move toward the door. Hizashi found it pretty promising when he didn’t immediately shove the card into his pocket, with his incomplete assignment.

When Bakugo reached the door, he stopped, one hand on the door frame, his shoulders tense and his head ducked down.

A beat of silence.

Then: “Thanks or whatever.”

And suddenly Bakugo was gone.

Hizashi shook his head. The gratitude was more than he’d expected. At least it was better than holes blown in the walls.

#hizashi yamada #present mic #katsuki bakugo #deaf mic #deaf bakugo #shouta aizawa #my hero academia #mha #fanfic

[angels17324]

The Violet Paladin (Keith x Reader) Ch. 3

Word Count: 1655 Update Schedule: Every Monday [Masterlist] [Prev]

Only what seemed to be a few minutes passed before Allura came back in what seemed to be battle armor. She seemed a lot more confident, whatever Coran took her to see must have helped a lot.

"You six paladins were brought here for a reason. The Voltron lions are meant to be piloted by you, and you alone," she said. "We must fight and keep fighting until we defeat Zarkon. It is our destiny. Voltron is the universes only hope. We're the universes only hope."

"We're with you princess," Shiro said everyone nodded in agreement. She leads us to another room that had six pods which each had a suit matching the color of our Lion's, I walked to the Violet one and smiled looking at it. Everyone said their own praise of the suits. "Time to suit up everyone," Shiro said.

We each took our suit and changed into them, they seemed to fit everyone perfectly. We looked like a real team now. After we all approached a bench with five objects that looked the same, they all seemed to match a paladin, except for Shiro there wasn't one for him.

"These are called bayards, they are the traditional weapon used by the paladins of Voltron," The five present bayards floated up and went to their respective paladins, "It takes a distinct shape for each paladin."

Hunks turned into a large canon, which he dropped at first surprised by the weight but soon got the hang of it.

Keith's turned into a sword and his suit created a shield, he looked like a knight, someone who'd run off and save a damsel in distress.

Lances became a laser gun, he was a bit too happy to get it.

Pidge's turned into a small blade.

"Awe its so cute," Lance smirked laughing. Pidge glared and hit him with it, it electrocuted Lance.

"Yeah, it is pretty cute," She smirked.

I looked down at mine which took the appearance of a recurve bow and arrows that looked to be made out of energy.

"Shiro, I'm afraid we lost your Bayard with its original paladin," Allura explained.

"I guess I'll just have to make do without,"

"You'll need to retrieve the Red lion from Sendak's ship,"

"That's a pretty big ship, how are we going to find it?"

"It's not a matter of 'we' it's a matter of you," Pidge smiled.

"Pidge is right. Once we get you in you'll be able to feel its presence and track it down," Hunk explained.

"Like what happened when we went to get my lion and I fell through the hole I just kinda knew she was there," I said.

"Yeah, remember that crazy energy you felt in the desert?" Lance asked.

"Yeah. You made fun of me for that,"

"Still proud of that, but it's exactly like that mumbo jumbo," Lance smirked.

"Keith, remember the Red Lion is extremely temperamental. You'll have to earn its respect," Allura explained

Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder, "Alright, here's our plan of attack, The galra only know that we have the Yellow and Blue Lions, but they don't know that we have the Violet and Green Lions too. So Hunk, Lance, you two will act as decoys pretending to give yourselves up. While Sendak is distracted, Keith, Pidge and I will sneak onto the ship with the Green Lion, Keith and I will find the Red Lion while Pidge guards our exit. (Y/n) You'll be on standby waiting for Lance and Hunks signal. Then the three of you will have to find some way to take down that Ion cannon," I was a little disappointed that I would only start on standby but also kind of thankful because I don't entirely know how to fly my lion yet.

"Pidge, what's your ETA?"I could hear over the intercom, I was hiding my lion behind a moon while watching Lance and Hunk approach the ship.

"We just made it onto the ship," She told him.

I watched for a few minutes as Hunk and Lance evaded a blast from the ship.

"(Y/n)!" I heard Lance shout as my cue, I flew out to help them attack the ship. I had attacked the smaller ships that tried to chase after Hunk while he was attempting to break the force field around the cannon, it almost seemed useless until it finally broke, he rammed his lion into it. We had succeeded everywhere so far except for the Red Lion. As soon as I started to worry about them the Red Lion burst through the ship.

"You guys made it!" Hunk cheered.

"Kitty Rose has left the stage!" Pidge said.

"Let's get the heck out of here!" Lance called. We cheered and all flew back to Arus and into the hangar where the Black Lion was supposed to be, We landed the five lions and watched as they all roared, a door opened revealing the Black Lion, it was larger than all the others and seemed more intimidating. The Black Lion thankfully accepted Shiro as its Paladin and the six of us flew out of the castle landing at the edge of the barrier.

The Galra ship was already fixed and sent a blast from the Ion cannon, we were shielded by the particle barrier but the pressure from the blast was almost overwhelming.

"I can give you cover with the castle's defenses for a while but you have to form Voltron and quickly!" Allura said.

After a second blast, Shiro spoke up. "Listen up Team Voltron! The only way to succeed is to give it all you got! This looks bad, but we can do this. Are you with me?" He asked. I nodded.

"I nodded did everyone else?" Hunk asked.

"Yes," I called out blandly along with the others.

"Let's do this!" Shiro shouted

"Uh, how?" Lance asked as we all rushed onto the battlefield.

"Good question, does anyone have any ideas of how to form Voltron?" Shiro asked.

"I don't see a "Combine into giant robot" button anywhere on my dashboard." Hunk said, all our lions continued to run while being shot at. Why did we even rush out without a plan?

"This is insane! Can't they cease fire for one minute so we can figure this out!" She complained. She attacked two of the ships.

"We've gotta do something!" Keith shouted.

"Combine!" Hunk yelled hitting Keith's lion, knocking it into mine.

"Hey!" We both shouted at Hunk.

"Okay, that didn't work." Hunk said. We all began to run again.

"Quickly Paladins, our energy levels are getting low!" Allura warned.

"Maybe if we fly in formation we will just combine," Shiro suggested. "Take off on my cue, One, two three. Voltron!" Everyone flew up, but it wasn't working, I felt like all hope was lost when we started to pull together. I looked up to see we were caught in a tractor beam.

"Sendak's ship is sucking us in like a black hole!" Pidge shouted.

"We can't let him get the lions!" I shouted. He fired another shot at the castle, which broke the shield.

"I don't care what you-you say, Shiro, I'm panicking now!" Hunk yelled.

"This can't be the end!" Pidge shouted.

"This is it," Lance exclaimed.

"It's been an honor flying with you guys," Keith said.

"We can't give up!" I practically pleaded.

"She's right! We have to believe in ourselves. We're the universes only hope! Everyone is relying on us. We can't fail, we won't fail! If we work together, we will win together!" I could feel it, it was like a spark then I knew we had connected.

"Yeah!" We all cried out. I could feel it the six lions were pulled together and formed Voltron. We had blocked the cannon from firing on the castle again. We began attacking the ship taking it apart and destroying it completely until it was decimated. The joy I had felt while watching the ship crumble was overwhelming. We disbanded Voltron and flew back to the castle and met Allura and Coran on the steps.

"Good work Paladins!" Allura congratulated us. I slide off my helmet only to realize how sweaty I had gotten from that fight.

"Thanks, pretty lady," Lance began flirting with Allura again.

"We did it," Shiro smiled. I stood next to Pidge and smiled at her.

"Heck yeah, we did," Keith smiled he has a really nice smile if only he'd smile more.

"How did we do it?" Shiro asked.

"I was just like screaming the whole time. Maybe that did it?" Hunk tried to explain. Pidge put her glasses back on.

Shiro came and place a hand on her shoulder. "We're not going to stop searching until we find your brother, and father. Wherever they are I know they'd be proud of you," He said.

"We won the battle but the war is just getting started," Allura told us. "I'm afraid Zarkon won't stop until he has these lions,"

"Good thing you paladins know what you're doing because you're going to have to form Voltron again and again,"

"Totally," Hunk smiled then realized what Coran said. "Wait, what?" We all shared nervous glances.

"We barely survived forming Voltron this one time,"

"Oh, and you only had to fight a single ship, imagine a whole fleet!" He burst out. "It's not going to be easy being the defenders of the universe,"

Everyone's eyes widen slightly realizing the title we now all share.

"Defenders of the universe huh?" Shiro smiled. "It has a nice ring to it," He looked out at the lions.

To think this whole adventure started because I joined Pidge on the roof, who knew what kind of trouble we'd get into and what people we'd meet along the way. Frankly, I couldn't wait! I'm both excited and nervous for the long journey ahead and I hope we can make it back to earth.

[Next]

Tag list~

@somebodytouchedmysaeran @ittie-bittie-tittie

#keith kogane #the violet paladin #keith x reader #Aliens #Voltron #lance mcclain #vld #Reader Insert #romance #takashi shirogane #hunk #katie holt #blue lion #red lion #yellow lion #green lion #black lion #violet lion #allura #coran #angels1732

[corpus-chorus]

A dev’s insight to tumblr’s updates

Alright guys. I’m sorry to make this long-ass discourse post when I’d really much rather just be doing my art reblogs and basking in my warm community, but I feel this needs to happen, because a lot of you may not be aware of what goes into updates like this.

To be clear - I’m not making any comment about the color change itself. It doesn’t actually bother me, seems kind of silly to flip a lid about when there’s plenty of extensions to fix it if you don’t like it, but I get the annoyance of having something familiar change into something that makes you uncomfortable, especially with no warning.

But then I started to see a bunch of rants on how shitty this update is when there were so many bugs that needed to be fixed instead, and I just need to take a moment to address app development in general, because y’all seem fairly misinformed about the whole thing.

So let’s get one thing straight - bug fixing is not easy.

Yeah, that sounds like a copout, doesn’t it?

But let’s talk about how bug fixing works, alright? Because there’s a couple of things we gotta look at when considering changes like this.

How much code is needed to fix the bug? Yeah, this one’s pretty straight forward, right? How many lines of code do the devs have to write to fix whatever’s broken? Except you’re forgetting the time it takes to find the bug in the first place. And this isn’t about popping into one file and looking through the lines until you see what’s broken. Bugs aren’t just typos. Bugs are NOT easy to find. Generally, if I’m working on a bug, and it takes me 4 days to fix, 3 of those days were probably spent just defining exactly where the bug came from and the places it exists. And that’s with me being super familiar with the codebase. If I didn’t already know that the core value displayed on the groupings page was coming from the hciReplacements inspector (out of 30-some inspectors), which is pulling data from the hagi, which is pulling and calculating data from the clip model, of which I know the exact layout, it probably would have taken me double or triple that time. And now, on top of that, what if the bug is an extreme edge case no one thought about when they built the core code? I might have to rewrite the entire functionality of the thing that pulls all that data, and holy hot hell is that gonna take some time.

How much QA effort is required? Contrary to popular belief, no, developers don’t just make bug fixes and immediately push them out to the app. It’s gotta be tested, usually by some sort of QA/QC team. And, fun fact, QA can take longer than the development did. Because the QA team is looking for EVERY POSSIBLE USE CASE of the exact thing you’re working on. Every single possible way a user might interact with that. That takes a skilled worker to think of all of those possible use cases (and spoiler alert, they’re human, so they still fuck up sometimes), and it takes them time to find them all.

But ON TOP of that, you also have a LOT of unexpected consequences to code changes. Maybe you just needed to update to cores count so that it’s the total cores on a node instead of total cores per processor, but you didn’t realize that another part of the code was assuming that value was cores per processor, and congrats, you’ve screwed the values all through the rest of the app.

And that’s just a data example. You can make critical errors if, say, you rename a value, and miss one of the places that value’s used, so now that value doesn’t exist in that specific scenario, and congratulations, you’ve actually caused your app to crash if the user follows a specific series of actions, and oops, looks like that set of actions wasn’t one QA thought of, so now users get to find it instead. You were just trying to fix a little data bug, and you’ve now broken the entire app. Good job.

How old is the codebase? Why is this important, you ask? Well, if you’re not in the industry, you may have never been introduced to the idea of “legacy code”. Legacy code is, to over-simplify, old code. It’s code that’s been around for a while. It’s code that dozens of people have had their hands in and is therefor a bit of a mess, no matter how hard you try to keep it clean, or how well organized your team is. Because maybe Eric built that one file really well to start with, and Suzy made some great additions to it, and Tom just made a few bug fixes, but he names variables a little differently, so Jason didn’t realize that the function he needed already existed when he went to build it a few months down the line, so now there’s two versions of the same thing, one used in one place, one used in another, and when Meredith goes to fix a bug related to it, she doesn’t realize she has to fix it both places, and wow, that is a bit of a mess, isn’t it?

The codebase I’m working in currently is about a year and a half old now, maybe a little more. When our first version was released, our codebase was 51,714 lines of code long. As of today, it is 357,932 lines long. With new features on the horizon, it will continue to grow, and the web of dependencies tangled through the codebase will get bigger and more complex. This is just a fact.

So keep in mind that that’s an app that’s about 1.5 years old. Tumblr was launched in, what, 2007 or something? That’s 11 years. 11 fucking years of coding, of dozens, if not hundreds, of people contributing to the codebase, in their own coding style, with their own knowledge levels. This is like if a team of 100 writers was working on a fic series for 11 years, and they didn’t all get to work together, and not everyone took notes. You’re gonna have plot holes. You’re gonna have inconsistencies. Shit’s gonna be messy.

And then there’s the pinnacle question. 

How much do the devs care? How much you wanna bet a lot of the devs on this site started out with a genuine passion for it? How many do you think worked long past the hours they were getting paid for just to make sure they were making something they could be proud of? How excited do you think it used to make them to release new features, and get to see it make people’s lives better?

When you care about a project, you think beyond the exact task you were given. You think about the impact every line of code you write is going to have. on the users. Because you want the users to enjoy the app. You want them to be happy with it. You want all the work you put into it to mean something.

When you care, you make less bugs. When you care, you don’t get lazy and just make temporary fixes. When you care, you put your heart and soul into your work.

How much heart and soul do you think the Tumblr devs want to put into this site at this point? When every single update, every single effort they put in, is met with criticism and hatred? When they’re told that nothing they do is ever good enough? How much do you think the devs care about getting everything perfect and on time and working themselves to tears on this site when they know damn well that the second they release an update, it’s going to be met with nothing but hatred and ignorant people treating them as if their hundred of hours of effort were stupid?

If I was a dev for this site, I’d hate my fucking job.

So let’s review. When you ask for bug fixes, I promise, there is someone on that team very concerned about addressing that bug fix. When you complain that tags are borked, or searching is shit, or whatever you get frustrated with that day, I promise, some dev is already working their tits off trying to find exactly what it’s going to take to fix that for you.

But understand that, that ask? That ask that might seem super simple and straight-forward to you from your comfortable couch? But it might take a team of devs working ungodly hours for months to be able to do. It might carry risks as high as accidentally deleting posts or banning blogs or breaking the entire bloody site. So they wanna spend some time and get that shit right so that you’re not stuck with something even worse than the bug they were fixing.

The people working on these bug fixes are human beings. We seem to remember that about everyone else in the goddamn world, but not the people who work tirelessly to give us the very site that we’re having these conversations on right now.

This update? Yeah, it might seem trivial to you. It might seem like they’re “wasting their time” with “stupid bullshit” when they could be fixing bugs.

But let me make it very clear. They’re trying to fix the bugs. They’re trying to stop the porn bots (and oh, fucking boy, I could make an entire post just about how insanely difficult that is, because some of you people seem to think the devs are fucking GODS or something). And maybe this update is stupid to you, but I can tell you right now, having this update right here is not the reason these things are not going to be fixed tomorrow. This is the frontend team making an aesthetic change - I promise it didn’t stop the backend team from their tireless work to fix the tags.

so tl;dr Fixing Tumblr’s bugs is not some simple, do-it-in-a-month, just-get-more-devs fix. And tearing into this release is doing nothing but reminding the probably very tired dev team that their work means absolutely dick to a large portion of ungrateful fucks on this site.

Complain about bugs. Tell Tumblr about their bugs. Make sure they know. And then sit the fuck down and wait - they’re fucking trying.

#i'm sorry #i know this is so long and obnoxious #please ignore it if you don't care #i just needed to get this shit off my chest #hopefully it's informative to some people #tumblr #tumblr update #tumblr discourse #tumblr blue #tumblr staff #long post #discourse

[plague-of-insomnia]

What do you think is the best part about writing?

Hi, Anon! Thank you so much for the ask! 💕

Wow, I don’t know if anyone has actually asked me this question so I’ll start off with my least favorite part (the worst part), and that has to be anything marketing related. Unfortunately, as an independent author (or someone who publishes with smaller firms), a lot of the marketing falls to you. But even if you want to nab an agent (and bigger publishers) you still have to write treatments/synopses of your book in order to query. And I hate doing that with a passion. So much so I decided I’ll do it after I finish my first drafts from now on and just update it as the story changes in revision because then the whole thing is fresh in my mind.

Everything else, honestly? I love more or less. I’m a professional writer who knew I wanted to write from before I had even learned. I’ve been making up stories since I was a toddler, basically, lol. I really enjoy research and can easily get sucked into the “research black hole” if I’m not careful, and I’ve also worked as a professional editor so I don’t even mind revision or proofing (like some people do) and it can even be relaxing to shift into another gear.

But, honestly, if I have to truly pick the one part of writing I like best, it would be the actual writing.

I know a lot of writers moan and groan about it but honestly, it’s what I live for and I feel restless and agitated if I’m not able to write for various reasons.

I can easily get carried away in the process and lose track of time (not to mention everything going on around me). I’m a really good multitasker, but sometimes when I’m writing the world fades away and ceases to exist and it drives my husband mad sometimes, especially bc I have to get things down at least in “sketch” form or I’ll forget.

I’m not necessarily a prolific writer (I know some people who can pop out a novel a month!), but I can be a productive writer if all the cards align properly. I think with my first novel (granted, that was before I got sicker with my chronic illness) I was able to do as much as 18,000 words a day. That may not seem like a lot, but put it in perspective: NaNoWriMo gives you a goal of ~2000 words per day, and a novel is about 75,000 words (or more). It was insane.

I generally don’t like to think in terms of word count until the final stage. I do tend to be someone who writes long things, though. And I do still get stuck sometimes, often with things like “should I start with this event or this event”? Or “I’m not sure how I can get from point C to D!” (I was actually stuck for months on one project because of this.) So having someone I can brainstorm with can grossly increase my productivity and overal production speed. It’s one reason I’m confident that Where Demons Hide can have regular, consistent updates, bc I probably would have already gotten stuck on some plot points if it hadn’t been for @luci-on-the-moon throwing out her own ideas and bouncing stuff back and forth.

I do struggle a lot with the “middle” of books and plotting isn’t always my strong suit. I tend to try to work on what I’m inspired by at the moment, which can mean a lot of little scene pieces I need to reassemble later. But I find this way I’m able to be more consistently productive, even if it means doing some re-writing later on (just saves me some revision time later!), rather than sitting there stuck because I’m not “seeing” how a particular scene will turn out.

But I’m definitely happiest if I’m able to write every day, even if it’s only a few hundred words and even if it’s just a little drabble for myself that no one will ever read but me, because in the end I write stuff I want to read so I have stuff to read when I can’t write 😂.

I hope that answered your question, Anon! 🥰

#my answers #ask chie #writing #my writing process

[lunaschild2016]

Worth Fighting For: Chapter 82 - Wicked Game

Rating M ( Language, Violence, There will be smut, Angst, Tragedy, Romance, Fluff)

@kenzieam  @pathybo  @jaihardy @every-jai@ericdauntless@beautifulramblingbrains @bookgirlthings@jojuarez26@oddsnendsfanfics @offroadinjandals@singingpeople@iammarylastar @irasancti @captstefanbrandt@clublulu333@fuckthatfeeling @tigpooh67 @ex-bookjunky  @jughead-wuz-here wuz-here@badassbaker@beanzjellly@beltz2016@meganbee15@affabletimelady@scorpio2009@gylisaa@geekybeyondallreason@violetsonthelam@kyloswarstars@emmysrandomthoughts @kgurew @beltzboys2015-blog@slytherin-princess-25273@whatwouldbuffydo666@jaiboomer11@holamor@wealwayskeepfighting @original46

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**I promise I have put the read more option in but it has been glitching. If I have forgotten someone or you want to be removed please message me!**

Chapter 82 - Wicked Game

 Eric

 “They are moving Marcus Eaton to long-term care,” Max said from the other side of the conference table. The statement draws a variety of reactions from the other leaders around us. Most of them are scowls of disgust and I can hear Victoria muttering about it just being a waste of resources.

 “I thought they said his injuries were mostly healed? Besides the liver damage, but they determined that was due to his years of drinking.” Raze had his arms crossed over his chest and looked to be deep in thought.

 Max grunts his agreement and looks away from the tablet in his hand. “As far as the doctors can tell, his injuries from the attack have healed. The swelling on his brain from the fall he had and the other injuries from the attack, have gone down or healed enough that they removed him from the medically induced coma. He still isn’t waking from it and it has been two weeks.”

 “So, he should be waking up but isn’t and they don’t know why?” James asks slowly with a scowl.

 “Correct. Which is why he is being moved to long-term. He still needs medical attention but not as intensive as it was before. They believe that trauma is the reason for him still being in the coma and they say he could wake up at any time, or never again. Until then I still want to keep a guard posted to the area.”

 I nod in agreement to the guard recommendation and refrain from adding to Victoria's muttered sentiment that he could be monitored just as easily from a prison cell; better yet they could execute him and not deal with it at all anymore.

 I would add that to the suggestions being tossed out there by the others, but I get why Max isn’t pushing for it. There are still so many unanswered questions and if there is a chance that Marcus will pull through to answer for them, he wants to keep it.

 Two months from the trial and things are still turning up. Max and Raze haven’t come out and told me about the investigation into Peter’s dad and his connection to Marcus, but Zach let me in on it. Those two bastards have a lot to answer for, but it is definitely pointing to things being corrupted on much deeper levels in our city.

 I’ve been assigned, along with Chase, to investigate the factionless activity as well as assist Abnegation with cleaning house and securing the sites where the cities goods are stored and produced.

 A week after the trial, when it was announced citywide that Marcus was no longer leader of the government and was in critical condition, a raid on the warehouses was made. No one could say if it happened specifically during that week or even before then, because it seems that there was no real security assigned. There were no regular inspections of the warehouses or inventories done. The ones that were performed all had been signed off on by Marcus himself, but it is apparent there was something off about those few inventories.

 I have been charged with putting together teams to go through those places with a fine-tooth comb and do an inventory of everything. At the same time, we will be shoring up security on the actual structure of the buildings while at the same time have a better security presence there. Before now, we were not allowed to have Dauntless there in an official security position. We could have Dauntless laborers there, but they were there to do the heavy lifting and that was all.

 Factionless activity has become almost nonexistent. To the point, you would think there are no factionless left in the city. We know that isn’t true, but they seem to have places to hole up. It wouldn’t be concerning, given it is winter and there have been several days’ worth of snow that have built up, but the radio silence is nerve-wracking and has me on edge. It feels the calm before the storm and I can’t put my finger on why that is.

 The other leaders seem to think that they are running scared, knowing that Marcus had been lenient on them and allowed them to get away with so much. Now that he is gone, they are afraid that the new government head will allow much stricter treatment and policing. I know that Max has been in talks with Andrew about getting this in place as soon as possible so it could be what has factionless behaving.

 As if all of that wasn’t enough to have on my plate, I still had Erudite. I still had Jeanine breathing down my neck. Max was stonewalling her on hearing out any more to do with Divergents. Without him being on board and seeing them as a real threat, she couldn’t work him on the next part of her plan. The plan to pin Abnegation as the source of divergents and the real threat to the city. A threat that needs to be routed out completely then the city could come together with a stronger and better government. One ran by Jeanine and Erudite of course.

 Max wasn’t hearing it though and while I was glad as hell about that, it was making my life hell. Jeanine was demanding I start finding ways to change his mind, even if I had to make things happen myself. Not to mention that she wasn’t about to let go of the idea that Kat and Tris were the keys to the divergence solution.

 It was hard to play off my relationship to Kat as a means to keep her close, a way to keep my eye on her and get proof of her divergence. Damon’s constant digs at me and the relationship with Kat had me on edge, but I wasn’t about to make the same mistake I had before and take that out on Kat. The first time I had to meet with my brother and Jeanine, I could tell she was scared. She tried to hide it from me, tried to be supportive and strong for me, but I could tell that she was expecting the worst. For me to come back and a repeat of that fight to happen.

 I can admit it had been close. I rode the train for a bit longer then hopped off and tried to walk off some of the bad feelings I had when leaving that meeting. I still couldn’t talk right away when I finally did make it back. I was too afraid to. Afraid I would say something in the wrong tone, not even meaning to or knowing I was doing it, and it would send her into a panic. I could feel her relief when I held her, even if I didn’t talk.

 I could also feel that something else happened that night. Something shifted for us and I think it was trust. Whatever trust I had lost, was back now. She hadn’t said as much so I wasn’t for sure, but I felt it in the way she was resistant to pull away when we kissed. How she hesitated or looked unsure when I would walk her back to her apartment after a date. I was barely holding on myself but as much as I wanted to take her back to the apartment with me, I didn’t. I didn’t even hint at it or ask. I was the one that had to cool things off and Kat was the one that was pushing further. It was getting harder and harder for me to do, but I was determined that it wasn’t going to happen until she said the words. Until she let me know she was ready, and not when we were in the middle of making out, because that girl would say anything in the heat of moment. I couldn’t risk she would regret it once the moment had passed.

 The meeting continues on, assignments being handed out and updates on the status of all the new members.

 My week is shaping up to be a shitty one. The bright spot for me is I know that I will have a date with Kat at the end of it and no matter what is in store, it is worth the crap I have to wade through to get there at the end.

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 I close the door to my apartment then begin the process of unloading my pockets and stripping my boots and jacket off. The tiredness I was feeling as I dragged my ass back into the compound had quickly worn off once I realized what I had going on in just a few hours. My blood is buzzing with anticipation of it.

 After two months of getting together everywhere but the apartment, Kat and I are finally going to be alone here, and it had all been her idea.

 From the day she had pretty much demanded this dinner, I have been in planning and fantasy mode. The disaster of our first date was clear in my mind though. I had learned well from it and every date with her since. I should have known and remembered her pleasure that night on the roof when we had stopped fighting what is between us.

 Looking back, it had been ridiculously simple, a night under the full moon and watching the sunrise with coffee. At the time I had considered it sappy as hell, and maybe to some of the other guys in Dauntless, it would be too. The thing is, I was a hell of a lot happier that night than some of those unlucky bastards that are being carted off to one place or another, spending insane amounts of points and working hard just to show their girls a good time.

 Every date since then has been just the same. Simple things that made not only her happy but me as well.

 I kept that in mind and had decided to just keep it simple. The day before I stocked up the kitchen for whatever we might be in the mood to eat for dinner. I also spent the evening after I got home from work cleaning the apartment from top to bottom. I had been so eager to get things ready, that I now realize I have nothing to do but jump in the shower and get dressed. Then find something to do to kill time until I go to get her.

 Once I have my boots off and in their place by the door, I straighten out and walk further into the apartment. It takes a second, but I realize something is off.

 I hear water running.

 There have been a few water pipe breaks throughout the compound with the freezing temperatures. It was usually the places that are farther from the surface, deeper into the rock that makes up the compound. Though it is usually lower in the compound it has happened higher up.

 “Goddammit.” I mutter angrily as I take big strides towards the noise, praying that it isn’t a busted pipe but figuring that it is just my luck it will be.

 It’s probably my punishment for all the dirty shit I have been fantasizing will happen tonight with Kat. She didn’t come right out and say anything was going to happen between us but with her pushing things further and the obvious frustration she has at the end of our dates, I can imagine that it is bound to happen.

 I get closer and the sound of water gets stronger. My scowl deepens so I pick up my steps. Another sound hits my ears just before I get to the door of the bathroom.

 A moan. Soft and faint but one I would know fucking anywhere.

 My feet slide slightly once they hit the tile of the bathroom and I almost trip over them when I try to restart the walk I had been in the middle of trying to suddenly stop. My mind shuts down and my eyes go wide while I take in the sight before me.

 My shower was a luxury I indulged when renovating the apartment. It had been a shitty one before with hardly any water pressure and was small as hell. I could barely fit into the tiny shower stall and it was impossible to move without banging my elbows against the dingy tiled wall.

 I solved that by blowing out the small room that was supposed to be a second bedroom and made it part of the bathroom. That allowed me to make myself a large shower, completely glassed in and with enough pressure coming out of the wall and ceiling shower heads to clean even the filthiest factionless out there. Because the glass went from floor to ceiling it also allowed it to steam up really good, which was the main reason I went with that design.

 I love steam baths.  

 I hadn’t cared a bit about how it looked and if it was pretty or not, so I went with grey slate over the entire thing. Even the bench I had made inside of it was covered in the same grey slate. All I cared about was the functions that I wanted to indulge in, my one true frivolous thing I allowed myself.

 Later, this damn shower became the best part of my fucking day. When I got Kat to myself, with my hands all over her and the rest of Dauntless, along with all the crap going on in our lives, went away.

 There during the height of initiation and when we barely had time to see each other; this was my refuge and where I found peace.

 A soft moan sounds again, bringing my mind back to the here and now. Kat stands under the rain shower head with her back slightly to me. Her face is turned up to the water and her eyes are closed in a blissful expression.

 My heart speeds up so much I can feel the blood pumping through my veins. I don’t speak or move, fearing this is an illusion and anything will make it disappear. I lick my lips in a mouth gone dry and let myself absorb everything.

 She doesn’t know I am here, probably wasn’t expecting me, and it makes me feel like a perv standing here watching her like I am with my hand hovering near where my dick is trying to pitch a tent in my pants.

 Kat lowers her head, reaches out her hands and cups them to gather water, then brings them to let the water fall over her breasts. A groan tears through me at that and I shuffle slightly.

 A soft chuckle comes from her and she looks over her shoulder at me, that devious smile and sparkle in her eyes. I narrow my eyes at her but don’t speak. She bites her lower lip and turns more fully to face me, her hands stroking up her body starting from her thighs up to her breasts. She cups them in her hand, her head falling back a little and watching me through eyes glazed over with lust.

 Even as the lust ramps up in me I still try to hold on to that pledge that we won’t go there until she says the words. Despite the fact that all the blood in my body seems to be pulsing in my cock, my brain has a few cells firing.

 When I heard water running there hadn’t been a thought that it would be anyone taking a shower in my apartment. The only person that would even do something like that would be Kat and I had just had a message from her when I was rolling back into the compound. One that said she would see me later that night.

 No, she said she would see me as planned.

 I watch her taking each of her hardened nipples between fingers before tweaking them all while watching and teasing me with that damn smile on her face.

 As planned, but it wasn’t the plan we had talked about before, it was one she came up with on her own. She planned this and timed it, so I would find her like this when I got home.

 A growl rumbles through my chest when her grin gets wider while moving one hand down between her legs slowly and I drop my pants then rip my shirt and vest off.

 Fuck it. That’s good enough for me. Who needs words when actions speak louder.

 ****************************************************************************************************

 Kat pulls back from our kiss with a sigh and lays her head on my chest. Her hair is still slightly damp from our shower that ended before either of us bothered with any kind of soap. I let my head fall back onto the pillow of the bed but don’t release her hair from my grasp.

 She hums in contentment as I use gentle pressure from my fingers to massage her scalp but otherwise it is quiet. I look out the window of my bedroom and see that the sun is just starting to set. The red of the dying light melting into the various shades of darker colors that will soon be inky black.

 I turn my head and look at the digital clock on one of the nightstands and see that it is just about dinner time.

 “You hungry?” I murmur the question into her hair as I lift my head and press a kiss to the top of hers.

 “Mmm,” She sighs and runs her hand over my chest, then raises her head and looks at me with a smile. “I could eat.”

 Despite her words and the rumble from her stomach that followed them, she made no move to get up from where we are sprawled out on the bed. She just turns her face down and brushes her nose against my skin.

 I jerk and let out a startled gust of breath when her teeth graze across my nipple. “Shit.” I exclaim and go to pull her up and away while she giggles.

 She doesn’t resist as I roll us so that I am covering her with my body and claiming her mouth in a kiss. I pull back after a few minutes and marvel that even with how spent we both are, my dick is still trying to rise to the occasion.

 I pull away and give her a playful smack on the ass when she follows me up to her knees on the bed. Our discarded clothes are still on the bathroom floor, so I pull out my boxers and gather up the rest of the crap, then go to toss them in the laundry hamper. When I open it up I see that Kat’s clothes are sitting in there already.

 I bite my lip and let my shit drop then head out of the bathroom. She has already vacated the bed and I hear rustling from the kitchen area, so I head out there. I stifle the groan when I find her bent over with her head in the fridge and my shirt she is wearing riding up and exposing her being naked beneath.

 “Why don’t you get a shower and I can take care of dinner.” I offer with a little more force than I meant to.

 She pulls her head out of the fridge but has her hands full of things wearing a grin. “Why bother taking one now?” She shrugs and puts her items on the counter then walks over to wrap her arms around my neck.

 My hands go to her waist and I pull her flush against my body before leaning down and brushing my lips against hers.

 “If I remember correctly, someone is on a kitchen strike again.” I murmur against her lips.

 “Exceptions can be made. Besides, I didn’t say I was going to do anything more than assist.” She sasses back to me before she kisses me.

 We spend the next few minutes doing absolutely no cooking but a lot of kissing. Ending with her slightly perched on the counter and her legs wrapped around my waist. We finally break away after our stomach give synchronized grumbles.

 Kat is once again on solid ground but standing beside me as I survey the items she has pulled out. My lips are tugging at the sides at her predictable choices and I try to give her a scowl but really, I could give a shit less that she has gone with. I wouldn’t have gotten the shit, but I knew how much she loved it.

 Lynn is right, I am whipped when it comes to Kat.

 “What?” She asks with a shrug and wide eyes. “If you didn’t want to make that you shouldn’t have gotten the stuff for it. You had to know I was going to go for it.” She says simply and looks away from me with a sniff as she takes a cookie sheet from the cabinet and starts arranging the chicken nuggets on it.

 I shake my head, not even bothering to argue, then start to work on the mac and cheese and mashed potatoes.  

 We fall into talking about work as we stand beside each other in the kitchen working on dinner. Preparation of the simple dinner doesn’t take long and I am running through things in my mind to drag the process, along with our night, out. It is on my mind to get her to stay the night, but I don’t know if that would be pressing things too far.

 I don’t want to fuck things up when they have been going well so far.

 Kat starts to set the table for us, pouring drinks and getting cutlery out while I put the finishing touches to the scratch made mac and cheese.

 “I was thinking we could watch the first couple of movies in that series Lynn suggested. I didn’t know if you had it, but Lynn had to go with Max to Erudite a few days ago and picked the entire series up. I brought them and a few others with me.”

 Kat says from where she is moving around in the dining area. I raise an eyebrow and smirk but inside I can feel nothing but pleased that she is suggesting this.

 “The Jigsaw series?” I ask as that occurs to me and I frown searching my memory if there are any fucking clowns in that shit.

 “Yeah, that’s the one but I brought a few others if we aren’t in the mood for gore.”

 I snort and shake my head. “Gore isn’t a problem. I was more worried about there being a clown in there that I don’t remember.”

 I can see her shudder from the kitchen and she let out a sigh. “Well, if there is one I guess it will be a good thing that I will have you to keep me from waking up ready to attack something in my sleep tonight.”

 I nod absentmindedly, carrying the bowls of food over to the table when it hits me what she said. I set the bowls down and clear my throat, praying I sound casual and that I am not grinning like the lunatic I am feeling like at the moment.

 “So, you are planning on staying the night?”

 She was just sliding into her chair and looks up at me with a frown, then blushes and looks uncertain. “Is that okay? I mean I know we didn’t talk about it or plan for that but I just…”

 I stop her by leaning down and kissing her soundly. Happiness coursing through me and pouring into the kiss. Never breaking the kiss, I get seated and scoot her closer to me so that she isn’t quite in my lap but close enough.

 “It’s more than fucking okay, angel. It’s perfect.” I reply in a rasp when we finally end the kiss only to lazily continue the kiss and brushing of our lips against each other.

 The rest of the night is perfect.

 Even with me vetoing the Jigsaw movie because the main villain is way too close to one for my liking. Instead we went with the Alien series even though Kat protested and said she was up to trying the first one.

 I wasn’t.

 I had no desire to roll the dice on what it might trigger for her.

 By the time the third movie was rolling on the vid screen we were both more than half asleep and decided to call it a night. Getting ready for bed was simple since neither of us bothered to get dressed after our earlier activities. She was still wearing my shirt and I was still in my boxers.

 Her clothes that I had gotten with my brothers so long ago still stayed in the apartment along with the toiletries and toothbrush, so she had things to wear to bed and tomorrow already. We brush our teeth beside each other but didn’t bother to put on nightclothes. In fact, I watched with a satisfied smile as she lifted my shirt off of her and got into bed completely naked.

 I love that she still blushes even now, especially when it combines with her hungry look as I drop my boxers. When her body is tangled with mine as we are exhausted after another round and the hunger we have for each other is taken care of, I can’t help my own contented sigh. I am already dreading tomorrow night because I know there is a chance she won’t want to do this again.

 “Eric,” Kat whispers into the night and her breath tickling my skin. “I’m not moving in,” she pauses in speaking as if weighing her words and my reaction. I tense up and grit my teeth wanting to protest this but restrain myself enough to let her continue. “But I wouldn’t mind doing this again. I really liked tonight.”

 I tighten my arms around her and brush my lips against her forehead as I let out a breath of relief mixed with disappointment. “I did too, kitten.” I stop and collect myself to answer her. “I can live with that arrangement,” I answer with a small shrug of my shoulders.

 For now.

 I finish that sentence in my mind and wonder how far I can push it. Was it technically moving in if she slept over every night?

 Nope, but I plan on finding out if she feels that way.

 ****************************************************************************************************

 I sat with Chase and Raze around a table in control. Files spread out among us and all of us wearing identical scowls.

 It has been five months since the investigation of Marcus Eaton resulted in him being ousted. Something that didn’t matter in the end since he was attacked and lapsed into a coma that he still hasn’t woken from.

 Since then the factionless activity that we are used to dropped to zero. There were still factionless around, but they were much fewer than usual. It was a hard winter with heavy snowfall and storms that lasted for days on end it seemed. A drop in activity was normal for this time of year anyways and especially during weather like we have had. Usually, there are a good number of factionless that seek out shelter at the volunteer center but this year the numbers were far fewer than years past.

 Then there are all the results pouring in about and the state of their security from the warehouses and factories that provide all the goods for the city. Security breaches, security risks, and major discrepancies of both the inventory and projected output riddle the reports in front of us.

 The information is so conflicting but also extremely worrying and it is leaving us at a crossroads.

 “I don’t see any other way. We need to get more information and to do that we need someone inside the factionless. Interrogating them isn’t getting us anywhere.” Chase repeats the conclusion we had all reached a while ago but had been trying to avoid following through with.

 I sigh and rub the back of my neck. “Well, he isn’t going to arrange this if I ask him to, and we decided not to get Kat involved in this part of the investigation because she is already working overtime with the shit on Candor.” I grumble and squint my eyes as my mind works to come up with someone, anyone other than Four, to have to go to for this next favor.

 “Come on, you guys aren’t nearly as bad as you used to be.” Zach cajoles me with a growing smirk on his face. “Who would have thought you would be having Four over for dinner at your apartment? I still can’t believe it and I know it happened.”

 I glare at him and shift uncomfortably in my seat. “It doesn’t make us friends or anything and you should know that since you were there as well. Did it look like we wanted to be at that table together?”

 “Nah, honestly it looked like the two of you were trying to hold in massive shits.” Zach says in laughter, recalling the tense ‘family’ dinner Kat had insisted on holding when she had learned that it was Christmas Eve, the first one the two sisters could celebrate openly.

 I hadn’t minded that they wanted to celebrate by having dinner together, but I had thought more along the lines of it being us all sitting together at a table in the dining hall.

 Nope.

 They wanted to do it right and that meant cooking everything themselves. That also meant that they needed a place big enough to have everyone; and out of everyone’s apartments mine had fit the bill.

 The only good thing to come out of that was that I got some major bargaining leverage with Kat to agree to it, and I had control over certain aspects.

 Like vetoing any fucking gaudy and obnoxious decorations, telling everyone there wouldn’t be any stupid Santa based games, and I would throw anyone out on their asses at the drop of the hat if they were doing something I didn’t like.

 The downside was that there was way more people in my personal space than I felt even remotely comfortable with. I got saddled with making the turkey and roast. And I hadn’t been able to get away from decorations or party games completely.

 Mar had gone to Jester and Cass and came back with a wood cut out in the shape of a Christmas tree with actual lights and decorations hanging from ‘branches’ made from hooks and other things to attach them to.

 The whole night was too festive for my liking, but Kat had been beaming more than the damn tree.

 So, I did my best to not be a complete dick that night and let her have her holiday. My compromise was that the next day, Christmas day, would be just us with a late breakfast with Chase and Zach, who also brought Peter. After that it had just been the two of us though Zach had left us a number of holiday treats and a bunch of holiday movies to binge through. That night we both managed to come up with gifts to exchange, surprising each other since we hadn’t talked about that before.

 I had gifted Kat one of the newest Erudite wrist communicators that had a touch screen and several functions, like being able to store music on it as well as being able to message and get calls to and from on it. Along with that, I had gifted her wireless earbuds. I put in an order for one early on and had hoped to have it for her as a gift for finishing initiation. She loved it and being able to now listen to music while working out without having to worry about carrying around her phone and plugging in the normal earphones.

 She loved it for that purpose, while I loved it because now I had a way to track her ass down should anything ever happen to her. It had a built in GPS program that Chase got set up directly after we got it that only we had access to. We also removed all the other programs that Erudite liked to bury in their tech.

 Kat’s gift had been a surprise and a reminder of that night on the roof when I had suggested I take her camping after she finished initiation. During a trip to Amity with Raze she had picked up some fishing gear that included a fishing rod sturdy enough to handle larger catches, tackle box, a set of knives designed for cleaning and butchering the catches, and a book that she had printed off from Erudite about fishing and the basics. The book was a smart-ass addition to the gift as it was called Fishing For Dummies.

 I had a plan of keeping that date we made on the roof that night, but it would have to wait until it warmed up a lot more.

 Chase and Zach were shuffling papers around, ready for me to acknowledge the inevitable. That I would need to approach Four and arrange for a meet up with Amar. I knew this had more to do with my friendship with Amar and how much his ‘death’ had affected me.

“Eric,” Chase finally spoke up and called my attention to him. “We need to start to get him used to working with you. You know the recent developments in Erudite and that the plan has just been put on hold as far as they are concerned, not canceled. We need more than just the three of us working to stop this. We need him and anyone he can get to help protect Kat and Tris if it comes down to it.”

 I nod with my jaw tight. “Fine. I’ll approach him after New Year’s about meeting up with Amar. One of you are going to need to be there though, because if it is just the two of us…” I trail off and left the rest unsaid.

 Even knowing what is on the table and even with our sort of truce we have going on, I can’t predict how the two of us alone will go over. Especially with the subject Amar on the table.

 Zach nods in agreement, looking as if he has a solution. “We can all go, but it would help to get Zeke there as well. We are going to need to bring him in on this anyways as well, and the sooner the better. Besides already being cleared on the investigation he also knows about a lot of the crap we have been uncovering.”

 “Alright. That sounds like a better approach. Will you set it up with Zeke for him to bring him by the apartment? We know that is a secure place at least.”

 Chase looks surprised for a moment but then lets out a laugh. “Hey. We could say we are having a ‘guys night’ and doing poker or something like that.” He shrugs at my dubious look. “It will look like you two are actually trying to get along but also won’t raise suspicions. It will also give you something to tell Kat. Suggest her and the girls do their night together then.”

 That was something to think about. Most nights Kat was with me at the apartment. She hadn’t technically moved in and I hadn’t pushed that, but she didn’t fight hard when I would convince her to spend the night most nights. The one hard no for her was the nights she sets aside for spending with her sister alone but then also the night all the girls got together. On those nights I usually end up with Chase and Zach anyways, so it wouldn’t be that far of a stretch.

 No way would anyone believe I was the one to come up with that though.

 “Yeah, I am going to have to say you deal with that ploy, Chase. No one is going to go for me suggesting that shit.” I reply flatly.

 “Done.” He agrees with a smirk and way to quickly for my liking letting me know he isn’t planning on it just being a cover but to actually have a poker night.

 I shake my head and decide to pick another battle that is worth my time.

 “Whatever. We got other issues to discuss. What are we going to do about that new simulation serum Erudite is close to perfecting?”

 My brothers get serious and take on grave looks as we address the latest divergent hunting scheme Jeanine and my brother have cooked up.

#fanfiction #divergent fanfiction #eric coulter fanfiction #divergent au #romance #smut #fluff #angst #tragedy #eric coulter #eric x oc #oc #tris #four #jai courtney #chloe moretz #shailene woodley #theo james

[theunderdogwrites]

Ten "Suggestions" For A New World

I was raised in the Roman Catholic faith. Went to church every Sunday with my family from the time I was four until the age of 19. I was baptized, received my first communion and attended CCD classes (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine). And just for fun and out of curiosity, I've read the bible (New Testament) three times. [I want to quickly share with you the meaning of the word "confraternity": 'a lay brotherhood devoted to some purpose, especially to religious or charitable service'. Already its clear women are not really welcome.]

Once I was free to make my own choices, I stopped going to church. To be honest with you, I couldn't hear myself think over the constant propaganda being served to me by an elderly ornery priest wearing a $2500 robe and asking me to kneel at a $10,000 marble alter while attempting to guilt me into giving the church money to help feed the poor. I've never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but I knew something wasn't quite right with this religion. A friend of mine introduced me to the term "recovering Catholic" and I've adopted it as my own.

Do I believe in God? What... a terribly complicated question. In short, yes. In length, I believe in something I can't put my finger on and it has a name. I know I talk to this Universe character a great deal, maybe that’s it? Anyway, the God I believe in... that something with a name I can't accurately put my finger on - is about kindness and compassion, respect, acceptance, tolerance and love. And I mean, for real. Not just because it sounds good in your mouth.

Have you ever looked up the meaning of TOLERANCE?

‘allow the existence, occurrence, or practice of (something that one does not necessarily like or agree with) without interference’

The fact I’ve not yet killed anyone, means I am a highly tolerant being. Ego stroke.

You may have your own opinions and beliefs; in fact, I encourage you to form your own opinions and sift through what you do and don't believe. But let other people find their own way. Be who they are to be and if it's a different path than yours... don't tell them they're going to Hell. All that does is stress Satan right the fuck out.

I was taught to pray from an early age. Kneel down beside the bed at night, make the sign of the cross and talk to God. Ask him to bless the people you love, show compassion for those who wronged you and be thankful for everything you've been given. End with the sign of the cross. Although I no longer kneel at the side of my bed or make the sign of the cross, I do still pray. I've never had an issue with prayer. It's a form of communication and communication is king. Even if you believe no one is listening, it truly does help to just have raw dialogue with yourself.

Have I ever used prayer to help me out of a tough spot? Absolutely.

Have I ever prayed for something and promised something else I knew I most likely wouldn't follow through with? Yes. Have I ever prayed then become angry when things didn't go my way? Definitely.

Have I asked for forgiveness, mercy and wisdom? Yes.

 I'm not ashamed of any of those admissions. But I'm not going to print them on a t-shirt and strut around either. I don't feel I am any different than anyone else when it comes to prayer. Evidence of this are the religious contestants on Survivor who ask God for assistance in winning a million dollars so they may do good with all that money.

Currently, for me, prayer is an open-ended conversation that takes place in my soul. There's yelling and screaming. Blame. Crying and swearing. The launching of projectiles and ever so often... peace, laughter, approval and cookies. There's chaos and harmony and somehow, I manage to cultivate enough intelligence to string together a bunch of words to make a half decent sentences from time to time.

This brings me to: The Ten Commandments. Take a quick gander at this so you can get your bearings:

https://www.bibleinfo.com/en/topics/ten-commandments-list

In a nutshell, these are "God's standards" which he wants you to live by.

Going to confession was the worst. Especially as a typical 15-year-old girl. "I am not telling you shit" was pretty much my life's motto so to expect me to open up to an old priest and share my sins and secret thoughts so he may shame me with a mini lecture and an act of contrition, was insanity.

Every time I went to confession, I used the same three "sins":

I disobeyed my Mother and Father                                  

I took the Lord`s name in vain

I lied

I figured this to be believable for a girl my age. If you look at the commandments, I wasn't going to covet my neighbor`s wife or his ox and I certainly wasn't going to get myself another God to worship considering I already couldn't figure out the one I'd been given. And murder? I probably didn't even know what that meant. I mean, until the guidance counselor at my school pointed out to me what suicide was, I had no idea it was even possible to do that to yourself. I wasn't stupid, but rather innocent. And isn't it funny that it took a person of "authority" whose intentions were being governed by a higher power, to bring those kinds of ideas into my brain where they once didn't exist? Something to ponder.

Let's be honest, the Ten Commandments... as they stand right now in current society... a little outdated, right? Technology is rapidly changing how we communicate and behave. And it's time to modernize in order to keep up. I'm not proposing we abolish the original document. I'm not trying to offend anyone or stamp out their beliefs. I know the Ten Commandments is a sacred collection of words that many believe is straight from the mouth of God. Attempting to rip up or shit on something with that much power over so many people... is suicide. (Look Ms. Foster! I learned another way one can harm themselves other than dragging a razor over one's wrists! Your job wasn't meaningless after all!)

I'm merely proposing that someone (ME ME ME) take a stab at writing up a new set of standards which people (YOU YOU YOU) should SERIOUSLY consider following if they wish to achieve a pleasant after life. And the only person you must believe in - yourself.

The first thing I want to do is change the word "commandments" to "suggestions". It's less aggressive and more light-hearted, even though you're still expected to comply. No one wants to be told what to do, not really, and by "commanding" them in a preachy way to curb behavior... well, you're just asking for trouble. Imagine the success rate if Moses had come down from the mountain and said:

“Hey... hi everyone, look, God spoke to me and mentioned something about these ten suggestions He'd like us to seriously consider if we want to get into Heaven. He was pretty adamant that we pay attention and do our best to not ignore this list. I think He spent a lot of time coming up with this stuff... so we really do owe it to Him to try and give this all we got. Ok, thanks everyone... back to not raping women and making false idols out of gold".

I just feel that by changing the wording and therefore tone of this document - you're not alienating the more cantankerous, free-spirited or stubborn people of the world with a menu of demands you expect them to blindly obey.

The second thing I want to do is provide a brief explanation for each "suggestion". There is nothing worse than treating people as though they don't deserve further information when you'd like them to do something that wasn't their idea. Communication is comforting and reflects respect. You can't say: "Because I told you so" or "Just do it" and expect to be well received. All this is going to get you are responses such as: "You're not the boss of me" and "Go fuck yourself".

So, without further ado, I give to you:

The Ten "Suggestions" For A New World

 Please do not update your Facebook status message more than once a day:  This is a sign of vanity, a deadly sin. And it's really annoying to the point where people secretly want to kill you for repeatedly mugging their news feeds with updates in increments of 32 minutes, on the broad details of your existence. No one actually cares here, on planet Self Absorption.

Please do not kill: This is the only original "commandment" included on this new list because it has stood and always will stand the test of time. There are loads of shitty, stupid, selfish & servile individuals in the world and relieving them of the burden of breathing seems like an all-around great idea, but it's actually a terrible idea. Why? Well, for starters... it's not your place to end a human life. It's just not. Life is special. You - not so much. Plus, it causes debilitating pain for a great many people. When you take someone's life away you create a hole inside the people who love them. This hole can never be filled. It will never get smaller. These people will never heal. They might be able to carry on... eat food again one day, maybe buy a new couch, laugh at a joke - but they will never heal. They will walk around, unhealed and with a hole in their heart till their dying day. Don't make holes in other people.

Please resist from being a complete douche bag: (Traditionally the term 'douche bag' is     usually gender specific and applies to men, but for this  "suggestion" it also applies to women, because women can be douche     bags as well. This does not apply to cats. The lives of cats are based upon douche-baggery, but it's cute and therefore exempt)  Being a total jerk is in your bloodline. Eve was a jerk to Adam. Adam was a jerk to God. The snake was a jerk to Eve. God was a jerk to the dinosaurs. And the dinosaurs were jerks to everyone. So... this  "suggestion" is going to be a difficult one not to fail at from time to time. The idea here isn't to be perfect, because that isn't unachievable. But rather, genuinely compassionate and generous when you see someone who wouldn't benefit from you running your truck into their fence and then driving off like a douche bag coward. And the state of being a douche bag isn't always limited to actions befitting a little scamp, no it can also be in the way you dress (Underwear above the pants line? Come on!) Or how you tell uninterested parties about your drunken antics and the loss of your favorite pair of really expensive shoes. Or  tweeting/texting the person next to you while you're in a group setting. Now you can see why pretty much everyone will be unsuccessful at this "suggestion". We're douche bags.

If  you open a bottle of wine - please finish it: This really shouldn't require much explanation. Drinking two-day old wine is the equivalent of sucking on week old doughnuts. Even hobos understand this concept. If you save your wine, you're stealing food out of the mouth of a grape stomping child. Is that what you want? No. Drink your damn wine already.

Please flush the toilet after you poop / wipe the seat off if you urinate on it: No  list of "suggestions" would be complete without a mentioning of bathroom etiquette because so many people are unable to recognize and execute proper manners in this area. I reckon 74% of the population does not want to see your excrements. And the other 26% need to seek out some counseling. Immediately. Leaving your shit in the toilet for others to    view does not make you regal, it makes you a filthy barnyard animal. And it's not funny or clever. Neither is urine on the seat. And this applies to both men and women. Take ten seconds, grab some toilet paper and WIPE THE SEAT OFF. Your pee is not liquid gold. No one wants to bottle it to sell on eBay or Etsy.

Please do not use social media to draw attention to your drama: This     is a tough one, I know. We all suffer from drama and when we feel severely slighted by the Universe, a person or even a business... we just want to share our pain in hopes of others being able to relate to us and provide some words of comfort. And what better way to reach your 472 "friends" than screaming out on Twitter or rapidly posting about your discomfort on Facebook. But the problem is... you're not actually connecting to anyone. Not really. You can't see their expressions. You can't hear the tone in their voice. And you definitely cannot count on their sincerity if they don't contact you privately and not in an open forum for all to witness. And, it's awkward. Once people see your drama, they can't un-see it. Even if you delete it, you don't get to delete it from their minds. And as a sub-section to this "suggestion" - also try to avoid saying stuff on social media that you wouldn't say to a person's face. This is just a fancier version of talking behind someone's back while doing it in front of their face without them actually realizing that it's being done.

Please do not text and drive: If you own a car you probably spend a     decent amount of time in that car, driving. Probably so much time that it     feels automatic, like blinking.  And because it's automatic you will rarely think about what you're actually doing - operating a 4000-pound killing machine. What is more important than taking your eyes off the road to check in on your game of choice? Or answering that text about where     you're going on your vacation? Your life. The lives of others. (please see "suggestion" number two) Chances are you're already deeply distracted by your real life, there is no reason to add to that list fumbling around with a cellphone so you can tell someone what you thought about last night's episode of Spring Baking Championship (is that just me?).

Please leave your ego at the door: People love confidence; they hate     arrogance. Arrogance is phony. Intimidation and strutting around like an erect penis OR vagina won’t hide the truth - that you’re afraid and maybe a little underwhelming in your own mind.  There is nothing wrong with     having flaws... accepting those flaws... flaunting those flaws. It builds     character. But if you must insist on being an arrogant tool, then you must  also accept that you're not only unhealthy to yourself, you're toxic to     others.

Please do not give others false hope: If someone has posted an ad on     Kijiji or Craigslist - don't express interest and give them a date and time of when you're going to show up to purchase the item if you have no intention of making an appearance. Forget about it being rude and full of    atrocious manners; it's downright cruel to let someone believe they've     just sold their dining room table when in fact - they haven't. (Yes, I’ve been scarred).

Please remember, you're not always right: Unless you're me. And even then, you’d only be operating at a success rate of about 32%.... so, just be yourself.

#the ten commandments #universe #social media #compassion