#and some takes about how its not vegas' fault how its all because of the abuse are really scary lmao

[kinnsporsche]

please i’m begging some of y’all to watch the way you talk about child/parental abuse when it comes to vegas. 

#listen it would be so easy for me to be cruel and twisted and angry at the world after what i've been through #but i choose every day to try and be good to not put out the kind of pain i've received in my life #and some takes about how its not vegas' fault how its all because of the abuse are really scary lmao #stop reducing the kind of character vegas is to JUST abuse because it's not #because it makes it sound like you think all victims of parental abuse are twisted and mean and cruel and i try so hard every day not to be #ok im going to not think about this for approximately 77 years now #vegas theerapanyakul #kinnporsche

[poopingonthefloor]

Davesport is Toxic NOT abusive

(((WARNING: PRETTY LONG POST UNDER THE CUT.))) I've seen some people making the claims that Davesport is comship/proship (ok well i've more seen people bitching about it) and im tired of the Davesport slander so this will be an analysis of their relationship. My motive isn't to force anyone to ship it or anything- i really dont care what you do with your life, my frustration is just when people try to make up REASONS why they don't like the ship, even though its literally canon (and not badly written). My main point is -- You can hate what you want. You don't need a reason, and it doesn't need to be bad just because you don't like it. But I will not take any slander on their ship nor any slander of people who like davesport. Davesport is absolutely toxic-- No DSAF fan would disagree. They are literally child murderers with little to no souls and literally are physically disfigured to the point they don't have the capacity to feel proper humanity anymore. You cant expect 2 men who live their lives willingly murdering and then partying in vegas to celebrate on repeat to be gentle and kind to themselves or anyone else.

However, its NOT abusive. I've seen multiple people (mostly from twitter screenshots) claim that Davesport is abusive or the way people portray it is in a fetishy or romanticizing way of abuse, when that's just not the case. I don't blame a lot of people, since a lot of it comes from reading context and intent of the artist, which not everyone is good at-- BUT I'm here to assure you that MOST people don't intend to do that much and just like to portray how their dynamic is canonically like or portray Daves obsession with Jack. Another argument I've seen (by a twitter screenshot...) is that people are comshipping Davesport because people draw Jack annoyed a lot at Dave when...thats not true? That's just Jack's personality, first off:

(From the Dave x Reader fanfic by Directdoggo)

"Jack is a bastardman not very touchy-feely. We can see this in many scenes, where Dave more or less says “I love you” and Jack responds with deflecting humour, or outright scorn. When Dave says it for the final time, this time, Jack tries to say it back, but can’t outright, only getting out: “Why is this so hard?” and “I hope you can find peace with what you’ve done.” Which Dave understood the meaning of. (Hey, better than Henry (LEGACY Jack) hearing “I love you” and proceeding to tear Dave limb from limb, huh?"

(Directdoggo describing Jack's personality)

I know it can be a little confusing to some people, but as someone who struggles with similar issues, just because he struggles to express intimately doesn't mean he can't love anything. Sometimes people are just different and communicating like that doesn't come as easily, even to the people you're closest to. To make it as easy as possible to comprehend-- He's quite literally a tsundere. (Minus the exaggerated ridiculousness in anime) He loves Dave, he just cant bring himself to say or act like it. The dismissiveness or rudeness in response to Dave's affection is not abuse, it's just a defensive response since he doesn't know how to say it back. (His way of being "shy") -- Also note its important that Dave UNDERSTANDS this about him by that point.

However Jack isn't the only thing I've seen regarding the claims that their ship is abusive-- and to debunk all of those I'm going to explain the three points that keep Davesport from being abusive, and I'll use Henry x Dave (which is what I'll call it to prevent it getting confused for FNAF willry) as an example alongside it since its super obvious why that one is messed up. Firstly, They are both bad people. By this point, Dave and Jack are murderers. It's just not surprising that they will be willing to kill each other at at least some point, considering they are willing to kill 5 year olds without remorse- and they'll both deserve it. It's only their own faults that they teamed up with the other, and it's meant to be the ultimate irony when Jack becomes even worse than Dave by "An ending". My point is- they're bad people. It's not like they're owed perfect company or would choose wholesome people to hang out with when they're literally both child murderers. Dave wasn't evil and didn't want to kill by the time he teamed up with Henry (and even after it was Henry's fault), so by that point his suffering was absolutely undeserved.

Secondly, They're lacking any specific power dynamic. Unlike Henry and Dave- whom have several levels of "Age, Father figure, and Employer", the most important one is that Henry is Dave's abuser. He manipulated him and purposefully harmed him both mentally and physically, whereas Dave never had any intention of doing either because Dave loved him and didn't want to lose him (because he had nobody else) This obviously much different with Dave and Jack, whom other than being taller and several years older than (which you can argue their 6 year age gap is weird but they didnt get to know each other till they were both older than 30 so by that point age difference doesnt rlly matter and (also theyre "mentally" like 24 and 22 canonically anyways (as much as I usually hate that argument)) Other then that they are only co-workers. This is a bit more arguable during DSAF 1, where Dave comes across more threatening and comes across like he's manipulating Jack, but I don't exactly count that because I wouldn't say theyre "shippable" or in their "situationship*" by that point (but also because them even being a ship was barely considered by the creator at that point obviously)-- whereas Dave is certainly more easily recognized as sincere to Jack in DSAF 2. Jack also is not someone who is afraid to defend himself against Dave, as shown by the fact he's willing to call out Dave's ridiculous behaviors (which is reasonable of him to do).

(Also from the Dave x reader fanfic) (I just think this specific screenshot debunks any sort of "power dynamic" claim)

My Third and Final point: There is a CHOICE involved I haven't really done much Dave defense in this post, but his defense is very simple: He is literally physically unable to comprehend guilt or conscience. Dave didn't want to murder anyone in the first place, but it was Henry who fucked with his (literal) head so much to the point he stopped being able to feel guilt. He doesn't care about murder and doing wrong because he CAN'T care. You can't really let that reflect Dave as a character when he's really not in control of himself in the first place. Now with that, that doesn't change the fact he could certainly affect and hurt people, and it's fully up to Jack as to whether or not he wants to deal with this purple man's freakish life choices and hobbies or not. And that's honestly super dependent on the ending you decide to base Jack on. Most people see the 'canon' endings to be: Gnarly ending (DSAF 1) -> An ending (DSAF 2) -> Good ending (DSAF 3) Where in all of these, Jack DOES choose to deal with Dave and basically is completely cool with murder. You don't have to follow those endings if you don't want to, but that's just typically what the modern "Davesport" is known for, but its what I'm using for my defense (considering this is a defense of both fandom and canon Davesport.) Though as opposed with Henry and Dave- Dave had no choice. Henry only ever manipulated him into thinking he did, and Henry made sure to feed this whole 'we will be a family' ideal into Dave (who never had one) so that Dave would be terrified to lose him. Jack never manipulates Dave (when teamed up with him), and Dave never manipulates Jack (tho arguable in DSAF 1 as well). They stay with each other despite all of their issues, and I believe its due to some co-dependency (imo I think Jack is also obsessed with Dave just in a different way before DSAF 3) Which isn't healthy, but not...inherently abusive.

I believe my main three points kind of cover the most of why I dont consider Davesport to be inherently a bad ship, but like I said- if you don't like it, none of that matters anyways. You dont NEED a reason to like something, and I wont try to convince you why you should ship something because I like it. Just don't hate it just because of what someone else says-- 90% of the dsaf fandom aren't comshippers, and Davesport isn't gross or "toxic /neg" just because it's not healthy. I think "Don't fetishize/romanticize literal abuse like its normal or sexy" and "We should explore more complicated and unhealthy dynamics" can and SHOULD coincide with each other!!!! I think Davesport is great because of how bittersweet it is that these two people finally found solace and acceptance in each other but couldn't get past the self-sabotaging nature of what Henry turned them both into, ultimately making it impossible to work out forever. I think embracing the Davesport makes the (kind of aged) trilogy a lot more enjoyable of an experience and I DO encourage any davesport skeptics to keep an open mind. [Pretend I wrapped this up super nicely I can never do that--- Also this is open for conversation and/or debate, and also yada yada my bad if i said something randomly terrible I have extremely poor social skills lol let me know so I dont do it again yada yada] *Also if anyone doesnt know a situationship is (at least in the context im using it in ive heard other definitions for it but its not a real word so i actually dont care) when 2(or more) people basically treat eachother like lovers but they never communicate this outright and dont technically officially date but like they treat and commit to eachother like a partner would) (So its kind of what all those people who playfully flirt and call each other their spouses as a commited running joke are in)

#this might have gotten a little messy by the second half but i've spent so long on this the words have lost their meaning #could you believe this is my second draft #ill make a tldr... #dsaf #dayshift at freddy's #dave miller #jack kennedy #dayshift at freddy's 2 #dsaf dave #dsaf dave miller #dsaf jack #old sport #dsaf old sport #dsaf william afton #dayshift at freddy's jack #dayshift at freddy's 3 #dayshift at freddys

[pomegranateboba]

Hi! This is my first time requesting so sorry if I did anything wrong. Can I request the boys with an MC who has bad experience with gun noises? Like if they even here a chip bag pop open they hit a dead sprint out of the room. If it makes you uncomfy you can just ignore. Have a good day/evening/night!

Hello anon :)

Summoner who dislikes gun/gun-like noises

Arcturus

He was carrying a stack of books, and just so happens that the heavy dictionary at the top of the pile fell onto the ground with a loud thud

He set the rest of the books on a table to pick them up, and was going to ask you for help when he saw you backed up against a pillar a good distance away from him

He noticed how you stared in the book in slight fear and shock, and he immediately went over to ask if you were okay

He didn't know you had this condition, he's really sorry

Gave you a hug as an apology

Made sure that he didn't accidentally trigger this again, and he would always be there for you if you ever need his comfort

Spica

He was holding a heavy stack of papers and he may or may not have put the papers down way too loudly

He saw the way you flinched violently and turned pale

Immediately apologised, pouring you a glass of your preferred drink while rubbing circles on your back to calm you down

Promised he would be more careful next time

He is worried about what had caused this fear of gun-like noises

You are always welcome to come to him if you need anything

Alpheratz

He was opening this bag of chips Pollux gave him, and it accidentally exploded

You struggled to move away from the sudden noise, moving 10 kilometres away from him

He felt bad, he didn't mean to scare you like that

Invited you back to his side, where he hugged you while you both shared whatever was left of the exploded chips

He says its the bag's fault for being so troublesome, he secretly he feels bad

He himself had been startled by the way the stupid bag exploded too

Pollux

He was just showing how he could shoot things from a far distance, so he shot an apple on Alpheratz's head

He turned around and suddenly you were 10 metres away hiding behind a tree

When he realised he wasn't sure how to feel

Why didn't you tell him about this sooner? But he also felt bad for not asking

Apologised over and over again, giving you this half-melted chocolate bar as an apology

Was really clingy for the rest of the day because he felt bad for making you scared

He never apologised to Alpheratz for putting an apple on his head and then shooting it, giving Alpheratz the heart attack of the century. His summoner is obviously more improtant

Vega

Vega already knows about your condition, so he would literally never

And if he ever did, he would feel so bad. Like "I don't deserve you" feel bad

May distance himself from you and everyone to question his whole purpose in life

How could he be your protector if he is the one making you scared?

You have to go to him yourself and tell him its okay, otherwise you will never be able to talk to him ever again

You 2 will get yourselves some jelly (mostly for Vega to calm him down)

He is very careful with what he does, and if anyone scares you again whether on accident or not, make sure you tell them to lock their doors

Sirius

He likely found this out on his own somehow, so he also would be careful about what he does

And if he ever did, he will also fall into depression, except its all internal and he rainbows the pain of hurting you away

He avoids using his gun around you, due to obvious reasons

Will probably tease you about it, but when its serious, he's actually doing his best to comfort you

Anyone who dares take advantage of this fact will face his wrath

Gets you earmuffs for fun

Remember to hydrate yourselves and get enough sleep :)

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight arcturus #arcana twilight spica #arcana twilight pollux #arcana twilight alpheratz #arcana twilight vega #arcana twilight sirius #arcana twilight summoner #arcana twilight headcanons

[lullabyes22-blog]

In fnf how does jinx feel about being seen so sexual. (Ex. Ch 12 the noxian dude, ch 24 the black guards, etc) does it bother her? At what age did she start to notice it? Does she wish it would it stop or does she not mind it? I started to think that maybe that her being seen so sexual was the reason she started dressing so provocative like maybe it was a way to reclaim power. I’m curious about how she feels about it mentally and how it may unconsciously affect her.

I... don't think Jinx sees herself as sexual all that much. Nor do I find her outfit in the series to be particularly provocative given Zaun's laissez-aller setting (she's not even animated to be titillating - her body language alternates between menacingly shifty or defensively huddled throughout the episodes to highlight that fracturing of self and her attempts to reconcile it into a more cogent persona.)

Jinx began as a very literal Harley Quinn expy + a hat-tip to the Manic Pixie Dreamgirl trope, and Arcane goes out of its way to dismantle that paper-thin caricature by making her grungy, disheveled, ranty, messy, morbid, but also imbuing her body language/expressions with all the fragility/softness of an actual teenage girl - and it works beautifully.

As for FnF - I try to get across the undercurrent of danger that's always present in the setting. Zaun (and Runeterra in general) are not wholesome or welcoming environments for those perceived as vulnerable - and there will always be those who are willing to take advantage of them for their own depraved ends.

Re: the Noxians + blackguards - the former sees Jinx as a conquest, and is demonstrated to be a skeezebag. For him, it's not Jinx's sexiness (or lack thereof) that's the appeal. It's what she represents for Zaun - and his way of debasing it.

Similarly, for the blackguard, it's not Jinx being 'sexy' that attracts his notice (she's grubby, unkempt, holding hands with her dad, and probably looks like a drowned cat with her terrible hairdo.) It's the fact that he perceives her as a vulnerable target, with nobody nearby to assist in her rescue - or so he believes.

Re: Jinx's fashion sense - given Zaun's real-life parallels as sort of a Moulin Rouge + entertainment mecca along the lines of Las Vegas, I doubt Jinx's outfit will get a lot of raised eyebrows (hell, I used to dress in little tank tops and low rise jeans when I was 17-22 also, less for the 'sexy' factor and more because that was the fashion at the time, and it's what I was comfy with wearing.)

Point being: Zaun isn't some Disneyland with suburban pseudo-christian values about modesty. And Silco is not the sort of father figure who will look over disapprovingly at Jinx's miniskirt and go, "Young lady, you are not setting foot outside the door unless you change into something appropriate." Hell, it's more likely he won't notice what she's wearing at all, beyond the impact it has and what statement she's trying to make.

As for Jinx herself - she's been trained to be a certified menace and takes great pride in being able to handle herself (much like her sister.) She knows Zaun is a dangerous place. She also knows that her youth and prettiness make her an appealing target to scavengers with salacious intentions. On the whole, though, she's confident enough in herself (and with Silco's support behind her) to stop a troublemaker in their tracks.

To her, the clothes she wears are simply her way of expressing herself. She's got no plans to 'tone it down' to attract less notice, and if you've got a problem with her sense of style, then hey! It's not her fault your taste is terrible.

(Also LoL Jinx canonically is known to strip in public if cake enters the picture. We stan a messy queen.)

tldr: Jinx is no shrinking violet, and Zaun is no private school with a dress code. It's a city that highlights the extremes of progress, in its setting and character designs, and is one of the few places someone like Jinx feels comfortable with being exactly who she is<3

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #asks #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane zaun

[roe-and-memory]

UHMMM in your guy's pinned it says your ok with asks sooooooo

You guys should totally hand over all of your Lightning headcanons :3

HIHIHI IM SO SORRY ITS BEEN LIKE 4 DAYS

hi this is roe quick interruption

thats all ty

ok so…. a magician cannot reveal all of their secrets so ive picked a Select amount of our favourites because obviously we need some surprises,…. its still a LOT though so dont worry i wouldnt dare cut you cheap on our headcanons

if you guys want us to make a separate post on a specific one going into detail of the Lore behind it or just like, more detail in general, dont be afraid to comment and your wish is my command

HERE WE GO!!!

- “HE IS A DUMBASS AND I HATE HATE HIM” (roes words, affectionate)

- he is a liar, sometimes good sometimes bad (only when he wants to) and doc sees through All of it

- he has a walkman he’s had since he was little, he broke the headphones once and mack bought him new ones

- we’ve mentioned it before but he has vision light sensitivity issues

look at him. he cant see SHIT

- he grew up in henderson, nevada, every time a race came to vegas he walked FOUR HOURS to see it from outside the track (he lived an hour and a half from some of the only family that would ever love him in radiator springs EL OH EL!)

- hes a natural redhead but harv thought having him bleach his hair blonde would get him more attention so he did it because harv knows best! sally made him stop when he tried to do it after his roots took over and she was like erm no ! thats destroying your hair and ur curls. and him, not knowing much about his hair was like yeah sure ok

- he has Freckles. So Many. sally tells him he has stars and constellations on his cheeks and hes just giggling and kicking his feet

- also mentioned before he has a lanyard with keys and keychains on it that he carries everywhere hanging out of his pocket

- he has. Horribly. vivid nightmares. so he doesnt sleep much and when he does its always restless

- being a racecar driver he has MASTERED the ability to climb out of windows. he uses this ability to not only cause doc grief (he sleeps across the hall and hears everything), but also to sneak out in the middle of the night when hes restless and prance around in the field like a deer to make himself so sickeningly exhausted he passes out as soon as he lays down

- lightning and sally dance sometimes at the wheel well, neither of them are too good and he wants to practice for her - doc catches him in the living room poorly dancing to rascal flatts and doesnt let him live it down the entire rest of the day

- lightning runs away when hes 15, after walking 4 hours to vegas for a piston cup race he wanted to watch and then deciding he never wanted to go home — there was nothing there for him anyways. he had everything from home he wanted, which included his walkman and thats basically it

- (adding onto above) mack found him at a truck stop somewhere on an interstate asking for either money or a ride somewhere, and as an older brother of 5 little sisters who are his worlds, he saw him and immediately thought . if that was one of my siblings i would never forgive myself. and boom he has a new little brother and boom lightning has an older brother

- he knows how to operate a transport truck courtesy of mack

- he loves stickers, he always has, his walkman and an assortment of his other things are decorated in stickers

- lightning didnt have any friends in his rookie year, so when he has mater, doc, sally, cal, and bobby, he makes little random collages out of magazines and newspapers to keep them as memories

- he loves country music and HATES taylor swift (bobbys fault, bobby is a swiftie)

- doc has sunglasses that lightning finds in his garage, BURIED in a box, they have “hudson” engraved into the arm and he immediately takes them for himself because sometimes its Too sunny (doc when its sunny, he’s out enjoying a beer on the porch and his annoying boyfail son comes outside and stands expectantly awaiting his sunglasses in which he forks over hesitantly)

- crocs or converse there is no in between

- autism.

- he pulls on the threads of his clothing when hes excited or nervous

- talks with his hands, very expressive and he also kicks the ground sometimes for no reason

- he was never taught how to ride a bike. doc is slowly writing down a list of reasons he can KILL 👹 lightnings parents for being HORRIBLE ‼️‼️‼️

THATS ALL FOR NOW…. with time you will learn more but I HOPE YOU LIKE THESE ONES!!!

#lightning mcqueen #cars 2006 #cars fandom #cars fanart #doc hudson #sally carrera #mack cars #hes so fucking silly he needs to be STOPPED #the part where we call him boyfail IS HILARIOUS #like he is actually incredibly sucessful for his age #he just has boyfail energy #mack has 5 sisters trust me it makes sense #cars headcanons #memory’s headcanons #roe’s art

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation: Brownie Boy [18]

I've never really been much of a skeptic. If it has a name and a meaning, I think there's always a possibility for it to be real.

Take dreams, for example. In my mind, they always have some kind of connection to the waking world and to the psyche. Your mind knows your greatest fears and your crutches— if you lose teeth in a dream, you feel like you have a loss of control. If you search up something on Google for an answer while in a dream, you lack at decision-making.

There's meaning in everything we do. And our minds, while belonging to us, have an entire personality of their own. Once our conscious shuts off, our brain makes its own decisions. We are but a shell for our mind to manipulate. And this is why we see what we fear most in our dreams— what we love most, what we value most, what we appreciate. Our dreams are what we want and despise most on this earth.

So tell me why the fuck Sal has been in my dreams for the past week.

It's despicable. It aggravates me to no end. Every dream is some rendition of his sky blue eyes glaring into mine. Discreet touches-- his fingers brushing the back of my thighs, his hair on my neck, his leg pressed against mine.

"Y/n, there's three customers up front waiting for a table."

Michael's voice beside me is suddenly followed by his hand clapping onto my shoulder. I flinch in surprise, turning away from the chef with my hands full and my anxiety maxed out.

"I'm not hosting right now," I say frantically, glancing between my fellow coworker and the chef. A lot of the work that I don't normally get has been dropped on me the past few days and I really haven't been appreciative of it. I say that sarcastically, of course. And I don't blame Michael-- he isn't at fault, he's just delivering orders to me that are coming from the boss.

But as of current, I'm sweating from rushing around for lunch, and that's also mixed in with how nervous I am. I can't even take a single breath without someone telling me I have something else to do.

And the reasoning behind this? According to my boss it's, "because you were out so long, you have to make up for the work you missed out on."

An empty wallet has never looked so appetizing before.

"Here's a proposition," Mike says, leaning against the counter beside me. The chef is done with our shit. Usually if we talk to him, he stays silent anyway. "You grab those fellas up front to make our boss happy and I'll take a few of your tables. Sound good?"

I look up at Michael with the best puppy dog eyes I can possible muster up. "Please," I whisper, cracking my knuckles and bunching up the fabric of my apron in my hands.

Michael grins and pushes off the counter, stretching his arms. "Sure thing. You might want to get up there before Mr. Krabs comes stomping out of his glory hole, though."

That makes me perk up a bit. A hand slaps over my mouth to contain my internal giggles just as Mike shoots me a wink and walks off to one of my tables, likely to inform them that he'll be their server.

It's bad and I'd certainly rather be anywhere but here, but I can make do for now, especially if it means repaying Michael for all his help. So I ignore the anxiety (said anxiety is so anxious that we're both trembling) and I walk over to the front of the restaurant to sit some hungry customers.

Thankfully, most of the rest of my short-ish shift slowed down a bit after lunchtime. Upon finally reaching my apartment at about two in the afternoon, I quite literally launched myself into bed and... consequently, I wished I was working again.

For the past two hours, I've sat here staring at my ceiling and reminiscing on my recent past. Thinking about the opportunities I took and missed. Remembering all the fun I had, just wishing I was back with my friends in Las Vegas. It's been a little over a week and June is finally here, but it still feels like I was sleeping in with my best friend just last night.

Thinking about what I've lost and gained within the past month or so is both depressing and incriminating. The sheer amount of down-bad that overran my body is impressive, but wasn't worth it. Never was worth it.

I've slain myself with the sword I wielded. And it was only a matter of time— I knew the consequences, yet I still went along with it. It's not that I'm sad or whatever, I'm merely disappointed in myself for getting involved with someone so heartless and vile.

I feel like I've betrayed myself. I was nothing but a speck and I knew that, but I still allowed myself to be used. That's what everyone would say, and it's what I'm starting to feel. Is that all I am? Is this all I ever will be to someone? Just a body with no mind. Something to be used and defiled over and over again.

By far, the worst pile drive of grief came from having to see photo after photo of Sal and I together on every social media site in existence. It was painful in an unfamiliar way-- a way that I don't quite understand. It was all photos of photos, photos I didn't even realize existed, or the two of us with fans. I clearly remember liking the pictures that Lexi and Kennedy posted. Oh, and apparently the handsome emo knight's name is Timothy. But even the nice memories of my time in Las Vegas doesn't feel as comforting as it once did.

Everything I experienced with my friends is slowly being altered every second that I'm alive. The way I lived in Vegas will never be exactly the same as I remember it now. Being aware of psychological changes is damning. It's depressing. I will never experience anything, or those memories, the same way I did at the time I was really there.

Fuck you, Freud.

My ceiling spins above me, a kaleidoscope of misery and darkness that I haven't suffered through since before being diagnosed with depression. I'm not even quite sure what it is that I'm so down about-- missing Las Vegas, feeling far from my friends, or Sal's asshole persona. It's something, but I feel sick being so torn up over something that's perceived as trivial by everyone else.

Why do I have to care so much? No one else is like this. So why me?

I pinch my lips together, finishing my recount of the tiles on my ceiling. There are 133 whole tiles. 24 half tiles. Add them together and there are 157 total, but it feels weird to bunch those two shapes together when they're clearly different.

I feel like I'm going insane.

Before I can think harder about how frustrated I am with myself, I force myself to sit up then sling myself out of bed. My heels smack into the floor beneath me, cushioned by grey carpet. It's saved my soles, but it can't buffer the deep grief in my heart. A grief that has no explanation or source.

This afternoon will be the first time I play online with The Faces since before Vegas. The first time I see my friends in a week. The first time I face Sal since briefly making eye contact with him the morning I left Nevada (he didn't even bother to come to the airport with the rest of us). And most importantly, the very first time I show my face while streaming-- and of course, when I say my face, I mean my mask. But I haven't shown myself at all. Anything that anyone has ever seen of me has been from pictures shared on social media.

For once, I'm not terrified by the prospect. I'm more worried about having to face Sally Face and more than eager to talk with Ash again. I really, really miss her.

I'm bundled up in my trusty Twenty One Pilots sweatpants (that are still falling apart), Ash's merch hoodie, and slip on the brand new pair of Kuromi slippers that my dad had waiting for me when I got home. If I'm going to endure the hell-spawn that is Sal Fisher, I might as well be comfortable.

A sigh slips past my lips as I drag my feet over to my PC and turn it on, slumping into my chair. I grab my mask that's been sitting on my desk, untouched for days, and fix it onto my face.

My computer whirrs to life as I stare blankly ahead, slipping into a hypnotic state. Dissociating. Wishing this life was anyone else's but mine.

I blink past my own distracting mental state after mere seconds of waiting for things to get moving. I log onto Discord, clicking into The Faces' server and catching up on all the messages I missed.

The first thing I notice is that Ash, the owner of the server, has apparently discovered that she can change everyone's names. Which, honestly, is news to me. It's apparently causing an uproar in-chat.

Two Face: haha. funny ash. hilarious. very original.

Subtract Thine Father: wut did u expect from Ash??? unicorn cum nd fairy shit???? Subtract Thine Father: omfg mine is rad

He Who Pegs: Much like the joke you made in Vegas, right, Sal? He Who Pegs: My username is correct. I am a pegger.

I'm scared to find out what my new name is. These are personal attacks on absolutely every single member of this chat.

With quaking hands, I type out a quick message and hesitate before pressing send. I'm terrified of what Ash has managed to come up with. But it's whatever, surely it couldn't get worse than Two Face, right?

Closet Dweller: these are horrendously accurate names... i'm a little scared...

My stomach flies out of my ass when I see my name. Good God, I'm not sure how Ash managed to come up with that one but... it's not too far off the marker. I'll give her props.

Closet Dweller: dear god.

Subtract Thine Father: LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO VI

He Who Pegs: Do I smell a fellow homosexual?

Closet Dweller: i will neither confirm nor deny. maybe i'm just locked in my mother's closet or something, ever think of that?

He Who Pegs: Like an Oedipus Complex?

Closet Dweller: NO TODD!!! NO!!!!!!!

It's impressive how simple socialization has managed to cheer me up a bit. I know Todd is really into psychology like I am, so I'm not surprised that he threw something like that in, but I am shocked that he hit me with a joke that heavy.

He Who Pegs: Laughing my ass off.

Subtract Thine Father: srsly todd, just abbreviate it i'm guna die of erection Subtract Thine Father: embarasment**

He Who Pegs: That was an epic fail and epic foreshadowing. Bravo, Larry. Quite the Freudian slip.

I shake my head at my two friends, tears brimming my eyes as I try to contain the fit of laughter that so desperately wants to be released.

Closet Dweller: what's ash's name?

Kween Pussy Popper: Hi :3

I have to shut my eyes and look away from the screen. Her name is funny enough, but her little emote and the casual entrance just makes this entire thing ten times funnier.

My hand slaps over my mouth and I shake my head, tapping my fingers against my desk. I'm so going to get in trouble with these people.

I'm going to cough up a lung or something later, but it'll be worth it, so I look up at my computer again.

Subtract Thine Father: waddup pussy kween Subtract Thine Father: can u share sum bc i am lacking. Subtract Thine Father: u kno how the grinch's heart grows 4 xmas? well my dick shrinks the longer i go wo a snazzy lady Subtract Thine Father: save a horse ride a cowboy, as they say Subtract Thine Father: i am the cowboy. where r my bitches??????? lonesome. desperate. choking. dying.

The chat goes quiet momentarily so I smile and scoot away from my desk. The objective was to roll across the floor-- no, glide-- and look like some kind of fairy in slo-mo, but I forgot that I have carpeted flooring. So my chair rolls for not even a second before coming to an abrupt stop. Pathetic and not so glorious.

My smile slips off my face as I push myself off the chair and walk across the rest of my room to my bedroom door. Lame. 

Getting to talk with everyone has really upped my spirits in a way I didn't expect. It's really odd how the little things just so happen to matter so much when even big things don't seem to matter as much anymore. Even I don't feel like I matter much anymore, but Larry, Ash, and Todd somehow manage to remind me that they care in their own little ways. Whether it's through goofy conversations that don't even include me or silly nicknames, they're the sole reason for my overflowing dopamine.

My feet pad through the hallway and into the kitchen where I get my hands on the #1 best struggle meal that America has to offer.

Microwaveable ramen. Beef, specifically.

The funniest thing about microwaveable ramen is that hardly anyone makes it the right way. And if you do make it the right way, great job! You have an extra brain cell. The rest of us heathens, on the other hand, put the little styrofoam cup in the radiation incubation tank anyway and call it a day. Warnings be damned. 

So I walk back to my room with my little cup of ramen, styrofoam nice and warm, fresh out the microwave for all my haters, and I plop back into my desk chair with chopsticks at the ready.

But my eyebrows furrow when I place my headset back on and catch up on the Discord conversation I'd walked away from.

Kween Pussy Popper: Can we get on a call now? I miss Vi and starting early is my excuse to talk to her now :(  Kween Pussy Popper: OMGGG!!! It's also a really big day bc Vi is going to be on camera for once!!! eeeee >.<

Subtract Thine Father: ya getin on now >:)

I scroll down on all our channels to find all four members of The Faces in Ash's VC. I'm late to the party. Now, the issue with this is... I'm stuck. My cursor hovers over the voice channel, but I just can't find it in myself to actually click on the thing. My finger lightly sits on top of the mouse, ready to press down but I can't. My heart physically jumps into my throat, choking me with emotion and grief and unadulterated fear that has absolutely no fucking business hanging around in my body like this.

Truth be told, I knew I'd get tired of my fear sooner or later. I'd get so tired that I'd just grab my issue by the balls and disrespect it doggy style. And I'm close-- so close to finally following through with this aggressive exhaustion. But I need one more excuse to tip me over the metaphorical edge. 

My chopsticks dip into my steaming ramen and pick up brothy goodness in noodle form. I slurp up the last bit of dignity I need to be restored and finally click on the option that launches me into the chat before I can stop myself again.

Only, when I do this, I'm staring at all four other members of our server... but also myself. Noodles hanging out of my mouth, broth drip-dropping onto my desk because I'm a messy eater. Dignity not restored, but even more lost in exchange. 

I love life so much. Note the sarcasm.

Larry grins while everyone else kind of watches me, stuck like a deer in headlights and unable to just eat my food like a normal human being. "Gobble, gobble, Closet Dweller," are Larry's first four physically spoken words to me since I hugged him goodbye in the Las Vegas airport about a week ago.

A small smile tugs at my own lips as I quickly suck the rest of my way too big bite of noodles into my mouth and, well, gobble as Larry suggested.

"Closet Dweller was targeted. I'm only a little offended, but I think that name would be better suited for Todd, right?" I ask, eyes glancing between Ash, Larry, and Todd on the screen while purposefully avoiding a no doubt brooding Sal. I refuse to look at him.

Ash's nose scrunches up in disagreement, her melodic voice flowing through my headphones to follow the action. "Todd is out of the closet. You, on the other hand, are still playing hide and seek behind your mom's pajamas like you're looking for a passage to Narnia. Plus, Todd is a renowned pegger."

Todd nods, pinching his lips together. I wait for him to laugh and say 'Jay kay' or something, you know, odd like he is, but he doesn't. And even freakier is that no one seems alarmed.

"He also has a shirt that says 'I got pegged at Cracker Barrel' so no one is more worthy of that nickname than him. King Arthur ain't got shit on my guy," Ash chirps proudly, tilting her chin up with a little smirk on her lips. Her cat ear headphones glow a bright green, reflecting the joy and pride she feels regarding the nickname she came up with.

My eyebrows pinch together beneath my mask and my attention turns to Todd. "You have a shirt that says 'I got pegged at Cracker Barrel?'"

Todd gives me the sweetest little upside down smile and quickly rises from his seat, showing off the back wall of his room that is... plain as fuck, to be quite honest. But that's okay because Todd is organized, so it's only fair that his walls are organized as well. 

Todd reappears just two seconds later, holding up a long-sleeved, mustard yellow shirt that says exactly what he and Ash claimed it would.

I break into a face-splitting grin. "That's sick," I voice, moving closer to my computer to get a better look at the shirt. I didn't lie either. I'd assassinate some really important government leaders to get my hands on that.

"See! You're such a closet hermit!" Ash exclaims, pointing a finger at me with wide eyes and an open-mouthed smile.

"Since when?" I counter, crossing my arms over my chest good-naturedly. This is all in fun, Ash knows damn well I wouldn't have kissed her or even entertained the idea if I wasn't a little fruity. "Sal should get the nickname, he was the one trying to bed Hot Excalibur Emo Knight."

Yea, the acknowledgement and statement left my lips before I could remember that I was inadvertently giving Sally Face the silent treatment. Hades' personal hellhound is a taboo here. That man is a curse word in this house. I set myself up and now I have to put a quarter into my mental swear jar.

I note how Sal shifts in his seat out of the corner of my eye. Not that I care. In fact, I saw nothing.

"You're missing the point, Vi!" Ash shakes her head, faux disappointment marring her meticulously designed facial features. "Sal is out of the closet. He's as much of a cooked noodle as he is a raw one." Her distinction between gay and straight is fascinating. "You, on the other hand, are a recluse and hiding betwixt MawMaw bras and old, dusty infinity scarves from your mother's regretted youth. You want a different name, then come out of your hidey-hole already."

My jaw drops and I stare at my friend who looks quite proud of her outlandish accusations, even if they aren't so outlandish.

Larry is red-faced and Todd couldn't care less; he's too busy folding up his Cracker Barrel shirt. 

"How come I'm a target today?" I snicker, leaning my head on my fist as I look back at my best friend. 

"Because I'm feeling extra aggressive and a little frisky. In other words, the fruit is ripe. Flirt with me and I'll be in your bed within two to five business minutes," Ash winks at me, tongue swiping along her bottom lip.

I frown. "Well that sucks. I don't have any good pick-up lines. I only have really shitty psychology jokes. I guess I'll be sleeping alone tonight." I sigh and take another bite of ramen, dramatically looking off into the distance-- which is just the wall behind my computer. Blank space, baby.

"There's so much sexual tension packed into you two that I'm starting to suffocate," Larry pipes up, voice soft and astonished. "I'm drowning and I love it." He has stars in his wide, hickory-colored eyes.

I can't stop smiling. This expression is permanently etched onto my face, a tattoo. "We're just picking, Lar. Don't get your hopes up."

"Picking?" Ash gasps, feigning shock. She leans back with a hand to her chest. "All this time, your affection was a lie?"

"Alas, it was never real," I reply, dipping my head down to hide the my happy smile again. I have to play my part, but I can't do that with my face set like this.

Larry cackles in response. "The one woman you can't get, Ash!" He exclaims, wild giggles filtering through the call. I look up again, watching the way Ash's eyes narrow.

"I never thought this would happen to me. Not my Vivi..." She trails off, shutting her eyes to express her sadness.

"The fuck did you expect?" Larry prods, scooting close to his camera so that all we see is the bridge of his nose, dark eyes, and his thick brows-- one is arched in question. "Unicorn guts and fairy shit?" He quotes himself beautifully, reusing his remark from in-chat. "Fellatio and scissoring? This isn't Disney, Ash. If anything, we're wrapped up in a Grimm Brothers' fairytale."

I have to put my fist over my mouth to hide my reaction because that's the most accurate thing that Larry has said all day. And he even brought out big boy words like fellatio. Has he been studying?

Sal lets a boyish chuckle slip and my gaze cuts to him despite my better judgement. He's bent down, instinctually covering the mouth of his prosthetic, seemingly forgetting that we can't actually see his facial expression. It's such a normal action, one that I'm not used to when it comes to him. It's a moment where I can't look away. A rare moment where I get that weird feeling for him again-- one that I've only experienced maybe three times since meeting him. It's that domestic and naive feeling, where he's a normal person that I yearn for a bit. He's not an asshole, he's not hidden behind a prosthetic. He's just a guy that I know. A guy that I'd like to touch and see and feel on a deeper level.

I blink when he tilts his head back, revealing his pretty dagger tattoo and a veiny hand that runs through his hair. He pushes his fringe back, making little blue strands stick up in different directions.  

I can't help but straighten my sitting position. Slouching gone, body attentive. I don't know if I'm nervous, wary, excited, or stuck in some admiring state. But it's weird. And I do not want to be feeling it. I never asked for this.

And yea, he still looks the same. Painfully the same. Like a beacon in the dead of night. Tales of his past on his skin, his hair like streaks of bright cerulean paint on a canvas. The worst aspect of him is his eyes. They haunt me. 

He looks up at the camera again, having finally collected himself a few moments ago, showing off the feature of his that I loathe so much.

All the colors of an Aurora Borealis dance in his irises; the natural blue hue darkened into a teal from the lack of lighting. Little flashes of green and pale purple reflect onto his eyes from his computer screen, creating a kaleidoscope clash of colors that cover his entire prosthetic face. So many shades of life that mix to mimic something I've always wanted to witness for myself. I just didn't expect to see it in the eyes of who I both despise and desire most in this miserable life of mine. 

What the hell is wrong with me? How dare I fall into this kind of depression over Sal Fisher? No one has ever betrayed me as many times as I've betrayed myself at this point.

Ash's voice steals me from my mind's ruthless vices. "That's a pretty morbid scarf, Vi."

My gaze flicks to her and I scrunch my eyebrows again. "Scarf?" I ask. I'm not wearing a scarf. It's summer. In Los Angeles. "What scarf?" She's probably going to make some kind of joke that she's been holding out on for a while.

Ash scoots closer to her computer, eyes filled with confusion. They squint and she says, "Yea... scarf. It looks like a hand. Is it a hand?"

"Ash, what the fuck are you talking about? It's summer. Why would I wear a scarf?" I give her a bewildered look that's buffered by my mask, but the conversation attracts everyone else's attention too. Larry and Todd both move closer to their computers and, shockingly, Sal even tilts his head, eyes glued to the screen.

I look down, but I can't see anything near me or on me. Is this some elaborately planned joke or something?

"Uh," Todd says, voice a mix of confused and concerned, which sets off alarm bells in my head. "Yea. There's a hand. That's a hand."

I plan on answering, but then Ash screams and then something cold wraps around my throat and I scream in turn.

My reaction is instant-- I shove myself away from my desk, headset ripped off my head and the hand forced off of my neck. I hear a resounding 'oof' as I knock into something, or more like someone.

My room is dark, pitch black, so I leap off of my chair and into the darkness. My heart is racing a mile a minute, my hands shake with fear and adrenaline, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. Who the fuck is in my room. What the fuck is going on?

I see the silhouette of a tall figure through the low light of my computer. It's bent a bit, pale arm wrapped around their stomach.

I back up toward my wall, listening to the quiet, panicked voices of my friends yelling for me to answer them from my headset. And then my phone rings in my pocket-- for fuck's sake-- so I have no choice but to rush to the knife hanging on the wall right beside my door (I'm paranoid and clearly for good reason) and flick on my bedroom light, ready to launch and attack whoever's dumb enough to be here.

I hold my breath, wide-eyed with a war drum hammering away at my chest as light floods my room. I'm going to either get charged with homicide or be the homicidee. Is that even a word?-- actually, I don't care. It's a word now.

But as soon as I see the supposed figure squinting in the sudden brightness, I'm so relieved that I nearly fall to my knees, whimpering despite how embarrassing that might seem to someone else.

The Faces start yelling again.

"Did I scare you?" His hypnotizing, baritone voice fills me with an eerie calm that melts away the string of adrenaline keeping me afloat as of present.

"And my friends who think I'm about to be murdered? Of fucking course, you thundercunt," I hiss, stomping over to what I previously thought was going to be my demise.

"That's for never bringing back my screwdriver."

I roll my eyes, groaning in a mix of anger and exasperation once I stand in front of my neighbor and long-time friend. Nate looks down at me with a handsome little smirk on his full lips and forever messy black waves hanging over his forehead. "Fuck you," I grunt, taking a step past him to kick in the back of his knees. Said knees buckle and he yelps, quickly catching himself with a hand on my shoulder as a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest.

I grab my headset off the ground and lean down so my friends can see me. I watch relief flood their faces instantly, with the exception of Sal, of course. I grab my mic without putting the headset on and say "I'll be right back."

Setting them back down, I turn away from The Faces and look to Nate again, arms crossed over my chest. I pull my mask off just so he can see how astronomically pissed I am.

The asshole only laughs harder. The charm in that singular sound alone makes me want to punch him in the face. 

Nathaniel Emilio Luis Espinosa has been a daredevil since I met him, always raging over danger and reaching for that incomparable fear factor. He has lots of personality, and a lot of that personality has been met with a chancla to the face, courtesy of his overprotective mamá that won't take his bullshit even after she's in the grave. 

And that's why Mrs. Lucía and I are besties at heart. And in sandals.

But to go with Nate's desperate yearning for bad things is social anxiety. He hardly ever leaves his apartment and he'll claw at his walls to stay inside. I think that's why he's more than happy to make brownies for me and get absolutely decimated in Mario Kart whenever he comes to visit-- he isn't really leaving the apartment building, but he isn't alone either. 

He's also quite a looker. I have no doubt that if Sal ever met him, he'd be drooling all over the guy. Nate has sharp facial features that are just... perfect in almost every way. Little beauty marks on different sections of his face, angular nose, a jawline that could cut air. Everything is only accentuated by his shoulder length, wavy, midnight black hair that he hates so much (all he ever talks about is how aggravating the upkeep is) and his equally as dark eyes that still entrance me to this day. Plus, he's tall. 6'4 last I checked and built like Stonehenge-- gorgeous and unbreakable. 

Basically, he has no problem getting pussy. I'm never concerned about his sex life. His love life, on the other hand...

"You're in deep shit," I huff out, looking away from my friend who grins proudly. I move over to my bed-side table and dig in the one drawer it has, pulling out his beloved screwdriver. I turn back to him and hold it up for him to see, waving it dramatically before walking back over to him.

I grab his hand and slap it into his palm. "You're lucky I don't scrape off your kneecaps for that. I ought to call your mom and tell her what you've done. I could have had a stroke!"

Nate's eyebrows pinch together as if to sarcastically say 'sure bitch' but then he seems to process what I said. He suddenly hisses and his sable eyes go wide. "Please, I'm actually really sorry. Don't call my mom."

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't," I counter with, stepping up so we're nearly chest-to-chest.

"Because you love me," Nate bats his eyelashes at me, but that ship sailed years ago. He can't get me with that look anymore. He licks his lips, pink tongue darting out quickly. "And because I'll make brownies for you every week for the next month?" he tacks on.

I purse my lips. "Let me continue to borrow your screwdriver and it's a done deal."

Nate looks like a kicked puppy over our game of deal-or-no-deal. But he accepts anyway, sniffling over his loss. 

"How did you even get into my apartment?" I ask with a scoff, putting my mask back on and plopping into my desk chair. I face my friends who watch me in confusion, terror, and intrigue. 

"With the key you gave me. Duh," Nate says matter-of-factly, walking up behind me. I need to go get checked out or something because how could I forget that I gave Nate a key? "What's with the mask?" he asks.

I suck in a breath. "That's a really long story for another time," I tell him, grabbing hold of my headset and situating it back on. 

Nate leans over me, settling his chin on my shoulder from behind as his hands grip the armrests on my chair. I watch him through my camera as he gazes at my screen, meeting the eyes of The Faces. 

Tongue in cheek, I address my friends again. "Sorry, I'm not a victim of murder," I say quickly. "this is my neighbor, Nate."

Larry blinks, "Oh. He's brownie boy?" I snort. "He's kinda..." A sexy grin forms on his face and I roll my eyes. 

"Yea, he'd love to hear that," I say pointedly, glancing at Nate who's still hanging around.

"Wait," Nate murmurs, lifting his head and moving closer to the screen. "Why are you talking? You're just watching a video, right?"

"You're late to the party," I tell him, unable to stop myself from giggling a bit. "This is a discord call. With The Faces. I know you've heard of them, I talk about Ash all the time." 

"Of course I've heard of them. I just... didn't think you meant this Ash," he says bashfully, shaking his head a bit so his hair falls into his eyes. It's a little anxiety thing of his, makes his hair fall into his face in an attempt to hide however much he can. 

I put my hand over his that's still holding onto my armrest in hopes of both calming and reassuring him. He gets so nervous...

He lets out a little sigh behind me before setting his chin on my shoulder again. He doesn't say another word. That skill is lost on him at the moment, which is a frequent thing for him in social and social-ish settings. 

I look back to my other friends and give them a little smile, but they're still staring. They look so confused that they don't know how to act, which, okay. Fair.

And all is quiet up until Sal talks for the first time since the call started.

"You moved on from the hot knight pretty quickly." 

It's said in a very... suggesting way. It makes my eye twitch in response. It's so aggravating that he still manages to piss me off by simply breathing. I swear if his mic was too close to his face right now and I heard him take a breath, I'd have to fly to Nockfell just to slap him. 

"Hot knight is still on my list," I say tastelessly. "But I didn't see him interested in you so I don't understand why he's a topic."

I watch Sal's eyes narrow in agitation and I match his emotions and expression. He thinks he's so important. What was the point of bringing up Timothy the knight? He's been quiet this entire call. Why couldn't he have just stayed that way?

"I can talk about whatever I want. You just piss me off. Your boyfriend tried to kill you and he's getting in on our call. I have an issue with his presence. Yours too, honestly," Sal says, voice monotonous and bored, like it's a waste of his time to have to explain himself.

"He's not my boyfriend, jackass," I say in a grating voice. I'm at that tired point again. Just fucking tired of him... and not at the same time. Part of me is yearning for the aggression. The vexation. The resentment we share for each other and all the delicious arguments and loathing it brings. I miss it-- everything before we embarked on our short-lived shit-uationship. "And I have an issue with your presence too. You piss me off. I see why Ash nicknamed you two-face-- you're so nice to everyone, but you're a wolf in sheep's clothing. You're actually just a lint licking, cunt flap, cum infested puss bubble of a fucklet."

"Damn," Larry hisses, leaning back in his chair and staring at his screen like he's been stabbed. "I felt that in my prostate."

Nate's head moves from my shoulder and I turn to address him, but end up watching his form crumple to the floor in a heap of laughing mess. He shoots me a quick thumbs up, but whether it was an agreement, pride, or to tell me he's okay-- I'm not sure.

Ash is holding herself together by a thread, bottom lip between her teeth as tears well in her eyes. She doesn't dare blink, or else those tears will fall (and crash around me, or whatever Bullet For My Valentine once said).

"You're lucky as fuck that I'm not in your general vicinity," Sal barks out, fire blazing in his otherwise frosty eyes.

"Or what?" I taunt, tilting my head. He wouldn't hit me. He's a self-proclaimed feminist after all, if that's even true. So what would he do? Punish me? Tarnish my squeaky clean online image? He could still do that without being in my general vicinity. That statement was so loaded that I'm starting to get a little nervous...

"Military weapons-grade, apocalypse-inducing, soul-severing revenge. That's all," Sal says nonchalantly. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed and ring-clad fingers tapping his biceps. And he's... hot. And terrifying. And so, so infuriating. I hate him.

"I'd like to see you try all that," I reply, sucking my teeth. In truth, I'm not as on top of my shit as I could be because I'm still upset and confused over him. I'm angry, but not enough to properly express it. Sal's been an issue from the start, but now he's becoming even more of one.

"Watch me," is his snarky reply. And I know I can't actually determine if it's me he's staring at like that, but the feeling I get says that his glare is baring right into my image on his screen. I can feel his detest across the country, aimed directly at me. It makes a shiver run down my spine and I grip my armrests tighter.

"Is that a threat?" I bite out, swallowing thickly.

His eyes light up a bit, and then they squint. Almost like he's smiling. And then he says, in a sickeningly gentle and dark voice, "It's a promise."

________________

A/N::::: On today's episode of Ryver Rhoulette: is that a decomp stain or is it just moldy cum?

SORRY anyway, HI I AM BACK <333 i spent most of my break sick and suffering from writer's slump... it's not a block because i know what i wanna write, just couldn't get the thoughts out o_e

first off, i know this chapter is a little shorter and i'm sorry about that. i know it's been a while, so i definitely owe you guys a LOT more content than what's in here (especially since it's pretty much filler...) but next chapter is going to be VERY fun :D i can't promise or predict when the next chapter will be, but i have plenty of time to work on it before i go back to school on january 12th! so if not soon, definitely whenever college starts up because i have a yucky habit of procrastinating and getting WONDERFUL fic ideas instead of doing work >:)

also of note: i will be posting a Sal-lore chapter again soon. it may come before the next Faceless Fixation canon chapter, just fair warning. i literally have no idea which i will get inspo for first LOL

until next time, my sweet doves! i love you all so infinitely much <33 have a great morning/day/evening/night! sending big squishes and loves :3

P.S. GUESS WHO NATE IS BASED ON I FUCKING LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIHEIWHEL

P.S.S. huge thanks to @weaslebeeps for coming up with Todd in a "I got pegged at Cracker Barrel" shirt AND for drawing it??? LIKE ACTUALLY????? i love u sweetness <3

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic

[delafiseaseses]

I thought about the NCR Sharecropper Farms and Concluded they should not Exist.

Strong opening line, 'ey? How's ol' Delafiseaseses gonna justify that?

Quite easily, actually. Y'see some people misunderstand the NCR Sharecropper Farms, they think it provides food to the Mojave. Not true. It provides food to the NCR, clues in the name, really. Its a Sharecrop, the NCR gets some of the crop and the sharecroppers get the rest of their crop as payment, the portion the NCR takes goes to NCR Military bases. As Romanowski says 'A lot of the crops grown here support the various NCR camps in the region - McCarran, Golf, and Forlorn Hope, to name a few. We can't have wastelanders popping in here for a free meal, so my squad and I are assigned to keep things from going to hell.' and when Romanowski says 'Wastelanders' he means 'people from the Mojave Wasteland' of course.

Do the sharecroppers sell their crops to Mojave citizens? Possibly, but remember all the sharecroppers are NCR citizens brought over by the 'Thaler Act', nobody from the Mojave directly benefits from this arrangement.

You may think 'Well, not like anyone in the Mojave before was using the land.' possibly wrong. While he's not from the Mojave (and is an unrepentant Enclave fascist, but that's irrelevant) Orion Moreno has this to say 'I came out here to get away from them - didn't work out so well. Next thing I know, I'm squatting in "their" land. Never mind that I'd already been living here for years.', and when he says 'years' he could mean up to over 3 decades. So we've got to wonder... was the land unoccupied? Moreno is a stubborn old Enclave soldier, he wouldn't scare easy, he gets harassed by the NCR, as he says when you first meet him 'Bah. Looks like I forgot to lock the doors again. If you're with the NCR, get out. This place is mine, and I'm not leaving.' or, if you am in NCR faction armour 'Look, trooper, I was living in this house long before your farms got set up. Don't even think about evicting me.' most people would be forced off by these tactics. So it is entirely possible the NCR has displaced Mojave residents to set up their precious farm.

Both quests involving the Sharecropper Farm also include a backdrop of NCR vs Mojave Locals. The most obvious is, of course, The White Wash. The Westside Co-Op, an actual local community farming effort (which does have some New Californians, but they're unaffiliated with the NCR), is only surviving because of the syphoning of water from the Sharecroppers by Tom Anderson. The water from the local water system that the NCR took over, I might add. Why do they get to claim ownership of Lake Mead's water and the Vegas water system?

And the second, Hard Luck Blues is more indirect. The NCR isn't at fault at all for this, the Vault 34 Civil War damaged their reactor and that was entirely on them. But the final choice between saving the Vault 34 Survivors or dealing with the radiation leak caused by the Vault 34 Civil War killing the survivors. So it is literally saving an NCR Asset or saving people who for over 200 years have lived in the Mojave.

Now, I'm not saying the Sharecroppers themselves deserve to suffer lower than needed water rations or radiation in their soil. They didn't set this up, they're just working class NCR citizens trying to survive, but, the thing is, the Sharecroppers can just... leave. And they do if these quests are resolved in ways that hurt the Farms.

After the White Wash siding with Anderson/Westside the affected sharecropper Trent Bascom says he's quitting because 'I wouldn't be able to meet the quota, and the NCR would kick me out of my job, anyway. Nah, it's better I get out on my own terms.' and he's even got a plan for his future 'I hear the Brahmin ranchers out in Redding are looking for some hard workers, so I might try there first. I hate working with Brahmin, though.' so, yeah, that sucks for him, but he's got a future. He may not like that future, but its more of a future than the Westsiders have if they lose their Co-Op.

And after Hard Luck Blues you can find some Sharecroppers out front of the Big Horn Saloon in Boulder City. The named member of this group is a woman named Anne, she has this to say 'We're heading back home. I hope our troops do the same. This land can't be saved. Trying to grow crops in this heat, with so little water, is bad enough, but now we've got radiation seeping into the farmlands east of New Vegas. We're done. Let the people of these hell-hole deal with their problems, I say.' and, y'know, I agree. Maybe the people of the Mojave should deal with their problems and not have a military force from somewhere else claiming their land and water? Especially since the area is still disputed at this time. They're literally fighting a bloody war which they have a 3/4 chance of losing during all of this.

To put this all in a shorter way: The NCR Sharecropper Farm's existence is an example of NCR colonialism.

Like, it's textbook fucking colonialism. They forcefully took over part of a land that's not theirs, brought in their own people to 'settle' the land and violently keep the locals out of it all, who suffer because of it. I've said before that the NCR playacts the USA and they certainly playact it accurately.

So, unless you're doing an NCR playthrough, I'd say its probably best to side against the Sharecropper Farm in every instance because the NCR Sharecropper Farms should not exist. It sucks for the Sharecroppers, but they'd be out of the job when the NCR withdraws anyway. Probably best for everyone if they get out before the NCR Military does.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #new vegas #hard luck blues #the white wash #ncr #ncr sharecropper farms #trent bascom #anne #westside #vault 34 #orion moreno #new california republic

[mywifeleftme]

179: Elvis Presley // The Sun Collection

The Sun Collection Elvis Presley 1975, RCA Victor

Is there anything left worth writing about Elvis? Well, people still find smart things to say about Jesus. Getting through all the muck around him took some doing for me, and it was probably the mythic intensity of Nick Tosches and Greil Marcus’s writing on his career (and particularly the Sun Sessions) that gave me a framework for understanding what made him so electric, something more than the pancake-foundationed Engelbert Humperdinck- or Wayne Newton-type Vegas tchotchke he seemed to be. I don’t have a ton to add to the conversation around Presley, but I was curious about how people think about him these days, whether they still have any strong opinions at all. I asked a bunch of friends (and my grandma) to give me their impressions of the King, and their thoughts follow.

18 Takes on the King

“I guess he's like a sexy (not as in attractive, but more like assuming the affectation of sex) Gumby who was the perfect conduit for music producers looking to extract culture from Black communities, can it, and sell it to white America like tinned fish. It's like if Hank Hill had a verbal aphasia and could only stutter vowel sounds, but it somehow still slaps despite the odds.”

“The quintessential model for a pop star who is overtly sexualized but also somehow innocent or naïve. This presentation can range from cool to creepy. Elvis didn’t do it first, but he did it the best to that point and his version came off on the cooler end of that spectrum.”

“Elvis isn’t my thing, but without him I don’t know what ‘90s independent cinema would even be.”

“I have conflicted feelings about Elvis—while I think there's something truly timeless and unique about the timbre of his voice and the way he sings (my family plays his Christmas record on Christmas Day without fail every year), I also recognize that he is overrated in that his material is neither original nor is it particularly revolutionary in any way, and if anything is just a glossed, whitewashed version of music that already existed previously that white audiences couldn’t handle. But ultimately, I do legitimately like listening to his music.”

“I’m not a major Elvis person, but early rock dude who combined gospel/blues with the developing genre of rock. Don’t think he ever claimed to be THE GUY who created the genre and from the little I know, he acknowledged the importance of Black artists in inspiring what he did. Particularly known for his cover of ‘Hound Dog.’ There we go.”

“Elvis Presley, the hip-shaking maestro of rock 'n' roll, could make even a hound dog blush with envy. His voice was smoother than peanut butter on a hot skillet, and his hair was so iconic, it had its own fan club. If music be the food of love, then Elvis was the chef who cooked up a whole lotta heart-throbbing tunes! (ChatGPT lol, sorry, busy day at work!)”

“A bejewelled sex wizard.”

“Elvis Presley allegedly came in his all-leather flight suit during his iconic ‘comeback’ special. He is one of a select few celebrities with a fervently believed rumour of being not-dead. People dress as him and marry other people together. Also, he invented a sandwich. — King Status”

“Mediocre singer who abused women and whose signature sandwich is overrated.”

“His career ate him up, then he ate everything else.”

“The King of Ripping Off Other Artists. My earliest memories of Elvis are my family listening to the Christmas album ad nauseum, but they’re good memories nonetheless. Regardless of how you feel about Elvis, you must admit ‘Jailhouse Rock’ fucking RIPS.”

“White as winter snow pills jam and peanut butter A king on his throne”

“A lot of people dismiss Elvis because of an opinion they've been told to have and have never really critically assessed, and I imagine a lot of people you ask about this will give you the standard take; I'm not going to fault them that, I think a lot of us have opinions like that, it's not really efficient to assess the validity of every single one of our received assumptions.

There's an absolutely dogshit short story by Alice Walker about an Elvis stand-in character and a Mama Lou Thornton stand-in character, which seems to imply that Thornton wrote ‘Hound Dog’ herself and was effectively exploited and that Elvis isn't a real artist because he can't write his own songs, which is a crock of shit because: two Jewish white guys wrote the song for Thornton; she made it a #1 record; and performance IS real artistry and Thornton, like Elvis, was a real artist and interpreted the song in a very powerful way.

The fact is, you listen to that Ed Sullivan ‘Hound Dog’ performance, and it doesn't take much to see how different it is from the original—not ‘better’ or ‘worse’ but very obviously distinct, and if you tell me otherwise you are absolutely approaching it in bad faith and there's no reason for me to even waste my time explaining that to you.

Elvis absolutely kicks the doors down in the opening bar of his version of ‘Hound Dog,’ it sounds extremely dangerous and you can immediately see why he scared parents—he was wild and in-your-face, an extremely prescient innovator who sounded totally unlike anything that came before him no matter what the haters mindlessly repeat, and he WAS a true contender for the title of King of Rock & Roll.”

“My ability to produce an opinion here was contaminated by the Baz Luhrmann movie.”

“apparently influential in bringing some sort of music (maybe it’s dance hall music) to white America but I dunno really

also he died on the toilet

or maybe aliens got him

not sure”

“A man with a good heart, in a physique of timeless beauty that comes along once in a civilization. True to his roots, and the foundation of his time, he kept his focus on God. However, his body and mind went wayward to a decadence not uncharacteristic of the chapter unto which he was born. His Spirit shone through regardless, right to the end.”

“Elvis is America in the sense that his impact was so seismic and society changed so rapidly while he was active that he basically had to become a nostalgia peddler for like, his own vibe in his own time. He went from Little Richard to Michael Bublé in like a year and a half.

He’s a perfect representation of suspended youth in that I think a lot of what makes him so iconic is that all his excesses (Graceland, the Outfits, the Karate, the Sandwiches) are basically a broke 12-year-old boy’s version of what being rich and famous looks like, which objectively rocks.

His best record is a Christmas album which I think is an appropriate celebration and condemnation of his legacy.”

“He was my youth. 😊 He was my exam study music! I loved him and his music and his movies. I still love him!”

179/365

#elvis #elvis presley #'50s music #sun sessions #crowdsourcing #'50s rock #rock n roll #american mythology #music review #vinyl record

[lotlizard69bbw]

I have been waiting for 5 years since she left me alone at home and its not my fault that she left you behind but i love her more than you will ever know about and i just hope that you didn't hurt her because if you did i will never forgive you because shes the only reason why im still alive and you will never know what happened to him but i didn't do anything wrong to anyone id never hurt anyone just my self if i want to hurt you i will hurt my self call anyone who knows me and ask them about me but don't worry about me because after i get the battery i have some time to make sure nobody will ever see me again because i have some new ideas for my brains and i gave away the money from the company and i donated it to the public sector in which you will never get any information about the company or the person who is in charge of your family members have been informed that you are fucking busy in your work and you don't care about your friends or what happens when you leave your home and your child is in danger and you know what is happening to them all in christinas with their clothes off and they are being raped by everyone who knows what the world has done to the people who want the same one as they have been in your area since you were born in France and they had no choice but to make sure you had the chance to see the difference between them and their parents and they are going to take care of your enemies with you and the other ones are in your hands and your body will feel better when you get the opportunity to make sure that they get the chance to see how much it costs for us to come back and get you out of their and you will have to make sure that they never leave their and you are still in love with our family and friends and aunt for her work with you and life beyond that come back now and ill prove my loyalty to you as well bring me a bomb and ill pay them back for you and your business will find the best person for the future of your life and enjoy your meal with your partner as you know im the one you was in love with not any one else who would be interested in doing this because you are my world and we are crazy lovers who want to rule the world and i love the QUEEN VICTORIA is my mother and my sister is coming to kill people who are not happy about the company you are looking for the wrong person the person you are looking for are both in this blue school bus by Shelby mustang in las Vegas Nevada and they are not even the ones who did the first job they were involved with them in your home and they are still looking forward to seeing you so they can kill you with your own personal experiences in the morning and your sister is here with him and they are both high on meth and fucking each other in their asses

#roger Johnson is not the one you want to kill the person you want are both in this blue school bus a cuban girl and a long haired man are it

[breakingarrows]

A Response to “Live Service Ruined Gaming” by NovemberHotel on YouTube.

I will preface this by saying that I am not writing this because I outright disagree or want to argue with or think NovemberHotel is wrong or dumb or anything like that. I am writing this because I watched the video a week or so ago and thought it made some good points and brought up some things I didn’t know about, but that I think it could be improved upon and made stronger in certain ways. I also believe that too often the “discourse” is really just people posting their opinions on Twitter or YouTube or whatever platform they choose without ever engaging in actual, real Conversation with other people, so here is my attempt to make a Conversation with this video as the subject.

“Players get a constant influx of content, and developers get a constant influx of money.”

I think the word usage of developers is a little dishonest here when it comes to who receives the majority of money a game makes, especially when comparing different studios and their owners/publishers. In this beginning montage we view gameplay footage from: Sea of Thieves, Overwatch 2, No Man’s Sky, Destiny 2, and Diablo IV. Beginning with the basic fact that, the people who are actually working day to day on these games are being paid a salary or an hourly rate regardless of the game’s monumental success or a significant failure. There might be a bonus based on the game’s launch or long term success, but you better hope it relies on a reachable goal, as we know games will sell well but fail to meet a metacritic average that allows a publisher and/or executive to walk away with all that money. This happened to Obsidian Entertainment and Fallout: New Vegas (a game you will be seeing pop up quite often in this video) in 2010 when Bethesda tied the bonus payment to a Metacritic score that Obsidian missed by just one decimal. Sea of Thieves comes from Rare, a Microsoft owned developer and you know Microsoft is funneling any and all financial success that game earns to its various executives such as Phil Spencer, the friendly common man who takes in more money in one year than you or I will ever see in our entire life. Overwatch 2 and Diablo IV are the latest from the Activision owned Blizzard, a company whose independence from its owner has only deteriorated more and more over time to where the two are pretty much indistinguishable from each other nowadays. I believe it was on a Giant Bomb podcast many years ago that they were discussing how Blizzard now is not the same as Blizzard in, say, 2009. The meaning being that Activison had more control over the direction Blizzard takes whereas beforehand Blizzard was free to continue operating as it had successfully for many years. No Man’s Sky is an independently produced game that has been shopped around to various publishers from Sony to 505 Games to Bandai Namco for its physical releases. Hello Games was infamously screwed over by Sony in their marketing of the game. For some, the amount of responsibility or fault between the two I’m sure will be debated forever. Also, in regards to No Man’s Sky appearances going forward, the game has only ever had a one time buy in with all updates and additions being free. Destiny 2 began life as an Activision product, no matter what independence Bungie attempts to trot out as part of their own pride. I do find that NovemberHotel’s comment about the Mental Health Resources tab on Bungie’s website despite them specifically creating a game that takes advantage of the mental state of players and used behavioral psychologist to help them incentivize people to buy into their game with both time and money is a great example of the bullshit corporate speaking to social issues but it only ever being empty words. For these developers who are owned by larger corporations, we all know Bobby Kotick is the one stuffing his pockets with your cosmetic purchase funds, not the engineer or animator or community manager you are yelling at on Twitter, Reddit, etc.

I do agree with the comment that customers are allowing this to happen more than they are not. This reminds me of the infamous Apex Legends “boycott” for August 2022’s season which ended with Apex having the largest new season playerbase of all time. Reddit is NOT representative of the majority of players. Sadly, yes, enough people are willing to pay and buy into these various live service games and that is why we keep seeing them happen despite the mounting failures.

In regards to live service meaning games now have “second chances” at life after launch I do think it is a double edged sword. I think games media can be too much of a forgiving optimist in terms of always having that saving grace of, “Well it could always get better, we’ll see!” which exempts them somehow from doing any real criticism of the game as it exists now. I know games are fluid with the advent of online consoles and patches but I also do agree that games that launch and are “not good,” do seem to get a pass in terms of, “well it could get better.” I do not agree however with the assertion that good reviews = good sales. Okami, Psychonauts, Bayonetta, and Beyond Good & Evil are some great games that were reviewed well but sold poorly. On the flip end, Homefront, Enter the Matrix, Resident Evil 6, Star Wars Battlefront II (2017), and Aliens: Colonial Marines reviewed poorly but were still commercial successes. Reviews don’t matter when it comes to sales. Also the image that first conjured up my interest in writing up a response was when he shows Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, Final Fantasy VII, and Super Mario 64 as masterpieces developers were “forced” to put out due to the lack of post-launch updates. Except, Final Fantasy VII has a infamously bad translation that carried forward to even its release on PSN in 2009. Also, I have the obvious claim that these games are regarded as classics, yes, but don’t act like there aren’t any contemporary games that are regarded as classics upon their day one release: Disco Elysium, Breath of the Wild, and Elden Ring. Let’s not act like every game released in 1996 was a complete and perfect product. I do think it is very telling that he mentions, “But the convenience that comes with patching a game post launch, allows these studios to ship incomplete, buggy, imbalance, and outright broken games with the promise of live service support to address feedback on these issue and fix them later.” He will later go on to feature many clips of Fallout: New Vegas, implicitly as an example of a game done right. Fallout: New Vegas which was infamously criticized for being incomplete, buggy, imbalanced, and outright broken at launch! I was there! You probably were too! Don’t act like Fallout: New Vegas was held as the beacon of how to release a game in 2010 because we know it wasn’t!

I very much agree with live service games being a carrot on the stick in which you are strung along to always come back and buy into their store. I’ve never given into the instinct but I acknowledge it is there that I want to obtain everything that exists for a given game I’m playing, I want to have it “whole” and “complete” but live service games make this impossible on purpose in order to keep you playing and to keep you spending and it is not good for the players. These games being designed to specifically keep you occupied at all times and prey on the FOMO of content is insidious and gross, but again, I lay the blame at the feet of the publishers. I don’t think anyone at Arkane Austin wanted to make Redfall, I think Bethesda, their owner, saw the success of live service games and told Arkane to make one regardless of their own interests. I doubt Gotham Knights was the game WB Games Montréal wanted to make had they the freedom of choice. 

NovmeberHotel’s argument in favor of in-game currency unlocks and progression systems is pretty much the same that my response has been to things such as lootboxes and battle passes. In my argument though it is Halo: Reach in place of Call of Duty: Black Ops, but the results and principles are largely the same. Cosmetics existed within the game and could be added, but were unlocked via in-game challenges or by earning credits by playing which could then be spent on whatever cosmetic you had unlocked and desired at that time. Going from Halo: Reach to Halo 5, I no longer could reliably unlock a cosmetic I wanted, I had to gamble on lootboxes and hope it was included in whatever drop I received. This was a BAD change. I do, however, prefer the additional maps being automatically added in a large portion of online games instead of premium paid add-ons as it reliably keeps the playerbase shared instead of segmented, which can make contemporary matches in Modern Warfare 2 and Black Ops difficult because not everyone owns all the maps, so they rarely, if ever, appear in matchmaking today. Also I acknowledge the reduction of overall content but I think this is largely to be blamed on the increased fidelity in games that the audience demands. Battleblock can afford total destruction because it is literally blocks of right angles, whereas Battlefield 2042 has to be the most modern shiny technically impressive graphical engine which therefore loses out on destructibility at the scale previously seen. These games are only getting more expensive to make as we race to the bottom in terms of fidelity with more and more people being required to render the textures at larger and larger resolutions at a consistent framerate. I do agree that modern games appear to revolve around profiting off of FOMO and whale players.

I do bemoan that single player games are now also introducing battle passes and microtransactions, Ubisoft being the primary offender in this regard. I will also always cheer on those who point out how hostile publishers are to modders and fan-created works that improve upon the original game. Modding, piracy, emulation, and all of their ilk are worthy of praise and support and have done more for the medium than pretty much all major publishers combined.

I’m not entirely sure if I believe Live Service is here to stay. I really hate that Sony has twelve live service games in production (whether the disappointing live service adaptation of Marathon remains to be seen) but I do think the amount of failures, specifically financial failures, will be something the decision makers will be taking into account as they continue to pile up. 

#Video Games #Criticism #writing #NovemberHotel #live service ruined gaming #response #discourse #Youtube

[theaccidentlawyersposts]

Just how to Pick a Vehicle Crash Lawyer

Selecting the right vehicle accident legal representative is a crucial part of your lawful healing. A vehicle crash attorney will have accessibility to a variety of resources to develop your case and confirm your instance. Right here are some ideas for choosing the most effective attorney for your case. Acquire the police report as soon as possible after a collision, take photos of both automobiles involved, as well as tape-record the scene of the mishap on video. List any type of minor information that you might keep in mind, because they could be vital to your situation. Maintain all clinical records, as well as don't talk about the information of the accident with anyone however a truck crash attorney. Damages for discomfort and also suffering can consist of the length of recuperation, the level of discomfort as well as injury, as well as the emotional distress. Visit this website https://nevadaaccidentinjurylawyers.com/ to learn more about accident lawyers.

Problems to the individual's life can include psychological distress, mental wellness problems, scarring, and loss of life. The degree of pain an individual experiences relies on the seriousness of their injuries. The trucking industry is greatly regulated by government as well as state regulations. Each state has a department of transport as well as is mandated by legislation to regulate interstate commercial trucking. A vehicle accident attorney will certainly be able to function very closely with these firms to discover the very best remedy for your case. Insurer are educated responsible the target as high as feasible, and an experienced truck crash attorney can aid prove the various other party was at fault and also get you a reasonable negotiation. Usually, trucking firms have lawyers on team, and also they will try to minimize the amount of blame that should fall on the driver.

A las vegas truck accident lawyer with experience in vehicle crashes knows just how to work out with insurer to get a beneficial settlement for the victim. As well as if the various other event has insurance, it can help to ensure your insurance provider spends for all prices. The injuries triggered by a truck crash are commonly significant as well as even deadly. Trucking companies need to follow Federal Electric motor Carrier Safety and security Laws in terms of hours of solution as well as devices. Exhaustion is among the leading root causes of truck crashes. Despite this, victims have to act rapidly to preserve evidence and also protect against loss of proof. This is why it is so important to work with a vehicle crash lawyer. Along with assessing your injuries, an attorney will certainly figure out whether or not a truck chauffeur's interruption was the cause of the collision.

 Injuries received by truckers in New york city should be taken seriously. Injuries can recently or perhaps months, and some people may also encounter lifelong disability otherwise treated effectively. As a result, it is essential to maintain a truck crash lawyer as soon as possible. If you wait also long, you could miss out on beneficial payment. If you stop working to act quickly, you may have shed your opportunity to get the payment you require. Truck crashes frequently have several responsible parties. While the chauffeur is undoubtedly at fault, the trucking business can likewise be held accountable for the actions of the chauffeur. Sometimes, a trucking firm can be held vicariously accountable for the activities of its chauffeurs. A lawyer can assist you prove this by gathering proof to support your claim. For instance, if the trucking company had actually failed to check the vehicle for hazardous road conditions, the vehicle driver could be delegated the mishap.

Check out this link https://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Personal_injury_lawyer for a more and better understanding of this topic.

[theliterateape]

Finding Purpose in a World on Fire

by Don Hall

For an awful lot of people, the two years of COVID caused them to question their existence, the framework within they worked and survived. Not so much for me. I remained gainfully employed throughout; I even made a job change in the midst.

No, I had no existential crisis until I was unceremoniously punched in the throat with the knowledge of what my wife was doing during that dark period. While I was working in a casino for the first half and researching data privacy and writing marketing collateral for the second half in order to do that most American thing—make the cash, pay the bills, keep the credit score from plummeting—she had created an entire life apart from our marriage.

So, we divorced in record (Vegas) time and now I get to have my existential crisis. Mind you, I genuinely hold nothing against her. That's how life unfolds sometimes and choices we don't think through come to bite us in the ass or wound those whom we love.

It does, sometimes, oftentimes, leave one of those involved at a place where starting over from scratch presents itself. At my age, starting over is daunting to say the least. I recognize that hundreds of thousands of people over the course of the past three years or so have had a similar What the fuck happened to my life and now what am I going to do? scenario. Small restaurateurs, bar owners, local retail shop keepers—the pandemic destroyed far more in its wake than merely those who contracted the virus.

“Then it was that the thought of death burst into my daily life. I would measure the years separating me from my end. I would look for examples of men of my age who were already dead. And I was tormented by the thought that I might not have time to accomplish my task. What task? I had no idea. Frankly, was what I was doing worth continuing?” ― Albert Camus, The Fall

Existence after leaving Chicago went from the feeling of creating some sort of legacy to the day-to-day grind of survival. Work the gig, make the money, pay the bills. Las Vegas doesn't seem to need anyone like me with my specific set of skills. That certainly isn't the fault of the city. Like so many things, I leapt before I looked and came to Sin City without having an accurate concept of the place.

At the time I wrote that Las Vegas Stinks... of Possibility:

That’s the thing about this move. It could be Alpine — deceptive promise with hopes dashed to the ground. It could be Treasure — all possibility and anticipation. We’ll certainly see in the new year which one it is but for right now, Las Vegas stinks… of opportunity, potential, possibilities undreamt of, and a genuine sense of something different for which to look forward.

These days, it's difficult to see it through that patina of potential. As soon as I left the casino gig, I recognized that I had zero interest in working for a casino or a hotel in Las Vegas. Hospitality designed exclusively to cater to our worst instincts combined with the manipulative goal of separating tourists from their life savings left a stink I couldn't abide. Outside of that industry, there just aren't enough interesting jobs left in the area. Strip away the Strip and this is a tiny place.

Aside from the lack of opportunities for myself, I find that the atmosphere, the encouraged debauchery, has taken something from me I can't get back. Vegas was for she and I, together. We aren’t together anymore. My ability to find any sense of joy in this city has vanished.

Step one of my existential crisis solved. Leave Las Vegas (but not in a Nick Cage, die by alcoholism way, because he did it better than I would). 

Step two: now what?

I had entertained the idea of taking a year to couch-surf, checking out, and traveling the country. Then I was watching Pulp Fiction the other night:

Jules: Well, that's what I've been sitting here contemplating. First, I'm going to deliver this case to Marsellus, then, basically, I'm just going to walk the Earth.

Vincent: What'cha mean, "walk the Earth"?

Jules: You know, like Caine in Kung Fu: walk from place to place, meet people, get into adventures.

Vincent: And how long do you intend to walk the Earth?

Jules: Until God puts me where He wants me to be.

Vincent: And what if He don't do that?

Jules: If it takes forever, then I'll walk forever.

Vincent: So you decided to be a bum?

Jules: I'll just be Jules, Vincent; no more, no less.

Vincent: No, Jules. You've decided to be a bum. Just like those pieces of shit out there who beg for change, sleep in garbage bins and eat what I throw away. They got a name for that, Jules: it's called "a bum". And without a job, a residence or legal tender, that's exactly what you're going to be: a fucking bum.

I don't do well with aimlessness. In this case, Vincent Vega is 100% correct. The idea sounds romantic and all-Kerouac, shuffling around the country, town to town. The reality is some nights sleeping in a Prius, bad choices of food, fewer showers, and no place to receive mail.

And still... Now what?

Finding the where is a bit of a preoccupation. I suppose I need a place to focus on in order to get moving. After hours and hours of research, I've decided on Denver. All the things I miss about Chicago—bookstores, small arts venues, jazz, a robust arts community, nonprofit industry designed to improve the world—are there. I've lived on the East Coast, the South, the Midwest, and the Desert. Never lived in the Mountains, so that works for me.

I also need to keep in mind that my father is in ill health and my mother needs some help. They've offered to put me up in Kansas for a time so I can be of assistance. My ego alerts me that this is moving home with my parents (which at twenty-five seems somewhat reasonable but at fifty-six feels like giving up) but my ego is a problem. I need some time to rebuild my existence; they need some help. Win-win.

On the ApeCast a few weeks ago, Joe and I talked. Himmel was out of the country and Joe stepped up for co-hosting duties. We talked about fun stuff and then we dove into a touchier topic. I called it Old White Guy Problems. We talked around the idea of being a man of a certain age and feeling like starting over. After decades of experiences and achievements finding yourself with nothing material to show for it.

Joe confessed that at sixty-one, he didn't anticipate working three part-time jobs to simply pay rent on a Bronzeville apartment by himself. As we talked, I recognized that while my specific reasons for my life blowing up in my face were unique, this state of being—older, with a serious amount of life experience and an impressive resume, completely adrift, and still struggling with basic survival—is not unusual.

"All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better." — Ralph Waldo Emerson

That's the reframe. Perspective is everything. 

The specifics of where I live and what I do to pay the bills is ultimately less crucial than why I do what I do. What purpose do I serve? Am I merely a creature of consumption and survival or is there something more than drives me? These are questions I'd guess an awful lot of people are asking right now. COVID shocked the world into a dark gaze into the void of routine and comfort, of complacency in the face of chaos just at bey.

The bizarrely beautiful aspect of these moments of self doubt and wonder at the point of it all is that those things that consumed me during that time of daily grind, living check-to-check, accomplishing more in terms of paying those unceasing bills than embracing the awful complexity of life mean almost nothing.

The cultural debates over CRT, trans rights, the environment, Trump, Amber Heard, Netflix, Elon Musk, abortion, guns, and crime suddenly seem mostly silly. Writing think-pieces about these cursory issues immediately feels like a waste of time.

Finding purpose when the world is on fire is the challenge. Some find a cause. Some find a god. Some lose their minds. A few—really, a tiny few—do all three and become hateful partisans spending their days looking to shame one another for not embracing their cause, their god, their insanity.

My purpose seems to be creation. I used to create theater, then events, then stories. Now, I want to create books. But for whom to read them? And does that actually matter? Who are the books for?

In Stephen King's twenty rules for writing, the number one rule is:

First write for yourself, and then worry about the audience. “When you write a story, you’re telling yourself the story. When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story."

Joe tells me on the ApeCast that during one of his three part-time jobs, the one that often requires him to stand on a boat for hours with nothing to do but be present, he engages in a mindful meditation. He thinks in a loop "Compassion, honesty, and humor." It keeps him grounded and gives him a picture of how he wants to be seen in the world. Knowing Joe the way I know him, I'd say his meditation is doing the trick because he is one of the most compassionate, honest, and funny humans I know.

It reminds me of a Steven Covey exercise I used to do with my eighth grade students. "Begin with an End in Mind." The exercise was to write three eulogies for your own funeral from the perspective of a family member, a friend, and a co-worker. The idea is that by writing what others will say about you once you're gone, you define how you want to be seen in the world while alive.

Today, that exercise places an awful lot of priority on the opinions of others so it doesn't quite work for me. That being said, there is benefit from some iteration of it, I believe.

Perspective. Reframing.

"Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I’ve said before, bugs in amber."―Kurt Vonnegut

[pyreo]

I’m trying to articulate the difference Guild Wars has from other fantasy games that take place on a ‘stop this dude from causing the end of the world’ basis. Like, it’s not about stopping a single villain’s tirade against existence. This isn’t the same vein as Final Fantasy or Dragon Age Inquisition or TES Oblivion/Online.

GW as a series is about the apocalypse, but not so much the single victory of averting it as the things people have to do to achieve it. In effect I’d compare the GW take on the apocalypse to something more like Fallout as a series, in that it’s not saving the world that’s the main focal point, but using 'the end of things’ as a backdrop to investigate the faults in society and individuals.

Like, GW1 starts with the apocalypse. It happens the same day you begin playing. You think you’re being introduced to some relatable pastoral idealism, and then it’s instantly nuked to all fuck. The rest of the game is spent holding back world end 2: your own god hates you, but for you, it legitimately did already happen.

The first arc of GW1 is literally dragging yourself out of hell.

And Orr? The nation favoured by the gods themselves and you only see it after it’s spent two centuries underwater. The solemn music, the oil-slick sky, everything crumbling around you, with no visual reference for when it was alive and home to a whole city of people.

There is so much thematic weight behind losing everything you know and the visuals for it are right there. Reminding you it’s happened before and it’ll happen again. And it’s not that you need to have a big boss fight with one guy who doesn’t like you, it’s that nature itself simply has priorities other than keeping you around.

It’s really about forming a world protection strategy that you can bring all tribes and state leaders on board with. Think about the World Summit chapter and how the focus of the narrative is on structural change. Every step from the beginning has been based around community organisation and everyone taking part in protecting the world, not a single hero. Like the long hallway at the end of All or Nothing in which ten completely different and sometimes opposed groups have come to serve under your command and it puts in the effort to define them all with goals and prejudices and made you earn their trust. It’s so similar to walking the dam at the end of Fallout New Vegas down to the fact you’re trying to forge a world that supports everyone instead of one that destroys itself.

And the other thing is - your involvement isn’t really about you. The Commander isn’t where they are, ending up as the face of resistance against near-certain doom because they are the world’s best strategist. You really did just happen to be there and fall into place. Dragon’s Watch is involved emotionally more than professionally. And the entire plan for setting the world right isn’t your plan, it’s been in motion for thousands of years, passed from generations down, across different species, knowing they’d die out before seeing it through. You and Aurene are the end result of a chain of dominoes and knowing that means it’s not just your story. It’s all linked, it’s weighted, and it’s so heavy.

This game has never been individualistic and I think that’s one of its strongest points.

#gw2

[atsumiye]

put a ring on it!

summary: your first trip to vegas was supposed to be a fun girls trip that included getting drunk, going to clubs, and even going home with a few strangers. however, that all comes to a halt when you lose your job, get wasted, end up in a strangers bed and now your married? with divorce off the table for a while, how do you two manage being exposed to the public? by continuing with a (now legal) fake marriage of course.

masterlist ll fifteen ll sixteen ll seventeen

“so what’s your plan for tonight then?” sofia continues rubbing your back as she speaks, “my threat of making his life miserable still stands.”

you laugh, turning to look at her, “i appreciate the help but i’ll just move on i guess? i mean, it isn’t really moving on. we were never together but i’ll get over my crush and get through the rest of the year. it’s almost time to meet the lawyer too, so i’ll be fine.”

sofia rolls her eyes, “if you were fine you wouldn’t have been sad about the whole situation.”

“i wasn’t sad! just....shocked!” you sigh and sink lower into the couch, "look, he never really did anything wrong. from what i've been told about her, he doesn't like her. so its not like he invited her over on purpose. and after hearing how horrible she was to him? i would be shocked to see her too."

you bring your head up from the back of the couch to look at sofia, "honestly, this just solidified the idea that we aren't really together. we will just be a funny story to tell in a few years! and now that i think about it, id much rather have him as a friend than not have him at all."

its silent for a few moments as you both let your thoughts sink in, "damn y/n, when did you get so grown up."

you scoff, "marriage can do that to you."

sofia and you continue onto other topics of discussion before she leaves to give you time to set everything up for tooru.

you rehearsed the main ideas you wanted to mention to him, the first being to apologize. but now as he sits on your couch, you can't remember a single thing you wanted to say.

but you had to be the first one to speak. you initiated this meeting. you ran away without an explanation when his ex girlfriend came. and you made him seem like the bad guy in the end, even though he wasn't.

"im really sorry for just running away the other day." you look down at your lap and begin to pick at your fingernail, "i should have stayed for literally 5 more seconds and i think things would have turned out differently."

you hear him laugh, "yeah, i would have told you that i was trying to push her off of me. and that i haven't seen her in a few years, and truly never wanted to see her again."

you meet his eyes and take a deep breath, "we were just having such a good time and i think i just got a bit too into the role of being your wife, you know? so it kind of made me develop a small crush on you?"

"y/n-"

"no, its okay tooru." you smile up at him, "it was my fault for taking things too seriously, because im not actually your wife or girlfriend or anything like that. we are just two strangers who ended up being apart of each others lives in a weird way. so im not mad and i hope you aren't mad at me either. lets just move on and forget it. we can pretend like that day and my little crush never happened."

he is silent for a second, "is that really how you feel?" he whispers out. and maybe if your heart wasn't hurting, you would have missed the way his eyes got a bit misty before he blinked it away.

"yeah. i think that's the best for us both."

he nods slowly, taking a deep breath before plastering a big smile on his face, "well, you'll still come to my game won't you?"

"of course! im still your wife aren't i?" you nudge him with your elbow and smile back at him.

he turns to face forward, his smile dropping from his face completley.

you were going to move on. that was final, and as much as it hurt you to come to the conclusion, you would both end up being strangers again at some point in the future. the marriage wasn't real beyond legal aspects, you both were drunk and everything you've felt up to this point in your relationship was just caused by the idea of having a happy ever after.

so you'd move on. life would continue, the world would keep spinning and maybe if you were lucky, you'd get to keep tooru by your side for just a little while longer.

sixteen- strangers again

facts:

- y/n bought all of tooru's favorite snacks that morning

- tooru hasnt heard from valentina since that night

- sofia went to go visit her parents but told y/n that she would come back if y/n needed her too

- tooru left 10 minutes after their conversation began

- the game tooru is talking about is his first game of the season

- there will be lots of paparazzi and companies, and could help push tooru as a player

- they both posted the instagram photos after tooru left

- they didnt discuss it both being in black and white before hand, but the comments were loving the way they matched their posts

- let me know what you think <33

taglist: @decaffeinatedtealover @broken-from-fandoms @nanamisbento @t2iara @rintarovibes @bakarinnie @tooru-luvs @szeonn @jojowantstocry @sunavf @geektastic84 @lilith412426 @speakfrenchbetweenmythighs @kenmaslov3r @crustycookiebestie @art-junkie-13 @joy-laufeyson @tetsuhoes @neologyro @chirity-chu @shoyotime @sakusasimpbot @captonite @definitely-yours @kamalymaly @iamapotat @iwasource @putmeinyourdeathnote @ashwontcare @faithfulferns @fullyproblematicstudent @earthinlatin16 @riceballsandanime @sadcrxissant @kvroomi @cinderella-2003 @theoriginaleclipse @amarinthe @alicesprimary @rat-p1ss

#put a ring on it! #haikyuu smau #hq smau #oikawa smau #oikawa tooru smau #oikawa tooru #oikawa angst #oikawa fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #hq #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #hq fluff #hq angst #oikawa x fem!reader #haikyuu x f!reader #oikawa x f!reader #hq x f!reader

[goddessofmischief]

Oh. My. God. Requests are open for my dearest love Boris??? I simply must request something — with adult Boris, if possible? Maybe reader is Theo’s younger sister and she and Boris had a really angsty and bitter relationship back in Vegas because she didn’t like that he was practically stealing her brother from her. When he comes back into Theo’s life in New York, though, and he comes and finds her at the library she works at, things have thawed out between them. There’s still tension, but they discover it’s a tension of a different sort… Thanks so much, love!

A/N: Adult Boris is my favorite!!! I hope you don't mind - I changed the request a little, I hope that’s okay. Requests open!

Second Chance - Boris Pavlikovsky x Reader

...

Working at a museum had its perks.

For one, you got to stay inside all day. You cleaned things, located things. You were far away from your experiences during the Vegas years... far away from the things that haunted you.

Well, until today-

When a certain dark-haired figure of your past stumbled into your workroom, and back into your life again.

"Boris,” you stammer, attempting to keep the ladder you balanced on steady. “You’re...”

“Here. Yes, I know.”

He studies you.

“You look surprised.”

“I am surprised,” you manage. “...Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

"You work in a museum,” Boris says, and though he’s only stating a fact, there’s something else behind it, some other meaning. “My God... the irony. Does Potter like this?”

Potter... Boris’ stupid nickname for your brother. It had been years since you’d thought about it. Theo had been much more interesting as ‘Potter,’ he hadn’t been quite the same when he’d reverted back to his given name.

You shut a book, properly tucking into the shelf on which it belonged.

“I don’t much care for what my brother likes, to be honest - I think I gave that up when we started seeing each other.”

Boris doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

“Is ‘seeing each other’ how you’d want to call it, anyway? You were touchy about that, I remember - I wasn’t your ‘girlfriend,’ I was just someone you saw sometimes.”

“I am sorry for that.”

“That’s why we broke up, you know-”

“Oh, no,” Boris insisted. “No - I broke up with you, remember? I left you.”

“Because you got scared of being in a serious relationship-”

“No. Because you were stupid, and you overdosed, and it scared the hell out of me.”

You’re silent, for a moment - you’re angry, you decide, and deservedly so. Who did he think he was, showing up like this? He didn’t know anything about you, who you were now. You had a job, a life.

You didn’t need him anymore.

“I overdosed,” you managed, “Because of you.”

“...I am sorry for that also. But you can’t pin that on me-”

“Of course I can. I have.”

“Please, let me to settle it - it is my fault in circumstance only. The situation was... not my fault.”

“What’s the difference?”

"You were abandoned by your father, practically, your mother was dead. Theo was in a world of his own. You had almost nothing, except me. You and I... we had a fight. Like all people do! All couples do! And if it were any other couple, you could have handled it and moved on. But I... was all you had. So mistakes were made. Risks were taken.”

“Wow,” you say, after a moment. “Well, Boris, I’m really glad you’ve had something to tell yourself all these years - something that takes some of the guilt away, I hope.”

“It’s still there, I promise you.”

For what is apparently the first time (though you suspect he’s seen it all along) he takes note of the diamond ring on your hand.

“...You’re engaged.”

You nod. He's quiet.

“Who is it?”

“Tom Cable,” you respond, quietly, as if speaking it makes it true.

“Tom Cable? Surely not the Tom Cable, long hated enemy of your brother’s?”

“One and the same, Pavlikovsky.”

He shakes his head.

“I don't believe it. Well, I almost do. He’s attractive... yes?”

“Very. Attractive. Wealthy. Plus, he doesn’t sell drugs - that’s a big one, for me.”

You’re silent together, for a moment.

“Why’d you come, Boris?”

He shrugs.

“I wanted to see you.”

“You could’ve done it thousands times before. Why today?”

“...I ran into your brother.”

You go pale, and you can barely stammer out-

“What happened?”

Boris shrugs again.

“He’s angry with me. Things were good, then... I told him about the painting, and he became angry with me.”

You cock your head to the side, playing dumb.

“Painting... uh... what painting?”

“Dorogoy, please. I know. Didn't you suspect me, when it went missing?”

“What?!”

“You, of all people... I thought you’d be able to see what Potter didn’t. I swapped out the painting for an old textbook, many years ago.”

You shook your head.

“No, I, uh... God.”

Theo must be devastated.

"Luckily, I’ve promised to help him get it back.”

“How?”

Boris laughs.

“I’m involved with some suspicious dealings. I have connections. We will find it... I promise you.”

He studies you.

“And, when we do... I would like you to come with us.”

“Come with you?”

“Yes! To keep Potter calm. He knows I will do nothing to cause him harm as long as you are there. Besides, you could help us.”

“Insane, Boris - you’re insane- I’m engaged, it’s not happening-”

You stumble on the ladder, slightly, and Boris helps you down.

"You dropped this,” he says, calmly, and he hands you a book that tumbled to the floor.

“Yes, well, uh...” you exhale. “I can’t do it, Boris. I’m sorry.”

He nods.

“I understand,” Boris promises. “But, if you change your mind... you’ll reach out to me, yes? Your brother will know how.”

You smile, slightly, and he presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“Goodbye.”

...

Boris Pavlikovsky Taglist (Open)

@lot0f-trouble

#boris pavlikovsky #boris pavilkovsky x reader #the goldfinch #anuerin barnard #finn wolfhard imagine #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard #aneurin barnard x reader #adult boris pavlikovsky #boris pavlikovsky x reader

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Austin Chronicle Hot Sauce Festival

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes, Nancy Gillian, Tommy Vega

Warnings: Vomiting

Summary: A day of work at a festival takes a sudden turn when a certain policeman succumbs to the heat of the day. It's a good thing his boyfriend is a paramedic. Written for the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: Dehydration.

All the love in the world to @bluenet13​ who beta reads everything, comments on everything, and is just the actual best.

Read on AO3

“It feels like we’re standing directly on the surface of the sun,” T.K. griped as he reached for his thousandth water bottle of the day. “How has this entire state not melted off the face of the earth yet?”

“Yes because being buried in four feet of snow sounds infinitely better,” Nancy shot back as she handed a cooling towel to a teenager.

“It does right now,” T.K. told her. “I would pay a lot of money for a blizzard to roll in and dump snow and ice and mayhem on us all.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Tommy said, prepping a bag of saline for a middle aged man on the cot next to her.

“Cap, it’s Texas,” Nancy said. “When is it ever gonna snow in Texas?”

Tommy smiled enigmatically. “Just saying, you never know.”

They had volunteered to take a shift in the medical tent at the Austin Chronicle Hot Sauce Festival on what was turning out to be the hottest day of the summer yet. The thermometer read 110 degrees and even in the shade of their tent they were feeling the effects. They were handing out water and cooling towels and taking care of a steady stream of fallen event goers who were succumbing to the heat with everything from sunburn to heat stroke. 

“I think my shoes are melting to the asphalt,” T.K. said, picking up his feet to check.

“Ugh, Cap, seriously I’m going to strip off and go naked in a minute,” Nancy said, pulling at the collar of her sweaty t-shirt. 

“Drink some water,” Tommy advised, immune to their childlike shenanigans and whining. “The sun should start to drop in an hour and that’ll cool things down a bit.”

“By a bit do you mean like forty degrees? Because that’s about what it’s going to take to get anyone comfortable,” T.K. told her. 

“Hey,” Nancy caught his eye and nodded toward something outside the tent.

T.K. followed her gaze and his complaints about the heat vanishing as he spotted his boyfriend across the way. Carlos was working security today, but T.K. hadn’t seen him since they’d arrived. There had only been time for a quick hello and then they were busy setting up their tent. Carlos had disappeared into the crowd and now T.K. watched as he knelt beside a little boy who had dropped his cotton candy and appeared inconsolable, the sweet sugar melting immediately into a sticky puddle on the ground.

“Whew, I think it just went up another few degrees in here,” Tommy teased. “The way you two look at each other could melt an iceberg.”

T.K. rolled his eyes at his boss’ teasing, but the silly smile he was wearing stayed in place. He loved being able to spot his boyfriend when they were both working. There was something comforting about seeing the little pieces of each other’s days. 

The little boy’s dad appeared, a new cotton candy in hand and Carlos rose as they walked away, putting his hands on his hips and looking in the direction of the medical tent. T.K. sent him a wave, but Carlos didn’t seem to notice. T.K. watched as his boyfriend pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. A wisp of concern threaded its way through T.K.’s center. “Does he look weird to you?” he asked.

“What?” Nancy said, distracted by a stack of ice packs that had just gone tumbling to the ground.

“Carlos, he doesn’t look right.”

“It’s like a thousand freaking degrees out here. If Carlos looks slightly less god-like today than usual, that’s not his fault,” Nancy huffed, wiping a strand of sweaty, limp hair from her forehead.

“No, I think something’s wrong,” T.K. said, taking a few steps toward the edge of the tent. 

Carlos leaned against the side of a food stall and T.K.’s concern doubled. “Cap,” he said, turning to ask for permission.

“Go,” Tommy told him with a nod. “We’re good in here for a couple minutes.”

He didn’t hesitate, moving quickly through the crowd, sidestepping the puddle of cotton candy and weaving past a man carrying a large cloud of balloons to reach Carlos’ side.

His boyfriend didn’t look up as he approached, eyes closed, his face pale, breathing labored. “Hey,” T.K. said when he reached Carlos’ side.

Carlos opened his eyes slowly, like it was taking him a lot of effort. “Oh, hey,” he said, giving T.K. a lopsided smile.

“Are you okay?” T.K. asked, putting a hand to Carlos’ forehead and reaching for his wrist to take his pulse.

“I’m uh, I don’t know,” he admitted, eyes squinting against the light. “I feel a little off.”

T.K.’s felt his own pulse quicken. It was very unlike Carlos to admit he was unwell, especially when he was working. “Off how?” he asked, although he already had a creeping suspicion. At the very least his boyfriend was dehydrated, and based on his symptoms it seemed like he was quickly heading downhill toward something more serious.

“My head is…” Carlos kind of trailed off, swallowing hard again, a hand going to his stomach.

T.K. cupped his cheek. Carlos’ eyes were slightly glazed and he seemed unsteady on his feet. “Let’s get you out of the heat, all right?” T.K. said, sliding an arm around his waist and pulling him close.

“I need to get back—“

“Not right now you don’t,” T.K. said firmly. “Just a few minutes okay?”

Carlos nodded and leaned heavily on him, both of them walking slowly toward the medical tent. T.K. felt the moment his knees gave out, sending both of them sagging toward the ground. “Whoa, Carlos hey!” he shouted, struggling to keep them both upright.

Nancy vaulted over a picnic bench and came running toward them, putting her arm under Carlos’ other shoulder so they could walk him toward the tent and deposit him on a cot. “I’m okay,” he mumbled as they got him situated.

“No babe, you’re not,” T.K. said worriedly, reaching for his stethoscope.

“Carlos, I’m about to get a little frisky with you, but I don’t think T.K. will mind, all right?” Nancy said as she began unbuttoning Carlos’ uniform.

His Austin PD t-shirt underneath was soaked with sweat, which was better than the alternative in this case, but still not great T.K. thought grimly as he took his boyfriend’s blood pressure.

“T.K. what do you need?” Tommy called out from the other side of the tent where she was dealing with a woman in a similar situation.

“I think it’s borderline heat stroke,” T.K. called out. “Pulse is rapid and weak, skin is clammy.”

“Get him started on saline,” Tommy directed. “And if he can keep some liquid down we’ve got Gatorade over there.” She nodded toward a large Igloo cooler, full of ice, water, and sports drinks.

“I got it,” Nancy said, grabbing a bottle as T.K. prepped a line and deftly inserted it into his boyfriend’s arm. 

“Let’s get some wet towels too,” T.K. said. 

“On it.” Nancy was already moving, reaching for a stack of folded towels brought for just this purpose. 

They put cool cloths on his forehead, into his armpits, around his groin. Carlos shivered eyes tightly closed in discomfort, but he didn’t complain. 

“How you doing babe?” T.K. asked, hands cracking open a water bottle and pouring it over another towel until the entire thing was damp.

“My head’s spinning,” Carlos said, eyes closed, breathing shallow and fast, causing his chest to heave. 

“I’m sorry,” T.K. said sympathetically, sparing half a second to press a kiss to his forehead, frowning at the heat rolling off his skin. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise. This IV is going to help with the dehydration and we’re going to use these wet towels to cool you off. Just hang in there.”

Another volunteer medic arrived at the tent, a gurney in tow. “Got another one for you Gillian!” he called. 

Nancy looked at T.K. who nodded. “I’m good,” he said. “Go ahead.”

He settled onto a folding chair by Carlos’ head. “Let’s see if you can drink some of this, okay?” he asked, opening a bottle of Gatorade.

He helped Carlos lift his head and take a few sips. Carlos winced as the flavor hit his tongue. “Sorry,” T.K. said. “I know it’s not your favorite, but this is what they gave us.”

“It’s fine,” Carlos said, his voice breathy and strained.

T.K. took a wet towel and ran it gently across his forehead, over his cheeks, down his neck. “Feeling any better?” he asked, glancing up at the IV to make sure it was still doing its work. A quarter of the bag was gone so hopefully Carlos would feel the effects soon.

“Maybe?” Carlos said, his face still tight with discomfort. “I just feel weird.”

He grimaced and stiffened. “What’s wrong?” T.K. asked.

“My stomach.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t feel good.”

T.K. grabbed an emesis bag just in time, propping Carlos up so he could empty the Gatorade from his stomach. He groaned as he laid back down and T.K. began replacing the now warm towels with cooler, wetter ones. 

“Deep breaths,” T.K. encouraged as Carlos swallowed and frowned at the acrid taste now in his mouth. “This is going to pass, I promise.”

He resumed running the cool cloth over Carlos’ face. “What happened babe? You’ve clearly been feeling like crap for a while. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I don’t know,” Carlos said, closing his eyes. “It’s been busy. Lost kids, lost purses, teenagers looking for trouble.”

“I know, but you still have to take care of yourself,” T.K. said.

“Save the lecture T.K.,” Tommy said quietly as she walked by with a box of mini sunscreen bottles. 

T.K. closed his mouth. She was right. Carlos wasn’t in any shape to be told he’d messed up, the consequences were enough of a reminder. 

T.K. threaded his fingers through Carlos’ sweaty curls. “How’s the stomach?” he asked.

“Better,” Carlos said.

Color was coming back to his face and his breathing had slowed. “Let’s try some more Gatorade okay?” T.K. suggested.

Carlos wrinkled his nose but nodded. This time the liquid stayed down and T.K. left him to sip it on his own, while he tended to a few other patients who had begun to trickle in.

He dealt with a skinned knee, a teenager who’d overindulged on corn dogs, and a man who thought he was having a heart attack but it turned out he’d also overindulged on corn dogs. “Heartburn’s a bitch,” T.K. told him sympathetically as he doled out Pepto Bismol.

“Dude, where do you think you’re going?” T.K. heard Nancy ask from behind him.

He turned to find Carlos re-buttoning his uniform shirt, his legs hanging over the edge of the cot. “I’m still at work,” Carlos was telling her. “I need to get back.”

“Buddy you freaking passed out in your boyfriend’s arms like a woman in a regency novel half an hour ago. He’s not going to let you leave,” Nancy told him, arms crossed.

“Nance, come on,” Carlos said, flashing her that charming, sweet face that usually got him whatever he wanted. “I’m fine. You’ve got other people to worry about, let me get out of your hair.”

He stood up and T.K. watched in amusement as Nancy bodily blocked his path. “Don’t give me that look Reyes. Those eyes only work on your boyfriend,” she told him. “Sit down or be sedated.”

“Nancy—“

“You heard me.”

Carlos sat back down on the cot. Nancy nodded. “Good choice.”

She moved toward T.K. who sent her a grateful smile. “Thanks for the assist.”

Nancy thrust her chin up at him and gave him a fist bump. “I got your back.”

T.K. finished up with heartburn man, stripping off his gloves to put on a fresh pair as he walked back to Carlos’ cot. “Smart to stay on Nancy’s good side,” T.K. told him with an amused smile. 

“Yeah she’s kind of terrifying when she’s working,” Carlos said, peeking around him to make sure she wasn’t listening.

T.K. took Carlos’ pulse and his temperature, before reaching for his stethoscope and a bp cuff. “How’s your headache?” he asked.

“It’s fine.”

“Fine? Or gone?” T.K. asked.

Carlos avoided his gaze. “It’s fine,” he repeated.

T.K. sighed and leveled him with a look. “Babe.”

“It’s just a headache,” Carlos said. “People get headaches.”

“Well between that and the fact that your blood pressure is still low, I’d say you’re still dehydrated. Which means you’re not going anywhere.”

“T.K.!”

T.K. cupped the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together and dropping his voice so only Carlos could hear. “I am not sending you back out there today. You’re dehydrated, tired, and have heat exhaustion bordering on heat stroke. It’s not safe. You wouldn’t send me into a firefight unarmed, so please don’t ask me not to do my job for you, okay?”

He felt the fight go out of his boyfriend, another sign that he wasn’t feeling up to par. A clear headed and healthy Carlos Reyes would not have backed down so easily. “I have to radio my boss.”

“Okay. We can do that,” T.K. said. “I want you on another bag of saline.”

“Seriously?”

In response T.K. cupped Carlos’ chin in his hand. “I love you.”

Carlos closed his eyes. “I know. But another entire bag?”

“And a bottle of water,” T.K. said, releasing him and putting a bottle in his hand. “And then you’re going home.”

“I want a second opinion,” Carlos grumbled as T.K. detached the empty IV bag and started a new one.

“In case Nancy didn’t make it clear, we’re all of the same opinion in here. And that opinion is that you shouldn’t die at a Hot Sauce Festival. Not a good look my love.”

#Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Carlos Reyes #T.K. Strand #Nancy Gillian #Whump #Carlos Whump #Tommy Vega #Heat exhaustion #Dehydration #Passing out #Fluffy boys #Sweet boys #Vomiting #Pre-breakup #Boys in love #Badass Nancy #Bad Things Happen Bingo