#self para: street party

[lasunsettia]

para ti papá | miguel o'hara

miguel o'hara & g/n reader (platonic but there's love in everything amirite)

4.2k words

miguel hates wasting time. you hate seeing people pretend to act tough. miscommunication, trauma bonding, and a movie night(?) ensue.

this will be a two parter, so enjoy the first bit of (belated) father's day hurt/comfort... aka the hurt

also available on ao3

“hey! you took all the frosting!”

“you did smush the cupcake on my nose, cariño.”

swipe.

“dad, what’s a hickey? and why does uncle gabriel say you have to keep covering them up?”

“… i’ll tell you when you’re older.”

swipe.

“if spider-man can stay up past 10 pm, why can’t i?”

“mija, he’s way older and has a whole nueva york to defend. you still need me to tie your shoes. and you call pigeons street chickens.”

“okay i’m returning your father’s day gift.”

“wait what-”

swipe.

“i love you dad. even if you stink sometimes.”

“hey now, i don’t smell that bad.”

“you sure?”

“… pass. but… i love you too.”

finishing with loud giggles, the final video ends. silence gradually fills the room, the echoes of long-lost laughter fading out. the thrum of miguel’s workstation shifts into white noise.

a fragment of the life miguel had with his daughter, gabriella, lingers on the expanded screen in front of him. the gabi on the screen stays stuck in miguel’s lap, trapped by his arms as he leans down to tickle her. a mischievous grin flashes on that miguel’s face.

but as the screen and that reality flickers away, miguel shuts his eyes. he hangs his head low, letting out a deep sigh. jessica and peter and the others have asked him countless times why he keeps doing this. going over memories of a life that was never his to begin with.

over. and over. and over.

it’s equal parts selfish and self-denying. that world may not have been his. but he still mourns what bits of it he could experience. the joy. the love and safety he could provide. having a genuine reason to smile….

at the same time, he resents himself for the lives he’s destroyed. a whole dimension, gone. all because of his blind longing.

he’s lost too much, inflicted too much pain and destruction, to not remind himself of what he’s fighting for. what the whole spider society is trying to achieve.

“earth to miguel. reality check coming in.”

miguel glances to the side as lyla appears above him, glitching between sitting with her legs crossed and standing with her hands on her hips. he furrows his brow at her sly expression. the heels of his palms dig even deeper into the workstation desk.

“yeah yeah, i’m listening,” miguel exhales. he leans back, swiping away a lingering hologram screen and looking across the surveillance setup. “is there something i should be seeing or…?”

lyla reappears beside the screens. “well, there’s an anomaly on earth-2444. some goons from spider-man noir’s world got sucked up during a botched bank heist.” the surveillance screens flash images and video clips of said anomalies breaking into a banquet hall, holding some attendees hostage and engaging in a standoff with security and police. “made a dinner party a heck of a lot more interesting, buuut technically those people may still be in danger.”

miguel raises an eyebrow. “and noir’s not handling the case himself… why?” the cynical, black and white-dressed vigilante usually loved any excuse to hand troublemakers’ asses to them. especially those from his dimension. it seemed weird to miguel that noir wasn't eagerly rushing to save the day.

“he’s on an in-world crime bust.” lyla points to one of the screens. a brief montage of noir in a standoff flashes and quickly slows to a still photo.

“okay, then alert the local spider-man. this is a one, maybe two-person job. they can handle it and ask for someone on standby if need be.”

“they’re also busy.”

"well then we’ll send someone else.”

miguel grows more irritated by the moment. why is lyla making this more difficult than it has to be?

“there’s no one else to send, miguel.” the videos on the surveillance screens freeze, highlighting the ongoing dimensional deviation that needs addressing.

“en serio, lyla, you’re telling me there’s no one we can dispatch for this?”

“no, miguel.” lyla’s blunt, almost annoyed-sounding response claps back at miguel’s exasperation. she counts off on her fingers as she continues, growing to a human size in front of him. “everyone else we have is sick, on patrol, or on break for today.”

except you.

lyla doesn’t say it, but miguel can feel it in her tone.

he swallows a groan, resting his hands on his hips. it’s a simple job, really. take down a few anomalies. send them back home or toss them in a laser cage overnight. and then get back to trying not to burst a damn blood vessel over preserving the delicate balance of the multiverse.

still, there’s something that tugs him back a bit. makes his body more sore than usual, even though he took his last injection a few days ago. something calls for him to stay put. review the surveillance footage to see if there’s something bigger he can tackle.

or if there’s another video of gabi he can not so subtly revisit and ease his lingering emotional ache with.

“lyla….” miguel cringes a bit at how tired his voice sounds. “i–”

“hold up boss. i got some new info.”

lyla interrupts miguel with a status update. two of the surveillance screens depict a spider on the move, another screen flashing their background notes and mission statistics. “we got a familiar face on the way, but from the looks of things, they may need an assist…”

the meaning behind lyla’s words hits miguel almost immediately. that unmistakable get up and the record of their recent mistakes and mishaps catches his attention.

and so does a roster of the stupid nicknames this spider has referred to miguel by for the last year. lyla’s been keeping a secret record, apparently.

ese pinche pendejo.

the irritation radiates tenfold off miguel as he presses a button on the workstation, initiating its descent. he impatiently taps at his watch while the workstation takes its time. regardless of how shitty he feels today, he’s not going to let this dumbass screw up handling some small antagonists yet again.

“patch me through to them,” miguel demands. “now.”

lyla sighs, glitching to miguel’s shoulder in miniature form. “thought you might say that,” she deadpans.

miguel turns, jumping down the remaining distance between the platform and the floor. he can’t waste any time. he doesn’t want to.

he presses the big yellow dot representing earth-2444 on the watch interface. a burst of blue-hued rays illuminate the entryway to the room before forming the glowing, golden hexagonal portal entrance.

“well, they’re not answering but they know you’re on the way,” lyla reports, appearing next to the portal and giving a mini salute.

miguel mutters under his breath, summoning his mask over his head. taking a deep breath, he steps into the shimmering portal, ready to confront the nuisances awaiting him in earth-2444.

and to knock some damn sense into the idiot that hopefully doesn’t screw things up in the next few minutes.

—

“OW! FUCK ME!”

the baking sheet drops with a loud thud from your hand onto the tiny stove. red hot heat and pain flashes across your fingertips. cursing under your breath, you shake your gloved hand, blowing on it in hopes the pain will quickly subside.

whichever spider person gave you the tip for making your suit gloves heat resistant was a damn liar. they’d be hearing your angry complaints later. for now, you nudge the oven closed with your hip and peek over at the empanadas scattered on the baking sheet. the pastries don’t look half bad, gleaming a nice shade of brown. at the very least, the kitchen air smells absolutely heavenly. hints of savory spices, herbs, and the fillings… it's blissful.

hopefully they’re enough for miguel to forgive my ass, you wish internally. deception and some white lies aren’t exactly your favorite tactics to use. but when it comes to making headstrong leaders slash close-ish friends confront their suppressed emotional turmoil, you decide it’ll do the job.

it’s your way of offering that stoic tight ass some support. you’ve known miguel for a little over a year, and you two weren’t super close friends. sometimes he acted more like he wanted to punch you in the jaw than chat with you about your lives or an upcoming mission. but you ended up crossing paths more often than coworkers who tolerate each other generally do. and the way you both gradually got in the habit of calling each other first for an assist signaled some level of trust. even if you were the one to call on him a little more.

after jessica and peter, you were first in line for lyla to contact when miguel needed to strategize. or pull his head out of his ass. or, in rare moments, have someone to talk to and be a normal person. especially after a particularly rough day.

it was during the rare moments of guard-down vulnerability that you caught glimpses of the little things miguel o'hara usually kept under heavy wraps. like his love for homemade food. how he's somehow only seen a grand total of fifty something movies in his lifetime. and the soul-crushing inner turmoil he held onto on a day like father’s day.

which was today. and without a doubt, you knew miguel would try to act tough and soldier on like it was another boring sunday unless someone did something about it.

you double check that the oven’s turned off before moving to grab a cool drink from the fridge. a variety of sodas, teas, and water with brands parodying those of your world greet you. along with some other basic groceries. you make a mental note to thank the spider of earth-2444 for their generosity.

any other thoughts or drink selection is quickly interrupted by a rapidly growing thrumming sound. you notice too late that the sound isn’t coming from the oven or the refrigerator. a loud banging and crashing emerges from down the hallway.

shit… is that–?

the string of growls and curses in spanish coming from the bathroom answers your question. to your mental checklist, you add any toiletry replacements and bathroom repairs miguel might be wracking up.

“mierda, lyla, where the hell did you send me?”

the muffled yell springs you into action. blindly grabbing a pair of drinks from the fridge - one for you and miguel each - you attempt to cool off your hand while speeding over to the couch. the fridge shuts with a click as you sit down and swipe the remote off the tiny table in front of you. the tv’s loud chimes while turning on send your heartbeat shooting up even faster.

“shut up shut up shut up,” you command under your breath. this whole encounter is feeling less like revealing a surprise and more like awaiting your imminent chewing out on behalf of miguel o’hara. speaking of…

the bathroom door bangs open down the hall. an exasperated snarl spills out of miguel’s mouth, his heavy footsteps thudding against the tiny apartment’s hardwood floors. you nervously shuffle through the viewing options on the tv, finding just the one you had in mind and clicking it right before the footsteps slow.

miguel blinks behind his mask. disbelief fills him for a moment, quickly overshadowed by a cloud of anger. here he is, transported into some random, dimly lit apartment rather than the grand, glowing banquet hall currently under threat. he’d just ripped a tangle of shower curtains out of determination to get out sooner. all for the signs to continue to point to lyla having directed him to the wrong place.

or so he thinks. until he sees the very spider person he’d come to make sure wasn’t making the hostage situation worse. kicking back here. watching some fucking movie.

he calls out your name in a lowered, explanation-demanding voice. “what the hell is this?”

the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. it’s obvious from his tone that he’s beyond pissed. still, maybe a little charm can stun him.

you place the drinks on the table and turn towards miguel, resting an arm on the back of the couch. “it’s a movie night, mig,” you reply casually, nodding back towards the tv. “was waiting for you to show up.”

the eyes of miguel's mask narrow as he takes in the scene, his anger simmering beneath the surface. he had expected to find a high-stakes hostage situation. not a seemingly relaxed movie night in progress.

"we've got a serious situation on our hands, and you're here watching… whatever that is?"

you can practically breathe in the tension in the air. “it’s the godfather,” you start in defense, pulling yourself off the couch and slowly walking towards him. “and i already took care of it.” you mirror miguel’s signature hands on hips intimidation pose, stopping just a small distance in front of him.

“oh, really ?” his voice drips with bitter sarcasm. “you single-handedly saved the day while i was tearing shower curtains? without revealing your face to bystanders? or letting the anomalies almost slip into a whole other universe?”

he’s mocking you now. dragging your failures out to try to put you in your place. but little does he know those screw ups don’t phase you like they normally would.

they were intentional, after all. just bait to lure him in, right here, right now.

tugging your mask off, you meet miguel's gaze with unwavering confidence. "and i made it back here in less than 10 minutes,” you respond. “everyone’s got off days, gorgeous. but i really did handle it this time. you can trust me."

miguel scoffs. “you said the same thing about the prowler from earth-4269. then he broke out of his cage and almost tore a hole through your stomach.”

“ugh, don’t remind me,” you shudder. “hobie still hasn’t let me live that one down. or stopped trying to convince me to get a belly button piercing.”

the mix of skepticism and frustration in miguel’s stare doesn’t waver at your joke. instead, a moment of silence save for the tv in the background falls between the two of you.

“lyla.” miguel finally breaks the lull, turning his attention to the ai assistant appearing beside him. lyla offers a little wave, waiting for instructions. “show me what happened,” he demands.

“sure thing,” lyla chirps, immediately projecting a holographic display in front of miguel.

the room fills with a projected recap of your earlier crime-fighting events. your swift and agile movements as you expertly wrangled the anomalies. tossing and tugging them away from hitting, shooting, or otherwise harming the hostages. the attendees expressing their gratitude as you kicked the bad guys into a portal home.

and the unceremonious ending where security and the police chased after you and you swung back here to hide away and breathe. lyla had made sure to cut out all the surprise-related details. including the part where you almost fucked up the empanada recipe with a shit ton of sugar instead of salt.

“what’d i tell you?” you chime in, crossing your arms as the recap ends. “had to make sure there were no distractions for ou- i mean my. my godfather watch party.”

the skepticism seems to have mostly faded from miguel’s masked expression, replaced by agitation. leaning to the side slightly, you release a web towards the kitchen. you grin as you successfully capture and pull back an empanada. “made some snacks too. wanna try one, sweeth– ah shit, it’s still hot.”

lyla chuckles while you juggle the empanada between your hands. miguel, on the other hand, remains unamused.

“if you already covered everything, why didn’t you report that back to lyla?” miguel questions.

you stiffen, gripping the slightly cooler empanada in between your gloves. “well, about that…" you start to say, easing him into your ulterior motives.

“and how didn’t you pick up on the fact that the coast was already clear, hmm?” miguel interjects. his sharp gaze shifts to lyla hovering above his shoulder. he senses that something isn't adding up, and his instincts are honing in on the bluff.

lyla shrugs. “even gorgeous ai assistants make mistakes sometimes,” she responds nonchalantly. “besides, spidey here didn’t pick up, so i was going off what information i had at the time.”

miguel lets out a dry laugh. mentirosos. los dos. his mask disappears to reveal his piercing red eyes fixed on you. his tongue darts out to lick a particularly sharp canine, intensifying his glare. his expression demands answers.

"so, screwing up missions wasn't good enough for you, was it?" he accuses, his arms crossed. "you just had to move on to wasting my time with non-existent ones."

you can't help but snort at the accusation. "maybe i just really like your attention and oh so friendly company," you remark mockingly, taking a deliberate bite of your empanada.

miguel's eyebrow quirks in confusion and ever-growing irritation. with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you continue, "or maybe, just maybe, i had something else planned the whole time."

the atmosphere in the room crackles with frustration and impatience as miguel’s eyes narrow. he tries to unravel the truth behind your actions. "wanna tell me?" his tone orders you more than asks.

you meet his intense stare head-on, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "well, miguel, let's just say i wanted to test how you handle unexpected situations. we need to be prepared for anything, right?"

miguel's eyebrows furrow. "wh- testing me?” he shakes his head, baffled by your audacity. “por dios, is this some kind of game to you?"

you take another bite of the empanada, relishing in the flavorful distraction. "kinda,” you answer casually. “and you weren’t gonna take some time off today anyway so… i had to take matters into my own hands."

miguel looks seconds away from either throwing you against the wall or ripping the empanada from your hands. well, at least it gives a sense of how he might respond to what comes next.

“lyla, you can do the thing now,” you say before finishing your snack.

before miguel can ask what thing you’re talking about, a whirring sound comes from his wrist. a series of flashes and glitches flicker across the watch face. his eyes widen in confusion at the display. “what…” he murmurs, tapping at the screen lightly to try to see what’s going on. but his touch only worsens the glitching. he grits his teeth, pressing the seemingly-malfunctioning watch in aggravation.

“don’t worry,” you interject calmly. your reassurance earns you a frustrated glare. “the thing’s not broken… it’s just on–”

“lockdown.” lyla’s voice interrupts from miguel’s and your watches simultaneously. the ai is out of sight and at limited capacity for now, according to your carefully-planned programming. “the affected watches are under multiverse jump restriction for three hours. operation 'reel healing' is underway. happy movie watching, cuties….”

both watches’ screens fade to black, only to be replaced by the word "lockdown" in red and a countdown timer starting to tick away the three hours.

peter and jessica had warned you miguel might not respond well to this. a forced but well-intended work break, meant to give him some time off from stressing over the multiverse…. and to maybe get him to stop beating himself up over his tragic inter-dimensional mistake for one night.

are you interfering with spider society work? sure. will miguel hate your guts for a while? no doubt about it. but you just wanted to be a good friend. and good friends don’t let their friends sulk in their dark lair alone on father’s day.

you’re snapped out of your thoughts when miguel’s frustration finally erupts. without warning, miguel snatches you by the shoulders, claws tearing at your suit as he slams you against the wall. the impact against the wall jolts through your body, causing you to wince in pain.

"is this about the 'reel healing' nickname?" you try to joke through a winded gasp. "because peter and gwen were the ones who-"

miguel's grip on your shoulders tightens. all words clear from your mind, your survival mode subconsciously triggered. his voice is strained as he leans in close, shutting down your attempt to diffuse the situation.

"do you have any idea how this little stunt could backfire?" a clear concern lies in his words, but his rage at your actions seems a lot more obvious. his direct eye contact could burn holes into your head.

some regret gnaws at you, but your stubbornness wins out. “i'm pretty sure it won’t,” you retort. adrenaline courses through your veins.

miguel growls. his canines seem even sharper now that they’re right within bite-your-face-off distance. “we have a job to do–”

“and we’ll get back to it later,” you cut him off, trying not to groan at how miguel’s claws threaten to draw blood. “in case you haven’t noticed, we’re stuck here . we either gotta wait for something to happen or chill the fuck out. and even if hq has something come up, i got some people covering for us.”

the grip on your shoulders loosens ever so slightly. miguel’s glare demands answers.

“there’s a bypass,” you continue, “if things actually do go south. immediate contacts that will override the lockdown. but i got a roster of people on patrol and their backups.” gently placing your hands around miguel’s wrist, you finish. “and jess and peter are in charge while we’re gone. so maybe… lighten up a bit?”

for a brief moment, a quiet only broken by the movie in the background hangs heavy in the room. miguel releases his grip, shaking off your hold on his wrists and stepping back from the wall. his anger shifts to a mix of emotions.

inside his mind, miguel screams at you. lighten up, my ass. you dragged me out here for some… movie? intervention? god, what the fuck is this?

a glimmer of belief and hurt flickers in his still sharp gaze. he can barely look at you, staring anywhere but your face. regret starts to seep back into your thoughts. taking control from the control freak like this was beyond a bad idea. it was a violation of trust. regardless of how much progress you’d made with picking past miguel’s tough guy exterior, his open wounds were off limits.

miguel opens his mouth, and you brace yourself for the incoming insults and backlash. but for whatever reason, nothing comes out. miguel just shakes his head, muttering under his breath and pinching the bridge of his nose.

your hands fall limply to your side. slight fatigue aches in your muscles. today’s mission and orchestrating everything to make this little get together possible is taking its physical and mental toll.

looking towards the screen, you observe a wedding day scene playing out—a rare, relatively blood-free moment in the godfather. although you haven't watched the movie – at least, not recently – your intuition tells you that this is one of the few upbeat scenes. it seems like the perfect opportunity to sit down and immerse yourself in the movie.

from the corner of your eye, you notice that miguel's attention is also drawn to the tv, his expression still clouded with an emotional storm.

"you… wanna sit down?" you suggest cautiously. "enjoy some empanadas and ruthless mafia violence? maybe talk about our days…?"

miguel looks back at you, his frown deepening at the sight of your small, nervous smile. the unspoken turmoil within him seems to wrestle with the idea.

but he chooses to pull away. put up barriers. he lets out a heavy sigh before turning away from you, retracing his steps down the hallway he came from. the distance between you widens in more than just the physical sense.

fatigue weighs even heavier on your shoulders, both physically and emotionally. it squashes your desire to go after him, to admit you stepped way out of line. yet, deep down, you wish he would stay. just to make the apartment feel less stifling than it’s growing to be.

"mig… wait," you call out weakly, the ache in your chest and body mirroring the ache in your voice.

the sound of your voice hangs in the air. miguel ignores it, opening the bathroom door and quickly slipping inside. the door swings shut with a loud click. miguel seals himself away from you and any chance of immediate resolution.

a suffocating sense of disappointment settles over you. how could you have been so stupid?

with a heavy sigh, you make your way towards the couch. the sounds of the movie and the scent of empanadas fill the air, but they fail to mask the pain and loneliness that lingers.

miguel’s left you with the weight of your actions.

and according to your watch, you have two hours, fifty-six minutes, and thirteen seconds to review just how foolish and self-centered you were to think making miguel o'hara watch a movie with you would make his father’s day any less shitty.

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara & reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

My Top 12 TGaMM S2 songs (in no particular order)

Kinda like in Centaurworld, I found more songs in S1 than S2 that I liked but that's not to say that the songs weren't enjoyable. It's just a shame I won't be able to make a S3 list T_T

Anyways, here's my Top 12 TGaMM S2 songs in no particular order:

12. Frightful No More [A Doll to Die For]

It's great to hear Lord Hater again and a song that's an homage to "Everything's Coming Up Roses" (Gypsy) and "The Rain in Spain" (My Fair Lady)...at least that's what it make me think of.

11. It's Just Your Masterpiece in You [Faint of Art]

This episode was a pretty nice message on art block and a fear of failure that a lot of artists face, especially when they haven't done anything in years. I tend to procrastinate by snacking, which of course I can't draw with food fingers (even when using a napkin) so I gotta wait till it goes away, oh whoops, now the days ended, oh well, tomorrow...

10.Thai Culture Cram [100% Molly McGee]

A fun song showing the lengths that Molly is willing to go to learn half of her culture. Granted she didn't realize that this stuff takes time but she's on the right path.

9.Me & My Dad [Like Father, Like Libby]

Kid's who have an absentee parent def felt what Libby is singing about in this one. It just sucks when someone who should be important in your life, doesn't take it as serious as you'd wish they would.

8. Hit Restart [Perfect Day]

Gotta love how relaxed the singer is while describing the continuiously hectic attempts Molly and Scratch make at having a perfect first day of the year.

7. Identity Crisis [Davenport's in Demise]

It's a shame we didn't get more from Andrea this season, especially after this ep. I know we would've gotten her and Alina in S3 but still, I would've liked to see how her and Molly are friends

6. Maybe Next Time [The End] (Spoilers)

Scratch's backstory was a gut-punch, especially for those of us that feel like we're wasting our lives away. It does kinda remind me of a more sad version of "I Remember It Well" (Gigi)

5. Enjoy Your Afterlife [The New (Para)Normal]

A fun song with the Ghost Council about life after the Chairman's defeat that kinda reminds me of "Go Back to City Hall" in S1

4. You Got to Be Low-Key [The (After)Life of the Party]

Jinx is such a little shit in this song. Not to mention this was the ep that confirmed that Geoff and Jeff are married

3. Back to Misery [Jinx vs the Human World]

Gotta love a villain song. Just a shame we didn't get more.

2. Trying to Find [All in the Mind]

Love the abstract visuals of going through someone's mind and the soft vocals and instrumentals.

Honorable Mention 1: You've Been Jinxed [Jinx!]

Honorable Mention 2: Feeling Like MY Old Self Again/Small Town America [Kenny's Falling Star]

Honorable Mention 3: Happy Happy Death Day [The Many Lives of Scratch]

1.This House is Haunted [Frightmares on Main Street]

Love this homage to "Thriller" but it's also to see ghosts being able to let loose. A great Halloween special

As stated before, it's a shame that we won't get anymore eps but at least what we've gotten were great. Idk if I should do an overall list

#the ghost and molly mcgee #music #video #top 12 #Youtube

[zanexsaxena]

self para - after the auction

It was a stupid and reckless idea. Zane could easily bid for any item he wanted at the auction. Even the letter that had a base price of one hundred thousand dollars. He could take the easy way out while also aiding one of the political parties.

But where was the fun in that?

He'd gone back and forth on the jewelry items for several minutes until he settles onto the garland styled diamond necklace. It was priceless enough of an item that it would give him the excitement and adrenaline he wanted while also giving him the sense of pure accomplishment once he succeeded. It also looked like one that his step mother would wear to fancy dinners with his father.

Zane pushed the thoughts of his own family out of his head. Not the time, nor the place.

This wasn't the first time Zane had swiped something. He had plenty of experience in such things. This was, however, the first time it would be after an auction. His lack of experience didn't deter him. In fact, it made him want to succeed even more.

Patience was key. That, and timing. He couldn't grab the necklace from it's container at the auction. No. He had to wait until it was taken out of it's case and given to the next person -- the one that would eventually deliver it to it's new owner.

He watched from the center of the room, in a crowd of people, as the presenter auctioned the necklace. Luckily for him, only one person placed a bid on it. He didn't have to wait too long to figure out who would be receiving the necklace. Anaïs Murad. Her name meant nothing to him. But clearly, she was successful enough to be able to afford a thirty thousand dollar necklace.

As the Auction came to a close and people began to disperse from the area, Zane knew he had a choice. Back out now -- which was the safest option -- or go all in. He already decided that if he did go all in, he wouldn't be telling anyone about his plans. Not his friends. Not anyone in the gang. He knew full well that it was something that he shouldn't be doing, but that's what made it want to do it.

He could easily spin it into something in his favor -- fucking with one of the political parties, or even, playing into the story that he didn't grow up wealthy. That he had to work hard for what he had. When in reality, he didn't.

It wasn't hard to pin point who was with the woman that purchased the necklace. They had talked to her once the auction had ended and then made their way towards where the transactions were being made. As they finalized things, Zane prepared himself. He pulled his black, leather gloves from his pocket and pulled them on. He then ran his fingers through his newly bleached hair and pulled it back into a bun.

Under normal circumstances, Zane would have seduced the person with the item that he wanted. He would have used his voice -- and his face -- to get what he wanted. But this was different. This was an auction and it was clear that people were more cautious about certain purchases. And, he would prefer to not be seen. He didn't want to be hunted down afterwards. He'd much rather be able to disappear into the wind, no one ever knowing who truly had done the crime.

He pretended to observe the other items in the room while the necklace was placed in a brief case. Once it was secured and in the hands of one of the woman's assistants -- at least, that's what he assumed they were -- he began to follow them. Through the building, a couple of rooms, and out the front doors.

Thankfully, it was dark outside, and Zane could stick to the shadows. He shrugged on his jacket, zipped it all the way until the top covered his mouth and then tugged the hood over his head to cover his hair. His intention was to stay behind the other and not allow them to get the chance to see his face at all, but he was always prepared for something bad to happen.

As they approached a side street -- one that wasn't as lit as the others and was empty -- Zane slipped a pocket knife from his pants and advanced. He closed the distance between the two, coming up behind the other. His free hand wrapped around the other's wrist of the hand that was clutching the brief case while the one with the knife pressed against the small of their back -- cutting into the fabric of their jacket.

"Be good and drop the case for me." His voice was low and hushed. "Or I'll ensure that you will never walk again." Zane pushed the knife further into the other's lower back to prove that he was not bluffing. The knife was sharp, easily slicing through the clothes until he felt the blade rest against their flesh. It would be so easy to push it in further. To coax their blood out of the wound he created and take pleasure in the way it dripped over his own hand. But Zane wasn't there to have that kind of fun. He was there to steal a necklace.

His grip on their wrist tightened as he felt their body begin to shake. "Come on. One finger at a time..." He whispered as his gloved hand pulled at their wrist, lowering the case until it rested on the ground. "That's it..." He cooed as they did as he asked, releasing the case slowly until they were no longer holding it. "Good job."

He let the tip of the knife slide into their flesh about an inch as he snatched the brief case up himself. "Tell your boss to pay more attention to her assets next time. And to give you a raise." Zane smirked before he retracted his knife and slipped back into the shadows.

All that was left of him was the brief case that had been tossed to the side a block away from the crime, with no evidence of the necklace.

#{ zane } « self para #{ zane } « an angel made of devilish grins and laughter #tw knife #tw crime #tw injury

[worldburnrp]

MARCH 2ND, 2024

A POLITICAL RENDEZVOUS at THE CLOISTERS

"You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics." — Charles Bukowski

No one knows how both parties haven't clawed at each other's necks yet, co-existing under the same ornate roof. Nor is anyone surprised that a protest had formed outside of the venue, blocking one of the access streets.

While officers and those with political capital have been warned of it, the venue is grand enough, shielded enough, that the chants aren't heard by guests and attendees. The rich and powerful still get to enjoy their day, inside a bubble, as they always do.

And they all gather together at the main hall — as auction results are just about to roll in.

OOC INFO

PART THREE. There is no need to wrap or drop Part One or Part Two threads.

AUCTION

THE AUCTION IS NEAR ITS ENDING. Please follow @wbauction to participate. The auction will end on March 24th (Sunday) at 10pm EST. The last bid placed before 10pm, so long as it fits the rules listed on the item post, will be the winning one.

CHALLENGES

All challenges from Part 1 and Part 2 still stand. As always, please post completed challenges to our #point-depository channel so the admins can tally your points.

STORE

THE MEDIA SCOOP. [ PURCHASE FOR 1000 POINTS ] (2 AVAILABLE — 0 CLAIMED)

Can be purchased by any member of the media. This person gets to overhear some hot tea during the event and publicize it. Whoever purchases this slot must publish an article (or other media-oriented piece, depending on their character. For example: a TV host may write a self para of a live report, etc) on dash. How much information is publicized should be plotted and consented between the muns involved and any characters or establishments it may impact.

THE MAGIC KEY. [ PURCHASE FOR 2500 POINTS ] (2 AVAILABLE — 0 CLAIMED)

Can be purchased by any character. With this purchase, your character can jump into any event thread on dash of their choosing, no matter how private. The interaction will then automatically become a three-way thread. The only way to ‘reverse’ a Magic Key is by purchasing ‘Not So Fast!’, which is always available in our Burnie Bucks store.

THE BLAME KEY. [ PURCHASE FOR 2500 POINTS] (1 AVAILABLE - 0 CLAIMED)

Can be purchased by any character. With this purchase, your character gets to do something at the event (this can be anything — as silly or as dark as you'd like) and escape consequences, since the blame will be placed on a different character of your choosing. The only way to 'reverse' a Blame Key is by purchasing 'Not So Fast!', which is always available in our Burnie Bucks store.

THE HIJACK [ PURCHASE FOR 3500 POINTS ] (1 AVAILABLE — 0 CLAIMED)

Hijack an auction item. Damage it, steal it — the sky is almost the limit.

BY THE END OF PART 3...

— The two protesters who acquired the most amount of points during the event will be arrested by the two law enforcement characters who acquired the most amount of points during the event.

— The two government characters who acquired the least amount of points during the event will be trapped by the protest, with difficulty to leave the venue.

— The government party that ends the auction with the largest amount of donations will premiers the polls with a 5% advantage.

— The character who acquired the most amount of points during the event, out of all characters, will get to choose one reward from the options offered by the admins.

*Exclusively for this, points will be considered per character, not per mun.

PSA

If you're feeling unsure about how many points you've earned so far, and whether it will get you what you're hoping for, don't worry! Points will be considered until March 29th, at 10pm EST. That means, you still have a week to collect points and compete for the spot you want. You can get points the 'traditional' way by posting replies to threads, and we also have challenges we offered on Part 1, 2, and 3 that are worth more points each time you complete them. You can use any of the challenges posted for the event, even if they were prompted in earlier Parts.

HAVE FUN!

#crime rp #appless rp #city rp #mature rp #nyc rp #wb.event

[mindkiler]

― ❛ WANTED CONNECTIONS. ❜ - lights, camera, bitch smile.

CLOSED.

( f / m / nb ) : ؂ press #001 to sing : ❛ fortnight ❜❝ all of this to say : i hope you’re okay but you’re the reason and no one here’s to blame, but what about your quiet treason ? ❞

quando bee chegou ao acampamento era apenas uma pré-adolescente com uma bagagem de traumas não resolvidos & muita raiva, lynx ajudou ela a canalizar toda essa fúria nos treinos, fazendo da garota uma exímia lutadora que sabia segurar seu chão com pessoas ainda mais fortes. bee idolatrava lynx, mas quando ouviu que falavam por suas costas que era apenas mais uma menina patética que os seguia, a adoração tornou-se em ainda mais ira. porém, teria mesmo lynx a traído silenciosamente desta forma ? ( @lynksu )

( f / m / nb ) : ؂ press #002 to sing : ❛ the tortured poets department ❜❝ you’re in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down on the road but i’ve seen this episode and still love the show. ❞

bee e pietra são melhores amigas, sempre foi & sempre vai ser assim. opostos, raio de sol para sua poeta torturada, pietra segura a mão de bee nos piores momentos, cuida dela quando os calafrios vem e o mundo está alto demais. bee tenta ao seu máximo retribuir mesmo quando está em modo de auto sabotagem, mas não tem nada que faça pietra partir. ( @pips-plants )

( m ) : ؂ press #003 to sing : ❛ my boy only breaks his favorite toys ❜❝ here we go again. the voices in his head called the rain to end our days of wild. the sickest army doll, purchased at the mall. rivulets descend my plastic smile. ❞

bee e brook eram amigos, e visitavam um ao outro ocasionalmente quando estavam longe do acampamento - no entanto, em uma destas visitas, brook viu um lado de bee que jamais conheceu. (tw: menção ao uso de drogas e consumo de álcool ) não a artista ou a guerreira, nem mesmo a reclusa que podia ser ; e sim, a pessoa doente que escolhia o esquecimento invés das vozes na sua cabeça. pílulas e bebida na mesa, um sorriso plástico no rosto da amiga adorada fez com que lhe virasse as costas - não conhecia aquela pessoa, mesmo que ela precisasse de si. bee nunca superou a vergonha, mas teria brook se arrependido de quebrar seu brinquedo favorito ? ( @mcdameb )

( f / nb ) : ؂ press #004 to sing : ❛ florida !!! ❜❝ i need to forget, so take me to florida - i’ve got some regrets, i’ll bury them in florida. tell me i’m despicable, say it’s unforgivable. at least the dolls are beautiful, fuck me up, florida. ❞

donna era a pessoa de bee, estivessem se metendo em confusão ou se beijando - oque foi sua própria confusão tempos depois, estavam juntas. porém, donna nunca saiu do acampamento, e quando o tempo veio, que bee estava pronta para voltar a sua família, longe daquele lugar, donna não pode segui-la, o que quebrou seu coração e a fez terminar tudo, mesmo a outra insistindo que se veriam todo verão. deixou sua pessoa adorada para trás, e enterrou suas memórias e arrependimentos na florida - que completamente a fodeu. (@donnasjo )

( f / m / nb ) : ؂ press #006 to sing : ❛ who’s afraid of little old me ? ❜❝ i leap from the gallows and i levitate down your street. crash the party like a record scratch as i scream. “who’s afraid of little old me ?”. i was tame, i was gentle ‘til the circus life made me mean. “don’t you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth”. ❞

muse e amara chegaram ao acampamento próximos um do outro e sempre competiram por tudo, a rivalidade aumentando quando colocavam os primos e irmãos nas rodas de chacota. bee se tornou irada e impulsiva como era - irresponsável. os dois na arena, amara mais forte e bem treinada, quase lhe arrancou todos os dentes, mas enquanto celebrava vitória, bee levantou-se do chão cuspindo sangue, e lhe acertou uma flecha as costas ; covarde e sabia mas ainda sim, riu maníaca e gritou : ’ você não duraria uma hora no manicômio que me criaram ’. desnecessário dizer que não saiu barato. ( @amaranthaes )

( f / m / nb ) : ؂ press #007 to sing : ❛ how did it end ? ❜❝ we hereby conduct this post-mortem - he was a hot house flower to my outdoorsmen. our maladies were such we could not cure them and so a touch that was my birthright became foreign. ❞

bee e styx eram apaixonados pela mesma garota, apenas adolescentes tolos que prometeram não fazer nenhum passe em npc para preservar sua amizade, afinal, eram inseparáveis - contudo , bee e npc saíram em uma missão com tiny da qual a amada não retornou. o luto que dividiam acabaram por carregar sozinhos quando styx ficou do lado de tiny , negando bee de sua raiva. desde então, eram apenas um final triste, os toques sagrados para si tornaram-se estrangeiros para os dois, miseráveis e metade apaixonados.( @styxch & @tinykl )

more +

friends who are practically siblings. ( @mcronnie )

#› drowning your struggles in whiskey bubbles ‹ about.

[reversecreek]

welcome to marina, LANA JAMESON ( woman, she/her ) ! they are a TWENTY SIX year old who has lived on the island for THREE YEARS. word on the street is they’re currently living in TOWER HILL and works as a INSTAGRAM / EDITORIAL MODEL. everyone also says they look a lot like SADIE SOVERALL. what do you think?

PINTEREST

“below the stage the seats are empty. the theatre is dark. why do you keep acting?” — Charles Bukowski, Come On In!: New Poems

HISTORY:

lana grew up in a big house in albany, NY. i picture it w dark oak floors n lots of light furniture. albums framed on walls. mayb some rolling stone covers too frm way bk when of the bands her dad’s label signed. kind of like… a rock star palace w no evidence of children at all. i think i described it best in one of lana’s self paras once when i said the garden ws “as lavish as it was unloved”

lana’s mum victoria (vic) ws a music journalist w a pretty fruitful career ahead of her when she met lana’s dad richard (rich). his record label ws jst starting out, founded on the coattails of his rich best friend’s (jensen peters) investment w his other best friend (who he jst calls knoxville). it rocketed to success when they signed poppy injects, a rock band w an electric stage presence, n victoria ws drawn to the glitz n glamour of a man tht ws at the helm of his aspiring industry. their love ws very impulsive, all or nothing right frm the start, n it ws almost like she ws mre in love w his accomplishments n what he represented than him

anyway so jameson records repped a few big rock bands bk in the eighties, altho poppy injects r who they’re mostly known fr, namely bc of hw brightly they crashed n burned. they were a big chart success bt the lead singer hd quite an intense struggle w heroin (wsnt rly subtle abt it either while he ws in the public eye as u cn probably imagine frm such an on-the-nose band name) n he ws always in n out of the papers. it eventually brought down his career n it ws a big publicity nightmare

lana pretty much… grew up around figures like this throughout childhood. rly troubled characters who wld kind of… b extremely volatile n destructive abt their troubles. the jameson house was kind of an open one as welcoming clients went n a lot of parties took place there. a lot of the time musicians wld b snorting lines in the kitchen when she wnted to grab a bowl of cereal fr breakfast n it was just. a very strange environment fr a child to grow up in

her parents always kind of jst… didn’t like her much. her older brother caleb ws unplanned bt they sort of welcomed the surprise more bt… quickly realised they weren’t cut out fr parenthood n then when lana came as another surprise 3 yrs later they didn’t even try to hide their resentment abt the situation. her mum ws actually booked in to have an abortion bt cldnt go through with it at the last minute. once when lana asked her why shes so cold towards her she jst turned her head frm her dresser, looked at her, told her abt this n said “idk why i didn’t go”. lana didn’t kno wht to say to tht so she jst left her room n closed the door

(dissociation tw) bc of this growing up lana adopted this weird like…. she didn’t rly kno what it ws bt it ws a delusion of sorts where she thought she ws a ghost. she’d jst sort of… drift around the halls w noone acknowledging her n sometimes she ws jst convinced she wsnt actually there or they cldnt see her n she ws jst haunting the house frm a previous family

the one saving grace tho tht sort of?? gt her thru this n made her feel Seen ws caleb. lana quite genuinely hs always thought the sun shines out of her older brothers ass like she jst thinks. hes the best person in the entire world. wld b rly bewildered if anyone questioned tht. he wld always look out for her in the zoo they called a home n cut the crusts off her sandwiches (he’d cook fr them most of the time bc their parents were too busy/didn’t care to) n sometimes wld even sleep at the bottom of her bed curled up like a guard dog. it ws always lana n caleb n his best friend tommy against the world in tht house (tommy lived next door n was always over bc he had very strict parents including a military father tht he found suffocating)

SO when caleb n tommy announced tht they’d signed up to the army lana ws understandably…….. completely blindsided. she ws rly upset tht they were leaving bt she tried not to b mad at them n made them promise theyd b safe n back as soon as possible. she even asked if they cld somehow take her w them n they were jst like :/ it doesn’t work that way luv x

(death tw, ptsd tw, grief tw, trauma tw, hospitalisation tw, drugs tw) anyway caleb ended up getting discharged under grounds of severe ptsd when he witnessed tommy die in an explosion tht took place in a shock raid. caleb returned home sans tommy bt he was never the same after tht. he’s been in and out of hospital twice nw n he’s currently dipped off the radar after starting to use. lana kind of felt like two of her brothers died out there in a way n jst like tht it wasn’t them vs the world any mre, it was jst her. she doesn’t talk abt this tho. when she feels the urge to cry she usually jst smiles

ANYWAY whew tht rly…. took a dark turn there….. chuckles nervously at hw sad lana’s life is bt it’s fine it’s all fINE!!!!!!! ok. so on a mre lighthearted note the jameson family r pretty well off n bc of her relation to such a big music industry figure she’s hung out w a fair few relatively high rep ppl thru her teens. mostly kids of celebrities n stuff like tht. she amassed kind of an instagram following mainly fr her style (lots of fur cuff trimmed jackets bt then also jst…. a wild combination of everything honestly. pastel faux fur coats, seventies style platforms, flame red cowboy boots, pink fishnet tights n glitter used like highlight Everywhere) n bc she’s undeniably Very Pretty

(trauma tw) after caleb got back he was rly withdrawn n depressed. he shut lana out n was kind of harsh to her a lot of the time, always telling her to leave him alone or pushing her away. it didnt help either tht lana had a rly traumatic experience w some of her dad’s colleagues at the label when she ws 16 n he was away n she cldnt even tell him abt it once he was bk bc of his own traumas. she kind of jst shut it all in n kept it to herself

(hypersexuality tw) this obviously?? made her spiral a lot. she was already a girl tht loved sex (she’d only rly done foreplay before tho) but since her trauma it got…. completely out of hand. it got to a point where she couldnt rly go 2 days without it, probably not even 1. her lowest point has probably been scrolling thru craiglist for anonymous encounters n meeting up w strangers on there fr a quick fuck jst for the thrill even tho it’s insanely dangerous n she cld wind up getting herself killed. it’s v clear at this point tht she has a sex addiction whether she’s ever admitted it or not. it kind of… almost mingled w tht same feeling she used to get when she ws younger of being a ghost?? like she jst. only rly feels Real when she’s being touched

ummm DISASTROUS romantic history honestly... riddled w beastly men and intense situationships n toxic cheating dynamics just. a lot.

went to uni for ballet n joining a travelling dance company bt. was kicked out fr excessive inebriation tht got in the way of her rehearsal times etc. now she just kind of insta models n does a few editorial shoots for realisation par n lingerie brands n such

PERSONALITY:

always smells vaguely of wild cherries or strawberry starburst or jst the candy aisle in general. if she ws a vinyl record she’d b this one n she’d only play good vibrations by the beach boys, dancing on my own by robyn, play that funky music by wild cherry, femme fatale by the velvet underground n (i can’t get no) satisfaction by the rolling stones 

growing up lana was always a huge social butterfly. knew everyone n everyone knew her. she ws one of those girls tht ws kind of impossible to ignore or forget. very animated, always made u feel like u were the centre of the universe whenever she spoke to u, always made it feel like u were best friends even if ud only spoken to her once. 

deliberately puts on tht kind of Magnetic Alluring Act tht femme fatales wear in movies w most ppl. kind of…. is always playing A Role of the person tht she wants to b seen as. womanhood as nonconsensual performance. chameleons to situations. feels like she’s performed as the vivacious n fun loving Lana Jameson fr so long tht she doesn’t rly kno who she is beneath tht bt she isn’t too keen to find out

she’s always been rly spontaneous n adventurous. always doing something weird n wild every weekend. she has ten thousand ridiculously absurd n chaotic stories

uncontrollably flirty. boundlessly confident. cld make a joke out a paper bag n her comedy is sometimes surreal / absurd. she tends to laugh when she feels like crying n has a smile brighter than a ray of texas sunshine

always dapples her fingers thru the breeze when she’s driving in a car w the window down. she almost always has some sort of sweet on her, whether it’s sour haribo cherries or strawberry lollipops

she adores david bowie n prince n madonna n anyone tht’s a vintage style icon w little care fr what ppl think

she’s had like 8472493874 ‘relationships’ n 99% of them haven't lasted beyond a month / hav been terrible / hav seen her being treated badly / she’s cheated on them

ummmm ya lets plot sexies

#marina:intro #me recycling an old intro mercilessly

[oh-phineas]

Boulevard of Broken ACLs | Self Para

Date: 19 August 2023 Warnings: Mention of surgery/medical stuff (not graphic)

Phineas begins his recovery.

Cheating death is supposed to feel a lot cooler than this, Phineas reflects as Patrick The Physical Therapist guides his leg in the correct motion for the five hundredth time that day. It’s actually pretty mundane. One minute, you’re being hauled to your feet by a girl you kissed at a party one time, being dragged through burning streets while your life flashes before your eyes, and the next you’re spending three hours a week in a rehab gym staring at the ceiling while a grad student chatters on about cricket. He came to Swynlake for adventure, and he’s pretty sure being snatched from the jaws of Hades (the mythical one, not the ex-mayor) is supposed to count for that. But he almost died, and all he got was this shitty Swynlake General Hospital Physical Therapy T-shirt. 

He tells himself that he can make the best out of any boring situation, that this is his superpower. That he never needed to travel the world because everything he ever needed was always in his backyard. And maybe that’s the worst part of all of this: that Phineas is supposed to be the eternal optimist, and he didn’t even get it that bad compared to some people, and still he feels this deep, awful, burning feeling that he is trapped. 

“Whoa, dude, slow down,” Patrick chuckles as Phineas races through his points-and-flexes. “What’s the hurry?”

The hurry is that Phineas wants to be out of here thirty minutes ago, but instead he just smiles. “Not in a hurry,” he says through his teeth. 

“Alright, well, you gotta take it slow to get the full benefit. It isn’t a race!”

Nah, it isn’t, because if it were a race, at least it would be fun.

The fact that he has the meeting with his doctor later to determine the next step feels like a fake milestone. It’s the end of a week of prehab, but it could be the beginning of more weeks of it, if the doctor recommends surgery. And if he doesn’t, there are still dozens of weeks of Patrick’s company ahead. Nothing’s really going to change, Phineas reminds himself as he goes into the exam room. 

“Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news.”

Of course. There’s always good news and bad news.

“Why don’t you just tell me the good news?”

The doctor chuckles. Phineas was kind of serious, honestly. He didn’t want any more bad news. But he was a responsible adult or whatever, so sure, he’d do the prehab, he’d do the surgery, he’d shove the instructions that the doctor printed out for him into the bottom of his backpack and actually dig them out later and show them to his parents and let them stick it to the fridge with a magnet. 

The surgery is set for three weeks from today, putting it squarely between the freshers week party and the networking event. Phineas considers texting Ed and Pip about it, then changes his mind. He doesn’t want either of them to think this will impact anything, because it won’t, because Phineas is determined not to let it. He considers texting Fawn, but then the remembers the announcement about the forest, and feels silly bothering her about this.

His parents have already moved onto talking about the plan for dinner, so while they’re not watching, Phineas hobbles out to Jolene on his crutches and drags himself into the back seat so he can prop his leg up. The car blinks to life hopefully.

“Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride Nobody gonna slow me down. I’ve got to keep on moving.”

“Aw, c’mon, it’s not funny,” Phineas grumbles. The dials spin mischievously, and then slow down. And then slowly, the volume climbs, like Jolene isn’t quite sure this is the right call.

It’s an old Green Day song. Phineas remembers jumping around his room and singing it a lot when he was younger and angry about all the things he didn’t understand, all the things he couldn’t disappear with optimism. He’s surprised Jolene even comes up with it. At first, he’s singing along quietly, but by the bridge, he’s practically yelling— and it feels good. 

He collapses back into the seat, breathing hard. “Thanks, Jolene,” he says. 

The lights just blink in response, and next up is an angry Fall Out Boy song. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

#just wanted to establish some stuff lol #get my thoughts gathered #so here it is #self para

[paxtontinsleyarchive]

WHEN I’M NOT LOOKING YOU ARE SOMEONE ELSE / self para when / autumn 2006 (sophomore year) tw mention of abuse, high school shit featuring @knoxwells and hudson wells (npc)

The lights on the Iron Hill house made the already large mansion look like a castle. Paxton had thought about houses like this her whole life. Thought about the people who lived in them. It was a stark different from the small house she lived in with her mom that was just barely in Outpost, one street separated it from the Mines. But it was the Mines, really. Yet, Montgomery Wallis had invited her to this party. Mostly because he had a feeling she’d bring drugs, which, she did. 

Her and Hudson got into a fight on the way to this party. She didn’t tell him that it was Monty, a senior, who invited her. He found that out on the way over and was convinced it meant something. It didn’t. Monty was in her calculus class, he was a senior, she didn’t pay him any mind. If he paid her mind, that wasn’t her business. 

Paxton was walking through the halls that were crowded with people, pausing to swap pills for cash. She was making her way to the bathroom when she came face to face with Monty. He had perfect white teeth. He was rich. He was the captain of the football team. He was going to Mississippi, just like his parents. “Hey, you came!” He said with a laugh. 

“Seems like everyone came, Monty,” Paxton said with a nod. 

“Yeah, there are a lot of people here, it got out of hand.” He shrugged. Monty wasn’t one of the assholes, you know, the rich ones who thought they were entitled to everything. He worked hard. If she thought anything of him it was that he was bland. Generic. 

“Are you actually gonna stay and dance, we have a whole dance floor.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” At that time, someone tried to pass behind her and shoved her, to which drew a glare at them as she was thrown into Monty. “Sorry,” Paxton said and then muttered under her breath, “fucking asshole.” 

“No worries, I think I spilled on you,” Monty said.

Paxton looked down and noticed that he did, in fact, spill on her. She chose that moment to laugh, because of course.

“Paxton?” Hudson’s voice cut through the noise and she and Monty looked to him. He was red in the face. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Paxton looked at Monty and said, “Talking?”

That made his little head explode and he reached out to grab her forearm, his fingers like vices on her. Paxton ripped herself away. “Don’t fucking grab me, Hudson.”

“Why the fuck are you talking to him?”

“He’s my friend? We have calculus together? He invited me here?” Paxton said, her tone drawing the obvious and condescending with disbelief. 

“Are you fucking him?” Hudson said. The noise around them had stilled, waiting to see the fight. 

“What?” Paxton couldn’t believe that. She started to laugh, which was the wrong move, and she gestured to Monty, “Where? Here in the hall? Might be a little painful considering he still has his pants on.” Paxton glanced to Monty, “but maybe his dick is big enough to be able to keep his pants on when he’s fucking me.” Monty went red, his hands coming up and he stepped away from them.

Hudson however, was pissed, she could practically see the steam coming from his ears.

“You’re embarrassing,” he hissed at her.

“Oh, that’s ripe. You’re the one who started screaming. What’s the matter, can’t take what you dish?” Paxton snorted. “You’re a coward.”

“Fuck you.” 

“I already have, and I would give it a one star rating,” Paxton hissed back. 

“I’m done, find someone else to bring you home.”

“Not a problem,” Paxton said and turned around and walked off. She didn’t see him go, instead she got a drink and finished making some money. Another drink, another couple hundred bucks. She was done and making her away out of the party with money. She didn’t even bother looking to see if his truck was there. She’d rather walk home than deal with him.

Turning a corner, she almost walked into Knox. “Sorry,” they said at the same time. Paxton almost smiled, but she was still annoyed. 

“I saw Hudson peel out, I thought you’d…” Knox trailed off, reading the irritation on her face. “Here,” he said and handed her the drink he had in his hand. 

Paxton sighed and moved to lean against the wall. Her guard always slipped when it came to Knox. He was associated with quiet libraries, math problems, and vocabulary. He’d always been present in her physical safe space, and he’d made himself a pleasant companion in it. 

“He loves you, you know,” Knox said with a shrug.

“Everyone loves me, Knox.” Paxton said with a sip. She was tired. If this was love, she was tired of it. 

“I don’t,” he said with a shrug.

Paxton’s icy eyes flicked up to his face. She caught his golden ones, there was no trace of a lie there. 

“You don’t?��

“Nope,” he said. “Can’t love something you don’t know.” 

She nodded. Her guard came down again. He was smart enough to know he didn’t know her, even if he was probably the one who knew her best at the moment. Everyone else made up stories about who she was, parts she played because if they were going to be committed to misunderstanding her, why fight it?

“You want to get out of here? I’m kinda tired,” he said with a shrug.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I can take you home,” Knox said as they walked to his truck. 

Paxton shook her head. “I don’t want to go home yet. You want to just drive around for a bit?” Paxton unrolled a twenty and handed it to him. 

“What’s this for?”

“Diesel.” 

Knox barked a laugh. “Pax, no. Don’t worry about it, I was gonna probably do that anyway.”

It was starting to get cold, and Paxton left her jacket in Hudson’s car. Her flesh turned to chicken skin in the cool night air. Paxton’s rule of clothing was that less was more, and tonight was another example of it. Walking home probably would have been miserable, but she’d been more miserable before. As she climbed into Knox’s truck, he reached over and turned the heater on. He moved to hand her the cord to the tape player to radio cord. Paxton dug into her jacket and pulled out her iPod. She flicked through the songs before she found the one. “I wanted to show you this one at the library today, I think it’s good.”

“Who is it?”

“We The Kings.” She’d never led him astray with her music choices, so he accepted it. And they drove for a while, her showing him songs and him telling her to put on ones too. She’d moved to the middle of the bench seat in the old truck and was working on the balance of the stereo and she didn’t pretend to move away. At some point, his hand went to her knee and she didn’t chase it away or flinch from it. 

The clock flicked to midnight before long and he looked to her and she looked back. He cruised once around the block and then when they saw that there no trace of Hudson’s truck or her mom, they parked into the driveway. It wasn’t uncommon that Knox would drop her off, or that he popped over. They were paired on a lot of science projects together as they had the same biology class. It was something of a second home, her mom was either sick on the couch or gone. 

Tonight was the latter. As they walked through the front door, Paxton turned to lock the door and chain it. After she walked back to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and he nodded a thanks. He moved to turn the TV on. Paxton sat in the middle, and without much prompting, put her legs into his lap. Knox was flicking through channel when Paxton blurted, “Wait, this.” It was a cooking show. She loved cooking shows. Knox glanced to her. “I love cooking shows. It’s cool how they can do things with like nothing.”

His hands went to her feet, resting on them until his thumb pressed into the ball of her foot. Paxton blinked a few times, it felt good. He was relaxed on the couch, and she felt herself scoot toward him and his touch. They chatted about the show and as she got closer, his hands went up her legs. She was telling him about how she learned how to cut an onion and he looked up at her. “You’d probably be a good cook, you know.”

Paxton snorted. There was no food at the house to learn to cook with. “No, I’m going to into programming.” She liked computers and coding. 

“You’d be good at that too.” 

Paxton was practically sitting in his lap and she rolled her eyes. 

“Pax, you know I mean it. I think you could be good — great — at anything you do. You’re really clever. You work hard too.”

Something about that hit her, and between the way he had a hand on her thigh, how he wasn’t pressuring her, and probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her, his head tilted just a little before she moved to kiss him. 

There was no delay in his reaction. Her legs came around and she settled to straddling his lap, his hands running down her sides. Her hands went to his face. Knox’s thumbs hooked under her shirt. She moved to pull his shirt off, he shuffled to let it come off, hands smoothing under her shirt, and it came off seconds later. 

They broke, breathing hard. His hands moved over her rib cage as he looked at her. “Paxton.”

She moved to kiss his neck. “Mm?”

“Hey,” he nuzzled her so that he could look at her. She looked at him back. “Are you sure? Do you actually want to?”

She paused. She’d never been asked that. Not once in all her years of sexual activity. No one ever made sure. A small smile crossed her face. “Yeah. I want you.”

“Okay,” he said and his hands moved to her thighs, managing to stand up and carry her to his bedroom. 

—

It had been two weeks. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t think about that night. For a brief moment she thought about something with him, but the fact she caught feelings put her off a bit. It was weird for Paxton. Then the phone calls started. Hudson was relentless. 

And Paxton did her best to avoid him. Until three weeks later and he couldn’t be avoided anymore. Paxton was standing in the parking lot, talking to Wesson Winslow, a guy she was in robotics club with. He also played baseball. Wesson was very All American, which wasn’t Paxton. But they had more in common when it came to interests than personality and Paxton liked him enough. He’d studied with her and Knox a lot. 

Hudson moved to lean against his truck that he parked next to her. “Paxton.”

Her eyes flicker to him. “Hi Hudson.” She went back to shuffling her books in her bag. Wesson looked to her and then Hudson. 

“I’ll see you in tomorrow for the Tech meeting?” Wesson asked.

Paxton nodded, “Yep, I’ll meet you there.” Wesson moved to walk off and her eyes went back to Hudson. 

“So you with him now?”

This was exhausting. “No, I’m not with anyone.” She had a lot rolling around in her mind, and Wesson was only part of it. 

“He looks like he wants to be with you.”

“Everyone wants to be with me,” Paxton said with an eye roll.

“Did you sleep with him already?” 

Wow, how fast the jealousy came. It was gross. 

“I mean, if you did, then you probably already know I’m the best. No one can hit your buttons like I can.” Hudson shrugged. 

Paxton’s head turned to finally look at him, her eyes cold. “Your brother is better, actually.” It came out without her meaning it too. The filter didn’t click in. 

Hudson’s eyes jerked to her. He didn’t believe her. She smiled. “He’s bigger than you, you know. Kisses better. Goes down better. Lasts longer and rebounds faster.” Was it cruel? Perhaps. But she’d had enough. “His name tasted better when I screamed it.” Partial lie, she didn’t scream. She wasn’t a screamer. 

Hudson’s face went red. With both embarrassment and fury. “You’re a fucking —“

Paxton cut him off, “Slut? Bitch? You’ll have to pick a more clever name to call me.” She leaned into his face. “But rest assured, you best pick a good one, because I soon as I hear it, I’m making sure I fuck your dad too. I’ll chop down your whole family tree, and I’ll make sure your home for each of them so you can listen in.” 

Hudson stepped back. “Fuck you.”

“Never again. Goodbye.” Paxton walked around him and headed to her house. 

—

The next day, when Paxton sat down next to Knox at the library study table, she did a double take. He had a black eye and busted lip. “Knox, Jesus.” Her hands turned over his to see his knuckles had cuts on them too. 

“It’s fine. Just, maybe next time warn me before?”

“I wasn’t thinking.” She felt guilty. She looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Knox said. He shrugged. Paxton smiled and looked down. “What did you actually say?”

“I said you have a big dick, a magic tongue, and stamina and quick rebound.” Paxton paused. “I said your name tasted better when I screamed it.”

“Yeah, that will do it.”

Wesson walked up at that time and placed his books down. He also did a double take at Knox’s face. “Damn, dude.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it badly,” Wesson shook his head. He looked back to Paxton and she smiled at him. “You alright, Pax? I heard things got ugly after I left.”

Paxton glanced to Knox. “It’s fine. Handled.”

“Alright. Hey, so, I wanted to show you the notes from the coding class and the project.” Paxton liked that if he heard she slept with Knox he wasn’t making a big deal of it. That and he was focused on the project at hand. But that was Wesson. He tended to get very zoned into the projects. It made it easy for her. 

#( self para. )

[madd-rot]

How do your paras celebrate the New Year? How do they feel about New Year’s resolutions? Do they have any? And, if you’ve daydreamed then celebrating before, is there a memorable moment from a previous New Year’s celebration?

Thank you so much for this question, I love talking about my paras and paracosms!!

It varies from paracosm to paracosm honestly. There are the main two paracosms that I daydream about closer to the New Year, there are a few others but a lot of them are minor moments and they’re more self-indulgent anyway.

Last Year I focused on Aturah

Aturah had a huge New Years Celebration. One of the most memorable moments was Phoenix getting so drunk he made out with a lampshade for the new years kiss thinking it was a person that had been ‘eyeing him up all night’. He even got a blessing from the goddess Aphion the next day because she had almost wet herself from laughing at him.

New Year’s resolution wise, I know last year Zephyr tried making a resolution to be more active and then Nova caught him napping on the couch on the second day. Kajus sticks to his resolutions like the law, I think one of his last year was getting consistent As during physical exams and he was amazing at that. Casper doesn’t even try while Mikko and Phoenix make it a whole competition.

Overall, Aturah treats the New Year as a special thing and they honour Aphion the ‘Goddess of Beginnings’. I know there’s normally a huge celebration on the streets in Avraenia like last years however due to the recent attack on it, Wispia offered to hold it instead this year. Aphion never wants a formal ceremony of honour instead she just wants to witness as many chaotic drunk people as possible.

This year I focused on Mad Drive.

In Mad Drive they decided to have a small party this year with the twins doing karaoke of ‘All I want for Christmas’ with Rene’s AI door and they all dressed it up with any Christmas decorations that they could find. (AI Door was just happy to be involved). There’s constant chaos in Mad Drive’s world so the New Year is a much more private event that’s celebrated amongst family rather than big parties of friends and strangers.

New Year’s resolutions are surprisingly wholesome things in Mad Drive, each member went around and talked about food they wanted to try, places they wanted to go, ranks they wanted to move up in etc and they stuck a massive notepad with the resolutions up as a progress tracker. One of my favourite resolutions this year is Rene’s who said he would sneak a pet cat into Mad Drive’s HQ.

And then of course normally Mad Drive don’t get to experience massive displays of fireworks for the New Year because they’re on standby 24/7 so they made up for it with an annual ‘Mad Drive Awards’ also known as the ‘Driveys’ (blame the twins) where some of their funniest moments were shown because of Nazaire’s love of taking videos and photos of their fights. This year the ‘Funniest Fail Drivey’ went to Kamil who tripped over a wire and fell off the roof into a pile of boxes while preparing a massive attack all while you could hear sympathetic ‘Ooooohs’ in the back.

While Mad Drive have a little less of an optimistic view about New Years and fresh starts, they do appreciate that it’s a way to reflect on everything and plan your next steps, growing as a person. I think that’s sweet tbf and at the end they watched a movie together and fell asleep on the couches and floors.

New Years is always a fun thing to explore in my paracosms because it always shows that most of my groups of paras have a ‘found family’ aspect to them from spending so much time around each other. The Elites and Mad Drive hold a lot of similarities with each other which scares me if I ever decided to cross their paracosms over…

#madd #paracosm #maladaptive daydreaming disorder #maladaptive daydreamer #immersive daydreaming #actually madd #madd paras #maladaptive daydreaming #paraportal #my paras #pc: aturah #pc: mad drive

[jww-archive]

THIS BOTTLE TASTES LIKE 512. / self para when: super bowl 2017 featuring @vannrichmond 

She didn’t stay the whole game, instead she was whisked off the stage directly after the halftime show. She moved to give a few people hugs, and was hustling out of the stadium, stopping along the way to take photos with fans. She had been living in the blissful unaware that came along with being busy. It was the first night in months that June was able to take a break, and she was deposited back at her hotel room with room service and a bottle of whiskey at the hour of 9pm. 

June poured herself some whiskey, and was humming along as she washed her face and proceeded to rinse herself off. She had a little downtime, she might as well scroll the social media. It was then that she saw the photo of who else was at the Super Bowl, in a covet seat that belonged to the personal friends of Nathan Tate. She was looking at the photo when her phone rang. Maybe it was the picture, maybe it was whiskey, but she picked up.

“Hey,” June said.

“Hey,” Vann said back. “I wanted to tell you, was proud of you.” He sounded a little drunk. She did too. He also sounded a little surprised, and she bit her lip.

“Yeah? You like the outfit?”

There was a chuckle on the other line. “Ain’t never had a problem with the outfits, just everyone else lookin’.”

“Saw you, I liked your outfit too,” June said back. She could hear him pause like he was inspecting what he was wearing.

“Nothing special.”

“Vann.”

“Mmm, don’t tell me to hang up,” Vann said, she could tell he was rolling his eyes.

“No, I wasn’t gonna say that,” June laughed lightly. “I was gonna say I miss you.”

“Miss you too. Where are you?”

“Still here in town, some hotel,” June said with a shrug. “Where are you?”

“Umm...” There was a distinct pause like he was trying to figure out where he was. “That might take a little to figure out.”

“Sounds like a bar,” June said with a laugh.

“It is, it definitely is.” 

June put her hands into her face and laughed, because he never lied. And his voice made her warm, she liked the way he spoke, like he was simultaneously caught red handed and the smoothest man alive.

“You hiding your face at that, aren’t you?” he asked her, the grin audible in his voice.

“Yes, shut up,” June said with an eye roll. There was a pause.

“You did -- look good, sound good tonight. Proud of you, you always said...”

“Mmm, the sound sucks on those stadiums, you must’ve been in deep.”

“Had a few, and was lookin’ at you, so felt like I had a few more. Thought about trying to see you...”

“My security would have tased you for sure,” June laughed and shook her head. “I’m kidding.”

“No, no that feels right.”

She missed him, she missed him a lot. This call was making her regret everything they were going through. The whiskey was making her think that it could be as simple as this. “I love you, Vann.”

“I love you, too. Probably wouldn’t call so much if I didn’t.” The noise behind him had long since dropped off.

“Are you outside right now?”

“Yeah, standing here on the street like some moron.”

“If I asked you to come over, would you?” June asked it quietly. It was good he was outside. 

“In a heartbeat. Where are you?”

June sighed. “You can’t.”

There was a paused on the other line. “I could. Just a cab and then up to your hotel room, nothing about it,” Vann said. It was matter of fact.

“...no, baby you can’t...”

“Keep saying can’t, but I don’t hear the reason --”

June didn’t let him finish, “Not like this. I love you too much for it to be like this. Cheapens it.” She wiped her face. She didn’t realize she started crying.

“Call me in the morning, then.” Noise exploded behind him and June smiled. 

“You got a party over there.”

“Not without you,” Vann said.

“I’m just alone in the hotel room.”

“Don’t need to be, like I said. Cab and elevator ride away.”

“I know...” In the background, Vann was getting harassed by his friends, they were asking who he was talking to, like they didn’t know. One said her name and the cacophony of hell nos and goddamn its rang out and she said, “Better go. Love you.”

“Love you to--” and the phone was jerked away and he was cut off, and June hung up. She put the bottle of whiskey away and changed from her robe to her sleeping pajamas. She wasn’t sure what was burning her the most right now, the whiskey or the man.

#( self para. )

[behaein]

˙ ˖ ✧ — SELF PARA. aka, how haein spends this seollal alone in korea.

despite raising their children in america, the oh's always made sure that the family had the full korean experience. that included celebrating holidays, such as chuseok and seollal. thus, to say that haein was experienced in this specific holiday wouldn't be an understatement.

however, she didn't realize how big of a holiday this truly was until she actually got to korea. stores were all closed down, minus the big department stores and whatnot, and it seemed like the streets were completely dead. her aunt, of course, was working during the holiday like the workaholic she was, which left haein to spend most of the days alone.

now she enjoyed being able to have a break from everything that was going on, but she couldn't help but feel a little lonely as well. there were some other gyopo friends she could spend the holidays with, but she's been distancing herself from them ever since she became a trainee. they were a little riskier and wilder than what would be expected from an idol, and she just knew they would be drinking and partying during the holidays, so she told them she had other plans.

the plans, however, did not consist of much. she was marathoning whatever was playing on tv—there were a bunch of movies she wasn't totally interested in—and she got some delivery food from the few stores that were open. it had her thinking that this is probably how a lot of young adults who lived alone with no family to visit did during this time of the year.

for a moment, haein contemplated going out on a walk on her own or maybe even going shopping, but she imagined it would make her a little sad. after all, she'd still be alone so might as well just be alone in the comforts of her own home. well, her aunt's home.

it's not like she did anything extravagant back in america either, but at least she had her family with her, even if it meant trying to get more money than her brothers when they bowed to their parents. although she hated to admit it, she kind of missed them and their annoying asses.

letting out a chuckle at the memory, she turned back to the tv in front of her and whatever movie was playing and tried her best to push that thought out of her head. it'd be no help anyway.

#be:seollal2024 #( * ♡ : self para. ) #( wc: 406. )

[julianxreese]

Daylight // self-para

Julian raised the wooden bat at eye level and inspected the infamous Louisville slugger stamp branded along the barrel with close precision. Even though it had been well past his prime playing baseball in high school, the countless ball games and practices came flooding back. His feet seemed to instinctively know what pose to land, his hands knowing where they should curl around the bat's handle, fingers firmly gripping and knuckles lining up perfectly. Muscle memory at its finest after over a decade.

The batting cages were relatively empty this time of year, ensuring him a prime spot with plenty privacy one could not take for granted. Julian required the distraction anyway, distancing himself from the family, from the faction drama, from the noise constantly bombarding his thoughts. Some people found their distractions elsewhere like reading or a long hike in their favorite park, but his options were limited. Books did nothing but remind the young man of the jealousy he experienced for the characters and their lives far unlike his own. And if rumor mill whispers began spreading as he suspected, especially when Savitri caught a whiff of his alliances, it certainly wasn't the best idea for Julian to be walking the streets so out in the open right now.

God, Savitri, how blissful it has been without the gossip blog churning and the text notifications blowing up the phone of everyone in each faction, tormenting those who became a clout target for their amusement. Julian wasn't an innocent party involved in his fair share of scandal, so it seemed surprising that no secret he kept close ever blasted across the blog's many tantalizing posts. The company he associated with increased any chance that somebody as all knowing as Savitri could place the puzzle pieces together and figure out just how much of an impossible choice he's been forced to make.

The sound of the pitching machine caught Julian's attention just in time to drag him back as it sent a baseball flying towards his direction, giving the male enough of a split second to swing the bat and completely miss it, watching instead as it veered past and smacked straight into the wired fence behind him. Damn, his skills weren't that rusty already, were they? The logical excuses came flooding through Julian's mind, his hands were sweaty, he was out of practice since high school, the sun's glare blinded his purview, nothing but reason. He was a stubborn optimist, but he could play with logic from time to time.

Julian thought fixing the position he stood in solved the problem, even adjusting the grip on the bat might aid the previous mishap. Mistakes happened, no play was perfect, he just knew the talents he possessed never failed on such a rookie fumble. Breathe and focus, sage advice from his old coach. Never take your eye off the ball. He latched onto the moral support, ensuring that was the one thought he would focus on as another baseball ejected toward him. Julian saw it coming with fervor, knowing what he must do and feeling the weight of the bat in his palms, but there was an unusual hesitation the moment he swung, once again missing the trajectory of the ball entirely. He was overthinking this now. Sitting here, imagining his coach or any pair of judgmental eyes watching him fail the second go-around when he was a well-trained baseball player. No...what Julian actually was was a washed up high school has-been varsity jock who risked everything his junior year falling in love with a faction leader's daughter.

He shook the inkling of Morrigan away, knowing what will come of it once he dives too deeply. His life didn't revolve around her, it couldn't, not when she wasn't willing to welcome him back for duty's sake. He could patch the pieces of his heart together and move on if he truly tried, surround himself with good people devoid of corruption for the most part, and find someone who never brought him this much misery. Balancing normalcy and being with Morrigan at once, who the fuck was he kidding? She threatened his younger brother, caused irreparable damage to both Austen and Wyatt's psyche, she made her choice and pushed him away. He made his too, neither weren't at fault. Why bother?

Julian tapped the bat gently against the ground and released a huff of frustration, typically holding an entire city's worth of patience and finding it draining away rather unnervingly quickly. He would hit this one right out of the park, no more thoughts about any Urie or Hedgestone, not even Casey will cloud his concentration. Something was getting to him and burrowing itself into every crevice of his mind. Those negative feelings, the strong emotions, were neatly stored within an imaginary bottle Julian concealed tight by shoving a stopper on the opening, and now...it was starting to leak. The calm and collected almost reached utter depletion, but he cannot allow that to happen. Anger doesn't prosper.

One click of the machine, nothing but the sound of the internal mechanisms spinning the two tires drifted through the crisp autumn air, and leaving a racing heartbeat pounding in the male's ears. Julian readied himself for the pitch as he had for the previous two unsuccessful times, feeling as if he were watching the ball head towards him in slow motion. How strange is it that what he was seeing wasn't actually the ball, but Douglas Urie, the true source of his burning anger etched on the pristine white leather. Morrigan's father treated her as a disposable object unworthy of love, he's the reason why their relationship imploded. He tormented, abused, murdered in power's name. And as the ball came closer, Julian could see...Douglas Urie was laughing at him. At his pain, at Morrigan's agony, certainly at the paranoia in which the foundation of his faction was built upon. Knowing his daughter knew the price of the heavy crown and having no one to trust as a result.

So, Julian swung the baseball bat as hard as he could and as accurately as he could, expecting the satisfying reverberation he anticipated from the ball making contact with the wood, but it never came. The same hesitation swept through him again and left the ball instead whistling past his head before smacking the fence, watching it drop to the cement and slowly roll toward his feet with a dramatic fashion no one would believe had he told them. Julian could do absolutely nothing for a moment except stand in disbelieving silence as the sheer irony dawned on him. The former leader of Hedgestone, alive or dead, had won.

And that was enough to shatter him.

Why can't he just live in a world where he was not forced to give up everything? His happiness, his sanctity, his sanity, placing into question his morality at every turn? A traitor among liars who spent years lying to himself over the fact he knew a faction leader intimately and still found the pathetic desires crawling back to her begging for the torment to end. You don't continue returning when the woman you still loved so clearly chose solitude unless you were an extreme glutton for punishment. It was one thing Julian had that was truly his, their secret, but men throughout history were called fools for wanting what they can never have. Forbidden love tainted by tragedy and a faction steeped by turmoil.

A switch flipped on in the eldest Reese's head that he never dared touch before, an unseen wrath shrouded by a patient demeanor and personal everyday sacrifices, snapped in two. The moment he disregarded the public setting and the self-restraint holding together the cracked edges of who he was, it was finished. The man lifted the bat and suddenly sent it flying into the wire fence, releasing an agonizing roar that carried through the wilting trees surrounding the field. However, he did not stop there. Julian reared back, losing all sense of direction as he slammed the Louisville slugger against the fence over and over and over, ignoring the ear-splitting clanging as wood collided with metal. It was as if the outrage traveled along his arm and cascaded through the makeshift weapon, a metaphorical extension of the anguish pouring from his inner core. This...this was no longer a batting cage, it was his cage, imprisoning him to a dark fate and he couldn't breathe. He needed out and he needed an escape now.

Each time the baseball bat collided with the barrier, again and again, the piercing thoughts rattled against the dark-haired male's skull like a pinball machine. What would his life beyond the faction be if he left Hedgestone behind for good in search of levity, if he abandoned Morrigan and any failing pursuit not worth signing away his whole existence? He could take the offer Judas lay before him, cross the border, and never face the woman who held his heart in her hand ever again. What he would not give for the luxury of a new life, something different to renew all lost hope. Those are the saccharine dreams of the optimism. There is no escaping who he was or the choices he made, not even Judas Langley could play the savior.

Julian couldn't recall how many throws he swung, but by the moment that bat loosened from his grasp and clattered to the concrete, he directed one last assault against the enclosure with the palm of his hand. "Fuck!" Shouting explicitly, he turned around and created distance between him and the wall towering over on all four sides. His chest heaved, his arms ached, and his entire body screamed exhaustion. Shit, he was so fucking tired of being alone fighting a losing battle nobody would ever understand in their lifetime. Alone. Morrigan didn't need him when she owned a faction, Casey would rather stay with Judas than spend another minute with his own idiot brother who pined after his secret high school girlfriend that was seconds from shoving him out the nearest exit because her faction came first. His parents, loving as they might be, dismissed the truth concealed by niceties. Even they were blinded by the pedestal they threw him on.

Julian's gaze scanned the invisible destruction he caused around him, at least grateful he didn't smash the pitching machine. What would an average person walking by the batting cage come upon if they saw him now, a bad-tempered hothead with steam pouring from his ears or a plea for help that required ignorance when he wasn't their problem to solve? His curly locks were a disheveled mess and several spots on his tee shirt dripped with patches of sweat. He looked disastrous, drained of all emotion and spark, like a hurricane wreaked havoc on all that is Julian Reese.

He reached for his jacket, uncertain of where he would go from here. Not home, not with those who pretended to be his friends, and there is no way in hell he'd end up at Morrigan's door appearing like a walking calamity. He would run from this mess that he is, no, he would be running from the daylight. If he couldn't set himself free from the length of rope tethering him to his doom, if Judas' promise could not hold, then...Julian saw darkness in the distance.

There was only one place he could go.

#self para: daylight

[worldburnrp]

HALLOWEEN, 2023.

AS PRESENTED BY FAUX FOLIE

PART TWO

In New York City, friends are easy to come by — and enemies, even more so. In media, government, or even the mundane pathways most citizens find themselves walking. Now, law and crime multiply them by the tenfold. With each street-corner, comes a new conflict. They live, die, and even kill for it. Down in the underworld claimed by crime, a tournament of sorts takes place. At the Arène, gang members fight one another — defending all that they're loyal to, with a lively audience to watch. What is usually a verbal discussion of turf politics, turns physical; decades of pent-up rage boiled down to a single moment in time. So pick an adversary, and make sure your fists can withstand the pressure. After all, in the ring, there are no weapons allowed. (Yet no one said anything about cheating...) Make your name a legacy, and your affiliates proud — while other guests party upstairs, unassuming, though bathed in just as much carnage. Theirs just looks a little different, is all.

OOC INFO

Part Two. To read up on Part One, please see the main for /tagged/wb.event

FROM THIS POINT ON, GANG MEMBERS CANNOT START THREADS OUTSIDE OF THE ARÈNE. If they already started threads outside of the Arène in Part One, said gang members should be aware that they must walk away immediately from all Faux Folie/Gentille Fille interactions and join their fellow gang members downstairs — ASAP. Affiliates may make their own choices.

We encourage members to plot out any conflicts that happen between characters! Given the nature of the event, your admins only ask that members let us know of any serious/long-term injuries by checking in through messages so we're aware and can incorporate it into our plot, or guide you through the process if needed.

As always, should there be any questions or need of assistance with any plots, please feel free to contact the admins and we’ll be happy to help you!

CHALLENGE

The same challenges from Part One are still active, with the addition of exclusive Part Two challenges as well.

COSTUME CHALLENGE: Show us what your character’s Halloween costume will be! Be as detailed as you’d like, and feel free to get creative. [ You will be awarded 100 points for completing this ]

OPEN STARTER: Write an open starter! [ You will be awarded 100 points for completing this ]

RESPOND TO AN OPEN STARTER: Respond to an open starter! [ You will be awarded 300 points for completing this ]

WRITE A MULTIPLE-CHARACTER THREAD: Write a thread where three or more characters are interacting together at once. [ Each character involved will be awarded 200 points for completing this ]

NEW CHALLENGES:

PICK A FIGHT: Your character engages in an ARÈNE fight with an enemy. Please tag your posts WBFIGHT if your character engages in this. Open for gang members & gang affiliates only. [ You will be awarded 500 points for completing this. If engaging in mutilple fights, you will be rewarded 500 for each fight. ]

PICK A FIGHT, 2: Your character engages in a regular, good ol' fight with an enemy. This can be verbal, physical, you call it. Please tag your posts WBFIGHT if your character engages in this. Open for non-gang members/affiliates only. [ You will be awarded 500 points for completing this. If engaging in multiple fights, you will be rewarded 500 for each fight. ]

STORE

So you've accumulated points. Here's how you can spend them!

MEDIA SCOOP. [ PURCHASE FOR 1500 POINTS ] (2 AVAILABLE — 0 CLAIMED)

Can be purchased by any member of the media. This person gets to put out a plotting call for their character to overhear some hot tea during the event and report on it. Whoever purchases this slot must publish an article (or other media-oriented piece, depending on their character. For example: a TV host may write a self para of a live report, etc) on dash. COVERS MAY NOT BE BLOWN — to name any characters, consent must be received by the involved muns. Otherwise, it shouldn’t feature names. AS AN INCENTIVE, THE MUN WHO VOLUNTEERS TO HAVE THEIR CHARACTER BE THE SUBJECT OF THE REPORT WILL RECEIVE 1500 POINTS. Plotting for this slot may go as far as the muns decide.

THE MAGIC KEY. [ PURCHASE FOR 2500 POINTS ] (1 AVAILABLE — 2 CLAIMED)

Can be purchased by any character. With this purchase, your character can jump into any event thread on dash of their choosing, no matter how private. The interaction will then automatically become a three-way thread. The only way to ‘reverse’ a Magic Key is by purchasing ‘Not So Fast!’, which is always available in our Burnie Bucks store.

AND THE WINNER IS [ PURCHASE FOR 3000 POINTS ] (2 AVAILABLE — 1 CLAIMED)

Can be purchased by any gang member or affiliate in a fight. Members are welcome to plot amongst themselves who gets the upper-hand in the fight — but by purchasing this, one party guarantees their win. The only way to ‘reverse’ this is by purchasing ‘Not So Fast!’, which is always available in our Burnie Bucks store.

WRONG PLACE, WRONG TIME [ PURCHASE FOR 3000 POINTS ] (0 AVAILABLE — 1 CLAIMED)

Give your non-gang member/affiliate character access to the Arène, by making this very expensive purchase. Be aware, that they are very much unwanted there... if found out.

HAVE FUN!

#crime rp #appless rp #mature rp #nyc rp #city rp #original rp #wb.event

[wesxevans]

self para

December 24, 2022

There was a silence that drifted through the town as shops had closed, people had gone home to be with their families, and the snow around them muffled any lingering noises in town. 

The cold had numbed Wes’ fingers so he could barely strike his lighter for his cigarette, while he sat on the park bench and tried to ignore the way the hollow feeling in his chest had begun to fester. Nothing seemed to make it stop turning into a void that he feared would eventually cause him to collapse in on himself, and he was running out of new things to try to prevent that from happening. 

Salem was something he loved, and while what happened behind closed doors in the Evans household was darker than many could imagine, Wes loved the town he came from. He loved the winters, the witchcraft, and he even loved the tourists that crowded their streets in October. 

But there was truly nothing left for him there. 

Holland had moved away after what happened at the party, Wes’ siblings had left to live with Esme while he stayed behind to be with their mother, but even she had gone now. Esme had called him so many times the past few weeks to tell him he should spend the holidays with her and his siblings in Aurora Bay, but he kept ignoring her calls. 

Wes didn’t want to leave Massachusetts, he didn’t want to move to California and be completely dependent on his aunt’s money- someone he wasn’t even truly related to. But he couldn’t spend another night at his house, but leaving meant accepting that he’d lost so much and he was allowing himself to lose more. 

Wes’ phone lit up then, tearing him out of his thoughts. And if he was still foolish enough to believe in fate, he might have chalked it up to that. The message simply read:

Esme - 11:58pm  Merry Christmas! Offer is still on the table

Wes stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity before finally replying, 

Wes - 12:05am Merry Christmas. Soonest flight out?

#self para: wes #here's another para no one asked for

[nathcnielarchibald]

higher ground | self-para

When: March 10th, 2023

Location: Nate’s apartment & the old Archibald townhouse

Summary: After a sleepless night, Nate decides to go for a run and ends up in front of the place he used to live in with his parents.

Trigger Warnings: mention of drugs, childhood trauma (implied), therapy

4:08 am. Nate groaned into his pillow as if he could will the numbers on the digital clock to change with the sound and make it an actual reasonable hour to be wide awake. He hadn’t caught much sleep this night - or any night for a couple of weeks now, though he usually slept better when Serena was around. And whenever either of them couldn’t sleep they found much more fun ways to tire each other out enough to eventually fall asleep. Truth be told, nights spent alone had rather become a rarity than the regular but tonight was one of those rare nights he spent alone in his apartment and it wasn’t a great one on top of that. He had too much on his mind. Eventually giving up on his fruitless tries to fall asleep again, Nate made his way downstairs to grab a cup of coffee, rubbing his tired eyes while he waited for the cup to be filled almost to the rim with the life-saving beverage. Honestly, he had no idea how he’d get through the day without it. It was still dark outside but the city lights and the moon were bright enough to shine enough light into his apartment through the floor-to-ceiling windows that he could walk around the apartment without turning any lights on, deciding to stand by the windows to watch the city while he was sipping on his coffee. The streets were still bustling with life. It was certainly true whenever people called New York City the city that never sleeps but true New Yorkers also knew that in about an hour, the streets would be a bit more empty for an hour or two - it was just a little transition period from those who came home from gatherings or parties or whatever other activity in the early morning hours to those who were getting up to get to work - and then the streets would be bustling with life again. Despite everything that he’d been put through living in this city all his life, he still had so much love for it and he was sure that would never fade away. Truthfully, as its mayor he’d become aware of quite a few more problems than he had known of before but that never diminished his urge to change it for the better.

When his coffee mug was empty and placed in the dishwasher, Nate decided to tidy up the apartment. Sure he had the money to hire staff to do so, and he does have a cleaning lady that comes by his place two times a week to dust his furniture and well, keep the apartment clean and pick up his dry cleaning as well as drop off the clothes that needed cleaning but he wasn’t like Blair or Serena or especially not like anyone in his family who hired maids that were around 24/7. He liked to get his hands dirty from time to time as well and it wasn’t like he was too messy for that to not work out just fine anyway. Once there was nothing left that needed to be put in the right place or in a hamper, Nate went upstairs to get dressed in gym shorts, a t-shirt and a hoodie planning on using the time he still had left to get to work at 8 for a morning run. Putting his fitness tracking watch on his wrist and his running shoes on, he then grabbed his phone, AirPods and keys on his way out making sure to lock the door properly. The elevator doors opened with a muffled bing, he’d already put his AirPods in but there was no music playing yet as he was still scrolling through Spotify to find a playlist, looking up briefly and smiling at the doorman as he exited the building, finally pressing play when he found something he wanted to listen to and with that already started one of his routes to Central Park.

Obvious routines were bad, that much his security people had told him. It was safer to pick different routes and to not do the same thing at a specific hour every single day so Nate made sure to follow that safety measure, especially whenever he decided to walk (or run) around the city without a security detail. He fell into a rhythm very quickly, the music in his ears somehow influencing it a little, his breathing perfectly controlled much like a professional athlete would handle it while he let his feet carry him wherever they felt like running today. The sun was slowly rising, truly one of the best backdrops one could get and the bright orange beams touching the slowly blooming trees was very likely one of his favorite sights. As much as he loved the bustling streets, he also appreciated the quieter moments of the city. There were only a few people who were getting their morning exercise in like him, some would probably call them crazy to be up this bright and early and to start their day like this but to him it was the only time of the day he could really shut all his thoughts out and truly grant himself some time all to himself. He zoned out so much that he didn’t really pay attention to where he was going, didn’t recognize the familiarity of the Alice in Wonderland statue when he passed it in Central Park and the fact he took one of the exits to 5th Avenue. A few more blocks down the street, he crossed it to end up in East 74th Street - a street that he was very familiar with when he suddenly came to a halt in front of the gates to the townhouse that at least was supposed to be his home at some point. Although it never really was, not in the actual sense of what a home should feel like at least. And also in the literal sense of him spending most of his time there, he’d spent much more time anywhere but at his parent’s place. Only that it no longer was that - his parent’s place. It hadn’t been for a long time, though his mom had still been the owner as of recently. When she’d put it on the market and Nate eventually found out through a third party, Serena did help him get a hold of the place without him having to contact his mother or even confront her about the reason why she was selling it in the first place... without even informing him or asking if maybe, just maybe, he’d want to keep it in the family. But that was just a typical Anne Archi- no, correction, Anne Van der Bilt move and honestly, to be expected because why would she include him in any decision she made ever? Anyway, it was his now. But he wasn’t quite sure if he truly wanted it to be, his that is, and what to do with it and if he would ever feel ready to actually walk inside and see if it still looked the same. His gaze dropped to the keys in his hands, which he’d pulled out of his pocket a minute ago. Maybe there was a reason his feet carried him to this place, maybe it was a sign that he felt emotionally ready to enter this ghost of the past even though he still was uncertain. Nate let out a deep breath, pausing the music and tucking the AirPods back into the case before he stepped up to the front gate and unlocked it with the fitting key he’d added to his keychain - just in case he’d ever spontaneously decide to come to this place. Perhaps there was a slight chance he knew himself better than he was ready to admit. The front door didn’t unlock as smoothly as the gate did but he eventually managed to open it, instantly being hit with a familiar and yet at the same time unfamiliar smell as he carefully entered the home. Almost as if he expected to disturb someone. The only someone he could disturb was himself though and maybe he was being this careful because he wanted to be aware of how being in this house made him feel. After all, there was a chance it could help him decide what he wanted to do with this townhouse.

One step after another... it quickly became clear that the house did look the same. Only that it was empty now, the furniture they’d used to stage the house gone and the house stripped of any personal belongings, which prompted a memory of a time that gave him chills. Certainly not the kind of memory he wanted floating in his mind while walking through his childhood “home” and yet he couldn’t help it because it did feel like the time when the FBI had taken most of their personal belongings and Nate didn’t have any idea where things would go from there on out. The dark wood and the red walls caused him to frown, truthfully he’d always hated that choice of wall color and how dark and unwelcoming it made the house look and he seriously questioned why his mother hadn’t changed that while getting the house ready to sell. His own apartment on the Upper West Side was the opposite now - aside from the already natural light flooded apartment due to the floor-to-ceiling windows, every other wall that he had in his home was painted in a warm and cozy cream color. And if there was any wooden furniture, it was light wood. If he’d keep this place, that would probably be one of the first things he’d change. He kept walking through the house, eventually ending up in his old and separate compartment of the house (which was more of his own apartment with its own entry, really) that did make it easy to have guests over without having to let his parents know (not that they would’ve really cared though). His curiosity won over the dark thoughts currently clouding his mind when he reached for a specific tile on the floor, lifting it off the ground after applying a little pressure to it to discover that his hiding spot for his weed did remain untouched and there was still a small bag with pot in it, which he pulled out with a slight grin on his face. They obviously hadn’t searched the house thoroughly before selling it but he didn’t mind that his mom didn’t discover this. It probably wouldn’t be wise to smoke it still because it was fairly old, at least over a decade or two but it triggered a few of the more fun memories of times when he had friends over and they pretended like their lives were perfectly fine, smoking weed and eating amounts of pizza that would probably make his stomach turn these days. His attention was caught by the numbers on his watch when he put the tile back in its place. If he wanted to make it to work in time and shower first, he had to make his way back to his apartment now or else he’d be running late. Even if he was technically his own boss and running late didn’t necessarily have any consequences, Nate still decided to end this little tour of the past. Honestly, he’d gone farther than he actually expected himself to without getting too overwhelmed by everything that happened in this house and the not so happy times, so he deemed it a good thing. One that he could and definitely would discuss with his therapist at their appointment later today.

#self para

[edgegreys]

Amigos invisibles

AMIGOS INVISIBLES FREE

AMIGOS INVISIBLES FREE

JOIN US AT THE AFTER PARTY FOR A FREE DRINK AT PRIMEONE16 STEAKHOUSE, 2257 First Ave. Julio Briceño, Chulius (Voz) Juan Manuel Roura, Mamel (Batería) José Torres, Catire (Bajo) The band´s name comes from the television show Human Values by Venezuelan historian Arturo Uslar Pietri, which remained in the air for two decades, where he always dedicated the show to his Invisible Friends refering to the audience. With sultry female vocals reminiscent of Amy Winehouse or Little Dragon, Elastic Bond brings together a retro-futuristic combination of folkloric rhythms and electronic beats. Los Amigos Invisibles 97554 fans A performance-oriented Latin dance band from Venezuela heavily indebted to funk and disco (with a dash of acid jazz), los Amigos Invisibles made a big splash in their homeland in 1995 with their debut album, A Typical and Autoctonal Venezuelan Dance Band, which featured odd Japanese animé-style artwork. Elastic Bond is part of new generation of multicultural Latinos who incorporate music from the past in order to make music for the future. With influences from all across the musical map, some classic and some contemporary, Elastic Bond's groove includes diverse elements reminiscent of Los Amigos Invisibles, A Tribe Called Quest, Julieta Venegas and The Black Keys. Join ImageNation Outdoors, the Historic Harlem Parks Coalition Film Festival, the Latin Alternative Music Conference and Fania Records for a special screening of this digitally remastered treasure! Restored to its former glory, Fania All Stars Live In Africa captures a particularly soulful moment in the history of Latin music. Unfortunately, this precious footage has been available only in substandard versions, quickly becoming a rare collector's item. Los Amigos Invisibles Ticket Prices Admission costs can be considerably different depending on several factors. Featuring exquisite performances by Celia Cruz, Héctor Lavoe and the All Stars' many other virtuoso players and vocalists, the concert was captured on film. Los Amigos Invisibles won another Latin Grammy Award for Best Alternative Song with the bands hit single, 'Tócamela,' in 2019. In 1974, during the heyday of the New York salsa explosion, the Fania All Stars were invited to perform in front of 80,000 people at a stadium in Zaire, Africa. 'Vivire Para Ti' should immediately be incorporated into the repertoire of any self-respecting cruise-ship dance band, and they even sing in English on 'In Luv with U.' This album falls somewhere between the minimalist funk of. RAIN VENUE: The Mount Morris Ascension Presbyterian Church, 16-20 Mount Morris Park West (southwest corner of 122nd street)ĪCROSS THE STREET FROM MARCUS GARVEY PARKĪFTER PARTY AT PRIME ONE16 STEAKHOUSE - w/ FREE DRINK! COMPLIMENTARY DRINK TICKETS WILL BE DISTRIBUTED AFTER SCREENINGįANIA ALL STARS LIVE IN AFRICA w/ ELASTIC BOND, THURSDAY, JULY 11th 7:30PM to 10PM.įREE! RAIN VENUE: The Mount Morris Ascension Presbyterian Church, 16-20 Mount Morris Park West (southwest corner of 122nd street)ĪCROSS THE STREET FROM MARCUS GARVEY PARK Los Amigos Invisibles are serious about getting the party going and keeping it going. FANIA ALL STARS LIVE IN AFRICA w/ ELASTIC BOND - FREE!

#Amigos invisibles