#(i broke the wire and had to get it replaced multiple times)

[roe-and-memory]

thinking about lightnings walkman and the headphones he had before. how when he was 15 he broke them and mack did everything he could to fix them. it didnt work and mack took him to buy new ones.

lightning hating every minute of the shopping because he likes his old ones, with the stickers and the electrical tape because some of the wires are visible. he doesnt want new ones. he wants his old ones to be fixed so he can keep them.

its.. concerning to mack, to say the least — lightning is extremely attached to his old headphones and would genuinely rather die than get brand new ones. usually a teenager would jump at the chance for new technology, but lightning is set in his ways with those old ones and gets emotional at the idea of replacing them.

“its so dumb,” he says to mack, “but what if.. the old ones feel bad. or something. because i broke them and im replacing them just like that.”

mack tries to fix them multiple times, lightning goes without them for almost two months even when he Really needs to use them. after the last try to fix them — including one of the rusteze technicians in the work as well — mack sadly gives up. he manages to corral the kid into a walmart to pick new ones. at first, lightning refuses and stubbornly stands there glaring at the small display of sony headsets, he pretends he isnt teary eyed as he gives into picking out a pair, and he picks ones that are drastically different from the originals so he can hate them even more.

theyre cheap, he makes sure of it, and then for a week afterwards he refuses to even open the box. mack suggests maybe throwing out the old pair would help, but that seems to almost set him back in this grieving process. when he finally does open the box, it’s begrudgingly. he had to wear them because he was Sick and Tired of being overstimulated in public — and theyre nice. it fills him with guilt because oh. i said i would hate them. and that night he comes to the conclusion that id he glues the old ones back together he could find a way to fit them on his stuffed dinosaurs head and still have a reason to keep them (although mack would never make him throw them out)

rumour has it he still has them to this day ‼️

[smittenroses]

— Broken Parts

Carrd | Ko-fi | Patreon | Archive of Our Own Mirror

Fandom No Straight Roads Pairing 1010/reader Chapter Summary The boys have landed themselves in a situation again, and with their situation comes a new addition.

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Rin knew he wasn’t special, he was a robot that was made to be easily replaceable; his mind was able to travel between bodies, different systems — it was in his nature to be able to overcome and adapt the many scenarios he would have to face, but, this little robot that had been cleaning their home was now laying at his feet, broken.

This robot couldn’t be as quickly replaced as they did.

It was made to be sturdy, it had been made to last a long time, but, as it laid there in a mess of parts from where their bodies had collided with the machine, Rin couldn’t help but give it a nudge with the tip of his foot, watching the lights of the machine slowly blink away, almost as if trying to get out a message before it finally would die.

“I didn’t break it.” Haym was the first to speak, yellow eyes shifting between the different brothers as he stood there, the tablet that he had been crying over moments before clutched to his chest, the sleeves of his shirt hung over his hands. “I swear I didn’t break it, I didn’t move from the couch by choice.” The couch was currently flipped, an effort made by Eloni to keep himself upright when his prank had gone off, causing the couch to jump from his position.

“I didn’t break it either.” Purl-hew was the next to speak as he stayed as far back as he could, though he wasn’t able to hide the panic in his eyes at the scene, Rin being able to see the way his eyes glitched behind the glasses, either knowing he broke the machine or he had sustained damage to his visuals. “I think Zimelu broke it.”

“The fuck?” Zimelu started, the red one throwing his arms up in the air as he spoke, “I didn’t break anything, I was just proving you wrong that you’re not the one they like the most.”

Rin knew the truth behind it but he kept his mouth shut, letting the silver eyes of his flicker over to Eloni, watching as he held the oversized party popper in his arms; a prank that the two of them had been planning for show on an upcoming live, it seemed that Eloni’s effort had gone to waste, instead, it now painted the crime scene in streamers and what Rin could assume was the washable ink that children would use in their art.

“Well, I didn’t break it either.” Rin tossed the script he had been rehearsing onto the glass coffee table that stood next to the robot, the only thing that hadn’t been upturned in that wasn’t bolted to the floor or the wall. It didn’t resemble much of the clear substance it was made of more than a party table cloth one would use at a children’s birthday party, but, as he crouched down to the robot again, he could see that there was still some battery left.

He watched the warning flash on the screen in multiple languages, the wheels of the robot spinning wildly in an attempt to try and upright itself despite the odd angle the wheels were bent at, knowing that the smell of burning rubber would be incredibly hard to miss to the human nose.

“We should bury it,” Zimelu said, picking up the cleaner robot easily, the strength that they had built into their skeletons coming in handy as he held the bot like it was nothing, listening to the inner mechanisms try and work themselves out. “Hide this from the big J, he can’t get upset if he can’t find it, yeah?”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea…” The party popper was gone from his hands as Eloni stood next to Zimelu, picking up the mess of wiring that spilled from the robot’s neck, piling it on top, “He can’t remember them all, right?”

“Until he notices that a robot is missing from a charging station.” Purl-hew’s fingers noticeably clutched the book in his hands as he spoke, barely containing the strength from ripping it in two, “Maintenance days, routine cleaning, he’ll eventually notice.”

“Then we hide the charger too.”

The noises blurred together into one at this point, Rin staring hard at the machine that sat in Zimelu’s arms, watching the warning blink and flicker, watching the robot desperately run a system diagnostic and silently call for help. It was pitful, he was glad that the robot was unable to talk or do anything like they did, fearing that the robot would scream out and sound too human for them to do what they needed to.

A shrill screech filled the room, Zimelu dropping the robot onto the hard wooden floors out of shock, the robot screaming its final cry before the screen finally went flat, laying limp in a sea of bright colours and several colourful bodies. Rin heard them long before they came, his head tilting towards the doorway to watch as their creator and their ‘father’ rounded himself into the room, a sword high in his hand.

One would question where he got the sword, but, when there was a sword around the corner every step you took just for decoration, you knew where it came from long before you could guess where he got it from. “What was that?!” Neon J shouted in alarm, the screen beeping with alarm as he attempted to locate the sound of what had screamed.

The sword was lowered as the boys stepped away from the body, revealing the cold metal to their creator. If he still had his face, Rin could imagine that it would be twisted in annoyance, the screen turning off for a moment before walking off slowly, a familiar white and pink face peeking around the corner soon after.

“What was that about not needing human staff?” Eve tsked to the cyborg, leaving the robot boys to stand in the middle of their mess.

Rin picked up the script again, leaving the room.

Rin had rarely found himself interested in others outside of their social circle, however, when a new face showed up at his home, he couldn’t help but be taken aback. Neon J rarely brought in help from the outside, even rarer that they would be within the home. Rin had listened to the ramblings of Neon J before about his paranoia that someone would come and steal things or even steal their blueprints to make knockoffs, but, Rin had never really thought on it too much until now.

With the uniform and the cleaning supplies they lugged around everywhere, he knew this had to be the replacement for the robot that now sat at the bottom of the bin, but, it felt weird knowing that there was a living human in the mansion’s walls that wasn’t one of the other stars.

Even weirder still, she didn’t seem to react too ‘fannish’ around them. As a robot built to entertain and bring joy to people, Rin was used to people looking directly at him whenever he passed by, always reacting in a very similar manner no matter who it was, but, every time he passed this maid, this lady, he noted how she never batted an eye unless she was spoken to. It hadn’t taken long for his brothers to follow in his footsteps in their confusion, Rin able to see how each tried to gain knowledge on who the favourite may be by being around her.

She didn’t react besides the pleasantries.

“Do you think she’s a robot too?” Haym whispered, the group of ‘brothers’ hiding around the corner from where the maid currently worked, watching as she polished silverware, sitting at the big dining table that only served as decoration more than practicality. It had been a question Rin had asked already, but, watching Haym’s eyes turn briefly red before returning to their usual yellow, he watched his shoulders fall.

The maid had a heat signature, she was human.

“Maybe she’s a super spy who’s been sent by another government to steal us?”

“Eloni, that’s the stupidest thing I have heard you say.” Zimelu’s answer was to the point as he leaned against the wall next to Purl-hew, Rin turning his head just enough to watch as his brother flicked through something on his phone with the help of the synthetic skin on his fingertips.

They said they were tagging along to make sure the other three weren’t getting in trouble, but Rin knew they were just as curious about the human woman.

“It could be likely…” Rin said, peeking his head around the corner again, watching as the human put down another spoon, the small pile of silver growing, “But she’s also good at what she does.”

The silence was deafening, too much so, but, as Rin saw something begin to descend from the ceiling in the middle of his vision, he crossed his eyes and watched as a spider slowly crawled down, and down, flicking his vision between Haym who was crouched below and the spider, reaching out his hand to grab at the web string that connected it above. Watching with horror as the spider dropped the string, it landed on Haym’s hand as it reached up to adjust some of the fake hair on his head.

The fallout was instant, Haym attempting to get away from the spider as fast as he could — too bad he didn’t realise he went backwards, crashing into Rin’s body as he went. Crashing, banging, errors flashing across Rin’s screen, it all happened so quickly and everything was just too loud for him to hear the rushed footsteps over to the doorway, seeing the maid staring down at them with such alarm.

He knew one of his hands disconnected, that was for sure, but, as he sat up, he took note of the pressure in his lap and looked down. Haym’s head stared up at him, disconnected from the rest of his body.

“Oh goodness!” The woman said, her hand coming up to her mouth as she took in the full extent of the chaos, “Are you ok? Do you feel pain?” It seemed that Neon J hadn’t briefed her on how they worked based on the reactions, Rin still attempted to clear his system of the errors as he listened to the maid, remaining seated on the floor as he ran a system diagnostic to check for anything else missing.

“We just fell for you, sweetheart.” Rin’s programming took control, feeling the control he had slip for a moment as it took over, spitting out the line that he had been pre-programmed to say in case of collisions on the stage, his brothers saying similar things that even Rin couldn’t help but cringe at, their voices as flat as the line was.

Yet she didn’t react to it, instead choosing to kneel by Haym’s body, hands hovering over it, almost unsure of what to do.

“Having trouble touching perfection?” Haym said. Rin knew he was crying on the inside knowing that he hated that line in particular, but, as her gaze focused on the disembodied head on Rin’s lap, the flirting, the programmed lines, they came to a halt at what was said.

“Do… Do I have permission to touch you?”

Rin had never heard it before. Fans had a habit of taking, and taking, and taking, never giving anything back in return despite everything that they did for them. He was used to just being the machine that entertained people, that was just there to be… a machine.

Never before had he been asked this, never before had his system gone as quiet as it did, leaving Rin’s conscious mind floating in a void.

“That…” Rin knew that if he were alive like he had thought about many times before, he would have a dry mouth, but, processing his words carefully, he nodded slowly, “That would be great.”

The maid’s hands worked with instruction, Haym finding his own words as he instructed her what to do, Rin holding his brother’s head upright with the hand that was still attached, watching as the woman asked questions, made sure they were comfortable with each movement, with each touch she gave to the parts that had been flung across the hall.

It made Rin’s system question the feeling that warmed his circuits as she finally got to him, her hand gripped his disconnected hand, holding back the feeling of wanting to squeeze it back as he felt his system pair it back to his body, fingers twitching as the warmth left his palm.

He was the ‘selfish’ one for attention on stage, but, he wished he was able to feel that warmth a little longer.

[sauntervaguelydown]

I’ve been thinking a lot about Gai’s leg injury again.

I rewatched the fight scene with Madara where he hits the 8th Gate and nearly dies—I had remembered it wrong, btw, it seems to me that he lost most-to-all of his foot, but the outright soot-crumbling effect seems to stop at that point. You do see his calf bones shatter massively when he makes contact on that final kick, though. From what I can tell this would be considered a closed comminuted fracture of the tibia and fibula.

So…. What would we actually do with someone who has multiple fractures under closed skin? Presumably, none of the bone bits came loose and broke the skin, since it seems intact later. That’s good…. But what do you do with the results?

Internet tells me it usually involves metal plates and pins.

The surgeon may make an incision over the fracture site if a plate and screws are to be utilized. He may make an incision at the end of a long bone and place a rod down the inner aspect of the bone to stabilize and repair a fracture. The fractured bone is then set into place. Your surgeon may use metal screws, pins, rods, or plates to secure the bone in place. These can be either temporary or permanent.

You know normally people only get these kinds of injuries in car crashes? Anyway, I'd expect there to be a lot of wires and pins inserted, given how MUCH those bones were shattered. But, I'm reading that if you have a lot of other injuries, they try to start with just external support. And he has... Other Injuries.

Tibia fractures apparently don’t take more than a year to heal, normally. But fibula injuries take at least a year. That's a long time, but it's not twelve years. What gives?

If we really wanted to justify why he has the cast on in the Boruto timeline, we could say that the bone never properly healed, and he's actually re-injured it recently, since the site is fragile. I'll circle back to this.

The cast itself could be useful, especially if complications from the burns prevented his doctors from doing surgery. Or if his body rejected the rods/pins. It also occurs to me that since medical treatment in this universe is notably different than real world medicine--involving a lot of magic seals and chakra manipulation and uhhh powdered antler--maybe they don't have the tech to make titanium rods for bones? Maybe they HAVE to use external supports. In which case you'd expect to see a metal brace with bone-screws, but whatever. Maybe they don't have that kind of tech either.

Other considerations:

He was lying on that battlefield for a long time while the final phase of the Moon Goddess Fight went down. Acute Compartment Syndrome can cause permanent muscle & nerve damage.

Sometimes bones just won't grow back together?? Yeah, that would be a problem. I can see this causing issues 12 years later.

In that case (malunion) they usually call for a bone graft when they realize it's not healing

Your doctor might recommend a bone graft if your bone shattered into fragments during your original injury. This procedure uses bone from a different part of your body or from a donor to replace the portions of bone that were lost.

I am thinking about this last thing a lot. You know that scene in the epilogue, where Kakashi is talking to Gai, saying that if there was anything he could do to fix Gai’s leg, he would do it?

If the leg was slow to healing, and Gai's other injuries made it dicey to remove any bone from elsewhere, the doctors might have called for a bone donation... and let me tell you I know who is standing at the front of the line, reading a book, refusing to be removed from the hospital.

Given the tone of their wistful conversation, I like to imagine it like this--despite wanting it to work so much, Kakashi's donation gets rejected by Gai's immune system, making things (temporarily) worse. They go back to the drawing board, rendering Kakashi once again powerless to help Gai. He tried to help in a dramatic heroic self-sacrificing way, but in the end, all he can do is be there for his friend in the mundane, human way. It's not what he hoped for. And he's still making his peace with that.

[hareefaree]

Journal - 2022 Fall Reflections - Pre-Production and The Dressmaker Project - P3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Final Photos

Puppet Time!

I'm not gonna lie, I really struggled with puppet making. So many revisions, so many re-dos... UGH it was a lot, which sucks because I really love puppet making!

Process under the cut!

So one of the first steps of Puppet building is Character Design, which I showed off in the Part 1. The orthographic drawing ended up being kind of a long shot from my final puppet, which is kind of devastating. I was going for a puppet style that I had built before - Kunal, a wire puppet from Fall 2021)

I wanted a paper head and a vaguely felted body, except this time with more fabric elements and more soft-body space. I chose to make this more distinctly felted, a decision which would bite me in the ass later.

Armature building went smoothly (I am good at armatures), and I was feeling good about the process until it was felting time/detail building time. I went for a more detail hand too - 5 fully posable fingers and a thumb that could punch in word (like the ball of your palm would) I had to remake it like twice lol.

(first and second try! I may make the fingers longer next)

Let's start with the face. I was and am dead set on giving myself the space for replacements (mouths and eyebrows) to give my girl the space to emote and maybe talk. This led to me remaking the paper of the face multiple times, using too-weak magnets to try and register features to the face, and just... multiple moments of having to peel her features off and start again. I was dead set on paper! I still am, its a material I'm most comfortable with and I wish I hadn't lost confidence with it.

At one point my professor clocked into the vibe difference between the face + the body and told me that I should stick to a similar texture between face and body. I was not about to replace the felt work I did, so I decided to felt the face. It ended up being this kinda disturbing mask of a face - I took a tan felt sheet and stabbed in the brown I wanted her to be, attempting to assemble it like I would paper and while it did its job, I really want to do it over.

The final puppet broke. Like literally the day before I shot my test shots I was putting clothes on her body (a really simple chudidar that involved me lifting her arms up high to get it on) and I heard this awful crack and before I knew it, her arm was no longer posable. I did not have the time to remake the whole armature from scratch so I just had to cope. Thankfully when I notified my professor about it she agreed that I should just use the broken armed puppet (I could still bend at the elbow, I just lost the more intense shoulder articulation that I would've had if she was ok). I'm just redoing her (and making two other puppets for the final short film).

Here is her turn around!

Next post will be my final shots hehehe >:)

[goldencherryhazz]

And the Grammy Goes to....

I AM SOO PROUD OF HIM, I HONESTLY HAVE NO WORDS 🥲🥲🥲

(not proofread, notes would be much appreciated,pls don’t copy my work, hope you enjoy!!! 🤍)

Grammy!Harry x famous!gf reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, swearing.

WC: 3k

You and Harry were currently backstage at the Grammys, one of the biggest nights in the music industry, you honestly couldn’t believe you were here alongside him, even though you had walked many red carpets before by yourself and with Harry, being a well know singer yourself, having written 2 successful albums, but being alongside your 3 time grammy nominated boyfriend felt surreal. And to top things off you were about to watch open the show.

‘You okay baby’ he asked through the slightly ajar bathroom door where he was currently getting changed into his second outfit of the night after walking the red carpet, he wanted to surprise you with this one. ‘Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that, you’re the one who’s performing, virtually, in front of thousands and thousands of people’ you said from your perch on the couch. You were wearing a very pretty and expensive dress which you planned on not getting dirty or creased.

‘A little I guess, but I think I’ll be fine once I get out there I think’ he replies a bit breathless shuffling around probably trying to get whatever he was wearing on.

‘I’m dressed now, need you to close your eyes love’

‘Okay, they’re closed’ you replied, thinking about how little time it took him to get changed, getting more excited every second, and she had every right to be. When he comes through and stands right in front of you and tells you to open your eyes you’re met with Harry clad in a black leather suit jacket which no shirt underneath, with matching trousers. His toned abs graced with his butterfly and chest on full display, a green boa wrapped loosely round his neck.

Her eyes were wide, her mouth hung open in complete admiration ‘how do I look baby?’ he asks twirling round for her, she stood up placing her hands on his bear chest once he was stationary, then quickly moving her hands to his jaw pulling him in for a teeth clashing kiss, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths, he pulls back surprised by her sudden actions ‘I’m guessing you like it then’

‘You look fucking amazing H’ you could feel your panties getting damp, ‘I think I like it a little to much’ your lips grazing his. He hummed sensing where this was going, but not stopping at all, quickly ooking at the clock on the wall behind him ‘well we’ve get 20 minutes until I’ve got to be on stage, gives us plenty of time’

‘Are you suggesting we fuck in this dressing room right now, what if we get caught?’ You said still starting to grind your hips against his hardening bulge anyway.

‘If I remember correctly, that’s why locks on doors were invented lovie’ he says taking a few small steps towards the door of the dressing room and flicking the lock shut, then coming back to you ‘so what do you say angel, gotta be quick though’ you didn’t say anything, practically pouncing on him, gripping the green boa gently unwrapping it from his neck, before throwing it, not caring where it landed, kissing him again hoping he got the message, which he did loud and clear ‘let’s get this dress off you first’ he says, you quickly agreed as he reached behind you to unzip it, the dress falling off your shoulders to reveal you breasts, having opted to not wear a bra tonight, you stepped out of the garment before draping it over the back of the couch.

Once you had done, Harry gripped your hips, bringing you closer to him, bringing his head down to your chest wrapping his lips around your gardening nipple, you moaned out at the feeling, he does the same to the other before kissing and sucking hickeys onto you collarbones and neck, which you knew you would have to cover up later.

‘Jump’ he said between breathless kisses, which you instantly complied, wrapping your legs around his waist, gripping onto his shoulders, his hands gripping your ass, he manoeuvred around the dressing room until he got to the counter where various products laid, he swiped them off not caring if they broke, already making a promise to himself to replace them if they did. He placed you down, your ass making contact with the cold surface. He shimmies your panties down your legs, the sight of your pussy making him impossibly harder, he pressed a quick kiss to you clit, before going to undo his trousers, and shimmying them down his legs, his cock springing free as he had decided on no boxers, that there was no time for foreplay you both silently agreed. He then start tugging at the lapels of the leather jacket before you objected ‘can you keep it on’

He smirks ‘you want me to fuck your in this leather jacket baby’

‘Yes, fuck yes’ your eyes oogling the sight of his cock against his belly beading pre-cum ‘well your wish is my command’ he knew he probably shouldn’t, not wanting to get it sweaty or anything, but by the look on your face and the sight of you pussy pulsating around nothing, he knew this wouldn’t take long.

He gives no warning when he slams into you, making you scream out in pleasure, before he quickly kissed you to muffle your moans, not wanting to get caught, he sets a quick and hard pace, practically fucking you into the counter, his hands gripping you hips so hard it would probably leave bruises, you dig your heels into his ass wanting him as close as possible, feeling the smooth leather against you skin sending shivers up your spine.

‘Fuck you feel so good’ he groans burying his face into your neck, your hands tangling into his curls, quickly grabbing the opportunity to suck a hickey onto his neck, which you knew he would be annoyed at because he was going to be out on stage in 15 minutes, but you loved marking him up so everyone could see.

‘H I’m not going to l-last much longer’ throwing your head back, your arms behind you going weak from holding yourself, your fingers trying to dig into the counter, his thrusts hitting your special spot every time.

‘Me neither baby’ he felt like he was in cloud 9, the only sound in the room was moans snd skin hitting skin, feeling himself on the brink already, as your cunt was clenched around his length. He brings his hand down to your clit, his ringed fingers slightly shaky as he starts to rub deep circles on your clit to get you there.

‘Holy shit, I’m gonna cum’ you moaned ‘yeah, cum with me angel, cum around my cock’

Both moaning in unison you release around each other, his hot cum painting your walls, mixing with your juices, you swear you stopped breathing, your eyes continuously rolling to the back of your head as you ride out your high. Harry’s eyes were wired shut, his grip on your hips not faltering, mouth hung open. As your arms were about to give way Harry places his hand on your back, almost knowing that was going to happen. You look at him, pushing back some of the hair that had fallen into his face. ‘that was so fucking good, legs are shaking’ he slurs out, almost as if he was drunk on his high. ‘Yeah, fuck don’t know if I’ll be able to walk’ he slowly pulls out, his cum flowing out of you, he ducks his head down to clean you up, you legs spasming from the sensitivity.

He leans up to kiss you, tasting yourself and his cum.

‘Did so good for me baby, I’m gonna see if I can take this home’ he says pointing at the jacket.

‘And why’s that H’ you asks

‘Just think it’s going to come in handy one day’ says making you smile because you already knew the answer.

You quickly look at the clock ‘C’mon we gotta get ready, your on in 8 minutes’ getting up from the counter on shaky legs and walking to put your pants and dress back on, he chuckles at his girl desperate to see him out on stage again.

He gets dressed grabbing his boa that was discarded on the floor, pulling his shoes on, walking through to you, seeing you struggle with the zip of your dress, he goes over sliding it up, pressing a kiss to your back ‘have I told you how pretty you look today’ he asks as you touch up your hair and makeup. ‘Only about 10 times’ he gasps in fake shock ‘only 10, I need to keep up don’t I baby’ this makes you laugh. ‘You look pretty today too bub’ you say, but soon enough you cute little moment is interrupted by three knocks on the door and Jeff saying ‘Harry your on in 3 minutes, get your ass out here’ this makes you laugh because Jeff or anyone for that matter are oblivious to what you’ve just been doing.

///

Soon enough Harry is out on stage. Any nerves he had had dissipated. He was high in adrenaline from being buried in your cunt barely 10 minutes ago, shaking his ass and dancing around the stage, he gripped the boa throwing it to the floor, replicating you actions form the dressing room, you knew the world would be going crazy for him right now, singing the lyrics to watermelon sugar, you were in awe. To be honest you had gotten a little horny again from watching him but you knew that could be dealt with later. Most of all you were so proud, he was opening the Grammys for godsakes, how couldn’t you be, your pretty sure he would be able to see you smiling even through your mask.

He sings the last notes, thanking everyone before running off stage to you, ‘I’m so proud of you baby you say wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. ‘thankyou angel’ he says, over the past few days you had showered him in love and affection, and he had to admit that he was loving the attention. Harry quickly gets changed again into the outfit he was wearing on the red carpet, your stylist has asked if you wanted multiple outfits, but you said no because you wanted tonight to be completely focused on Harry and to be fair you loved the dress you were wearing it was so comfortable, so you didn’t really want to change out of it anyway.

After that Harry joined you again in the side of the stage again, where you watched various people perform, most being really good friends, like Billie, Taylor, Dua, Maren Morris, Dababy and so many more. Soon enough you were sat round a table with Harry and Jeff, one of his categories getting closer and closer to being announced, it was weird you had to say, doing the Grammys during a pandemic, without a whole audience bringing a whole lot of energy to the entire thing. You guess you just couldn’t wait for everything to be safe and get back to normal, you wanted to go on tour and sing your heart out.

You could tell Harry was getting a little nervous he had a hand on your thigh and he squeezed it every so often, almost using it as a stress toy. ‘Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine bub’ you whispered in his ear, he smiled at you comforting words, his head now resting on you shoulder and he held you hand under the table, as you both watched the show and clapped and congratulated people on their wins.

Soon enough the nominees for the category ‘best pop solo performance’ were being announced, Harry head instantly snapped up from your shoulder, Jeff grabbing hold of his shoulder, you let out a little squeal when his name popped up in the screen. Getting more and more excited.

The presenter starts to open the envelope, you were literally on the edge of your seat, Harry’s leg bouncing up and down.

‘And the Grammy goes to...Harry Styles’

You slapped your hand over you mouth, ‘you did it baby’ you practically screamed. He was pulled in for a hug by Jeff, taking off his mask in the process. The look on his face held shock and greatfulness. He pulls away from Jeff, pulling you straight into his arms, you swear you’ve never squeezed him tighter ‘I’m so fucking proud of you baby’ you say, tears in your eyes. He didn’t respond he was lost for words, which you understood, he pulled your mask down so he could catch you lips in a quick kiss, before pulling it back over your nose again. ‘Go on, get up there, go get your Grammy’ which he does.

He walks up to the stage, and you don’t know why but you stand up, your hands are over your chest as he thanks Jeff, Mitch and everyone who he made watermelon sugar with. You see him rubbing his eyes trying not to get emotional. He thanked his label and his fans especially, by now your tears are falling down your face you just had so much love for this man, you were over the moon for him.

‘And finally I would like to thank my wonderful girlfriend y/n who you all know very well. You have been there for me through everything, you have been my support, my muse, you’ve believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I honestly would be the person I am today without you, i love you baby’

You knew everyone was staring at you, but you didn’t care at this moment in time, it felt like it was only you and Harry in the room.

He finally finishes his speech, grabbing his well deserved award, coming off the stage where he was bombarded with congratulations and praise from people left right and centre. He was whisked away to do interviews and conferences with you alongside him, you just looked at him awestruck when he was answering various questions, you being asked some yourself.

He had become very clingy after his win not wanting you out of his sight, touching you in anyway possible, holding your hand, having his arm wrapped round you, he even at one point wrapped his boa around your neck, with it being long enough for the two of you to wear, but didn’t end well for obvious reasons, but it did nearly have you on the floor laughing.

‘I’m so proud of you H’ you said for about the billionth time in the past half hour. ‘Thankyou angel, and I really do mean that when I say it’

‘I know you do H’ you say sweetly

‘And I mean it when I say I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you’

You could cry at that, but instead you wrap him in another tight hug, burying your head into the crook of his neck leaving a kiss there.

///

A little while later it was the afterparty, a very small one fire to the pandemic, but still and afterparty. Harry’s other category that he’d been nominated for had been announced, but he didn’t win, the Grammy going to Dua, which you were very happy about. At this point in time you didn’t care how many Grammys or awards he won, and Harry didn’t either the biggest award for him was having such supportive fans, he felt incredibly lucky to have the job he had and the people he had around him, being able to create music and tour the world. He also felt very lucky to have you by his side, he knows it’s cheesy but it was true.

So there you were catching up with old friends congratulating people on their wins, having a few drinks, you had the best time, you swear the smile never left Harrys lips, it was honestly the best being able to have normal conversations and just have lots of fun with some of your friends and some of your idols.

Soon enough it was home time, which was also very unusual because if there wasn’t a pandemic right now, there was no such thing as an allocated home time after the Grammys. You and Harry bid your goodbyes to Jeff who was going in a different car to go home. You and Harry piled into the backseat of your designated car, Harry telling the driver the address to you two’s house, he was kind of exhausted but felt like he was on top of Mount Everest, he was just so unbelievably happy, he pulled out his phone seeing messages from all kinds of people congratulating him, deciding he’ll respond to them later.

He once again pulls you into him, resting his head on your chest, your fingers card through his hair, before landing on his cheek rubbing up and down it.

‘Hey baby you won a Grammy’ you whisper to him, he looks up at you, your eyes getting lost in his.

‘I know, still doesn’t feel real, he pouts his lips silently asking for a kiss, in which you happily give him, pressing your lips to his before attacking his face, pressing tiny kissing all over it, making him laugh, which then made you laugh.

Ya know, I don’t know what I like hearing more, you moaning ‘I’m gonna cum’ or ‘and the Grammy goes to Harry styles’ he teases

‘Heyyyy’ she said in fake offence

‘I’m only joking’ he snickers ‘it will always be you baby’

‘I love you bub’ you hummed happily

‘I love you too angel’

[infernal-fire]

TAU (1/2)

Summary: Steve Rogers traps you inside his mansion. Your only means of escape? The naïve A.I., Bucky, that is designed to kill you if you ever step out of line. 

Pairings: Dark!CEO!Steve x reader, A.I!Bucky x reader, Bucky x reader

This is part of a series of works (not interconnected). I highly suggest you read the description of the series master list to better understand the premise of this story. 

Warnings: swearing, kidnapping, mention of sedative, technical Lima syndrome, psychological abuse, violence, blood, character deaths, injuries, mention of depression, suicide & poverty

The chair was on the brink of collapsing, yet Martha folded her arms and leaned back into it anyway. You internally grimaced, waiting for her to fall flat on her ass or give you the bad news. It had to be bad news. You had done this enough times to know that she periodically bounced her right leg only when there was bad news. These days, that was often. 

You huffed once, loud enough for her to hear, hoping to hint that you were hanging by the threads of your patience. She took the hint, finally throwing open the drawer in front of you with excessive force. Pens rolled and a notebook slid towards her amid the force. Again, another piece of furniture that was ready to give in. For someone as stingy as her, you aren’t surprised that it hasn’t been replaced - just wondering why she’s treating it like it won’t disintegrate any second now. 

Martha’s plump fingers slapped a couple of bills onto the table, her seedy eyes challenging you to pluck them from under her hand. You wrestled the bills out of from under her palm and diligently counted them, only to shake your head defeatedly. 

“That’s it?” you snarled.

“Steal better shit next time,” she replied, shrugging. 

You slowly sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, refusing to open your eyes and face her.

“I really need the money.” 

When you open your eyes again, it’s because you hear the roll of her weathered chair. Now standing full height, the middle-aged woman shook her head softly, a hint of a smirk playing out on her lips. 

“Like I said; steal better shit.” She turned to leave before facing you again. “You could always come and work with our girls.”

She glanced through the door that was cracked open, eyes resting on the table situated in the corner of the adjacent room. Around it, a group of girls set down cards while pushing poker chips around. 

“Sell my body? I’d rather die,” you scoffed. 

“Suit yourself. Now, get out.”

“Was planning to.” You flipped her the bird, knowing that she was watching you leave.

“Real classy,” she called after you. “You gotta come back here for your next week’s dinner, you whore!”

“That’s all you,” you smiled at her before slamming the door closed on your way out. Oh, the satisfaction of pissing someone off; unparalleled. 

Placing your measly wage into a makeshift purse, you made your way back home. You hugged your frame tightly, keeping your head down and pacing through the dilapidated neighbourhood. 

Once upon a time, when you were new to the shadier areas of town, you affirmed to yourself every day that this situation was temporary. The hope for a better job, better apartment and better tomorrow kept you going for a long time. Deep down though, you knew it wasn’t temporary, and now you were being proven right every day. What was keeping you going these days? Multiple times, you delayed the contemplation of that question, knowing that if you thought about it… well, it’s better to not go there. 

You were careful to double-check the lock on your door and windows when you stepped into the cramped shower. Today, you thanked God for hot water, even though you were sure he didn’t exist. Mind empty like a brand new chalkboard, you shuffled around your one-room housing and put together something edible to appease the churning stomach.

Your ear perked up at what sounded like the creaking of the fourth floorboard from your bed. You locked the door. You were sure of it. 

Still, you peeked over the short dividing wall that hid the view of your bed from the kitchen. Nothing. You shook your head at your paranoia and turned back to get to the less-than-appetizing meal waiting for you. 

Steve jammed the needle into your neck, expecting you to fall back into his arms. Instead, your forehead hits the edge of your counter and you slump onto the floor. Your eyes shutting down and head throbbing, you reach out to feel your attacker and touch Steve with saucy fingers. He groans in annoyance as he picks up your whimpering form. 

Thump, thump, thump.

The nightclubs you frequent were full of snobby, rich kids who didn’t know the value of wealth. You stole to survive. They could survive without their wristwatch for one night. 

Thump, thump, thump.

Music turned the speakers inside out, deafening those closest to it, but the youth are resilient to damage in any form. For you, though, it was too loud; too much. It wasn’t uncommon of you to walk away from the scene with a pounding head. 

Thump, thump, thump.

The inside of your head resembled the thumping of club speakers. Jaw slack and eyes foggy, you tried to rub your temples. But your arms wouldn’t move. 

Sitting up the best you could, you looked down at your hands to see them bound by zip ties, sitting on your lap. It was joke-worthy how your captor thought they could bind you with zip ties, of all things. He would have to do better than this. 

You tugged on the end of the tie using teeth and tightened it some more before huddling your knees up to your chest. Bringing your hands down as hard as you can against your kneecap, you awaited the snapping sound of the zip tie. Nothing came. You look at your hands again, realizing that they were still bound.

“Don’t do that,” a voice piped up from the dark corner of the room. Startled, you look to the source of the voice but no light fell in that direction. For the first time, you took in your surroundings: half of the room was divided by a set of bars. The other side had large machinery with wires running towards the jail section. As you trailed your eyes across the wires, you noticed a closed door. 

At least you knew it was possible to escape now. 

Quickly turning to the place the voice came from, you scooted backwards some more and anticipated the arrival of your captor. 

A woman crawled forward slowly with bounded legs and arms like yours. 

Seeing that it was just another prisoner, you tightened the strap of your zip tie again and tried breaking it one more time. It snapped. Rubbing your wrists where they were bound, you got straight to undoing the bind on your legs. Beside you, the girl moved closer and repeatedly begged you not to free yourself. 

“Shut up, Brit,” you mumbled, referring to her accent.

The bind on your legs gave away and you stood up and stretched. Tentatively stalking around the cell, you noticed the toilet and sink. Why would he have those amenities in here if you were tied up anyway? When you went to touch the bars separating the room, the girl cried out again. 

“Stop! Don’t!” 

You rolled your eyes and touched it anyway. Electricity surged through you and you yelped, pulling back immediately. 

“Could’ve told me it was an electric gate,” you snapped. 

“Don’t try to escape.” 

You looked at her incredulously. “And sit here like ducks, waiting for him to kill us?”

“Someone will find us!” she pleaded. 

“Look at me! Look at you! No one is looking for us. The police won’t blink twice if people like us are gone. And he knows that.” You eyed the door that was inside your cell and looked to the other one outside the bars. 

“Do you want me to remove your binds or not?”

The girl sheepishly looked down before sticking her arms out for you. 

“My name is Peggy,” she offered as she stood up. She held your arm for support when blood rushed to her head. You shot her a withering look in response and she took her hand off. 

“I don’t think we can leave. He can probably hurt us with these implants.” Peggy pulled her hair to one side and showed you the nape of her neck. A glowing red triangle shone from under her skin. 

Your eyes widened, immediately reached for the back of your head. You felt around and touched the area that stung a little when you touched it. You compulsively hissed, realizing that your implant was fresh and the skin around it had not healed yet. 

“Has he done anything to you using the implant?” you held and shook Peggy’s shoulders while you questioned. 

“No, no, but he said it collects brain data and that it was connected to my spinal column, so I shouldn’t try anything.”

“He spoke to you?”

“Once. It’s Steve Rogers, the inventor guy on the cover of all the Forbes magazines.”

“Brain data,” you silently repeated as you look to the other side of the cell again. 

“I have an idea. Rip your clothes like this,” you demonstrated.

Using the rags ripped off from both of your prisoner uniforms, the pair of you created a long rope-like contraption with a loop on the end. You stuck your hand through the gaps in the cell and tried to fling the loop to a nook in the machinery. Failing hurt, your arm accidentally brushing against the metal once or twice before the loop finally caught onto a crevice. 

“That’s the wrong part,” your fellow inmate breathed.

“Yeah, but that’ll work too.” You pulled as hard as you could and a section of the machine broke off, sparks flying from the source. It crackled and caught on fire. 

Peggy was pulling the cell door open, grunting as she tried her best. It gave way and you both looked at each other briefly before dashing out of the room. The jail room went up in flames behind you. Peggy looked over her shoulder, but you yanked her arm, signalling her to keep running. 

You flew up stairs and through doors, finally making your way into a clearing. Peggy rushed to what seemed to be the entrance door and frantically banged on it. 

“HELP!”

“That’s not gonna work!” you rushed to the door and inspected the lock. On the right side, there was a screen that displayed a handprint. 

Do not try to escape. Only Steven can leave the premises. 

“What?” you whispered. The new voice was coming from all around you, seemingly through fixtures in the ceiling and walls, but you couldn’t be sure. The situation was tense and you were scared the whole house was going to burn down.

Before you could catch her, Peggy planted her hand on the screen which scanned and turned red. Suddenly, all the lights emanated red, accompanying a booming alarm that blared through the house. 

In the distance, what you assumed was a statuesque décor piece, came to life. It reminded you of the spiders from the Maze Runner. A motorized killing machine. It stalked towards Peggy and you with pincers appearing from its side. 

Screaming, Peggy ran. So did you, but you weren’t sure if you were screaming. You couldn’t hear through the noise your friend was making on top of the deafening alarm. 

The spider machine stuck out its knife-like hands, trying to stab you. As you ran into another room, you frantically searched for an exit. Right now, your priority was to survive this thing.

You pulled open a cupboard in what appeared to be the study and instructed Peggy to climb in. The monster was coming. There wasn’t much time to hide. 

You shut the closet door and hid behind a lounging chair in the corner. 

The machine came in and scanned the room, looking for your heat signatures. It could see Peggy.

The cupboard door flung open and Peggy shrieked, crawling out of it in attempts to move out of the line of attack. She took 4 steps on her knees and looked straight into your eyes. 

“HELP ME-”

You screamed when she was dragged back towards the machine. You couldn’t save her anymore. You mobilized and ran back to the living room area, not even turning back to address blood that splattered across your back. It wasn’t in your best interest to find out how she was killed. 

“Aries!”

Frozen in fear, you look to your right to see the entrance door open. There stood your captor, staring at the machine that was now hovering over you. 

“Stop,” he muttered and set down his briefcase. 

Aries retracted its pincers, making its way back to the little pedestal it was perched on before. It powered down just as the CEO stepped into the house and glared at you.

For a split second, the doors were open, and you considered tackling past him. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

You collapsed onto the floor where you were already lying down. Getting out was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated. 

Your hands were bound again, but this time, behind you. You were seated on a pedestal like the one Aries was on, except this one had an ugly glass décor piece that extended to the ceiling. You tugged on the bonds, hoping for some leeway, but Rogers had learned his lesson. 

You shook your head side to side, trying to get pieces of hair and blood off your face. Eventually, you had to give up, slumping into the post your arms were tied to. 

“You cost me 7 million dollars worth of tech,” Steve’s voice sounded from another room. 

“If you let me go, I swear on my life I won’t tell anyone. They won’t believe me anyway.” 

He appeared in front of you and placed both hands on either side of your thighs. 

“Things will work out for you, if you just… shut up.” 

You exhaled and turned your face to the right, hoping he’d stop invading your personal space. 

“Just… please, untie me.”

He stood back and considered your request before rounding the side of the pedestal and untying you. 

“Bucky?”

Yes, Steve.

“Activate Aries if she moves a single inch from her spot.” He eyed you at the end of his command and sauntered away to god-knows-where. 

You hoped it wouldn’t be pushing your luck to stand up and stretch, so you did. You mentally considered the various stretches you did as a child, during gymnastics. It had been years since you recalled those, so you did them to the best of your ability. It’s funny how life works. One day you were among a row of girls, learning how to do a cartwheel and before you know it, you’re in a psycho’s mansion as a lab experiment. 

About 30 feet away from this pedestal was Aries.  

Cautiously, you took a few steps away from your place. No reaction from Aries. That meant ‘Bucky’ and Aries weren’t the same thing. You could also deduce from Steve’s command, Bucky was capable of conversing.

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position.

You took another step anyway, wondering how much you could test the limits of this A.I. 

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position. 

You considered making a run for it but reconsidered. Aries would activate in less than 5 seconds and Steve was still in the house somewhere. You needed to play this better. Besides, you didn’t even have an exit point. 

You went back to your pedestal and sat down, drawing patterns on the ground with your feet. It would help to know the time or date. A part of you wondered if anyone was looking for you, but you yourself had answered that question long ago. No one looks for people like you or me. 

It could’ve been hours or minutes, but finally, Steve called you into a different room. You observed your environment as you stalked towards the kitchen area where the inventor was seated. 

“Sit,” he motioned at the chair that was on the other end of the table. 

As soon as you sat, tiny robots flew to your seat and placed food in front of you. It was some sort of soup with a side of bread, the only utensil he gave you being a spoon. Smart bastard. 

You wanted to hold off on the food; you really did. But you didn’t even get to eat the sandwich that you were putting together before the kidnapping. So you began devouring the meal, ignoring his pointed stare at your lack of table manners. It was only when you were halfway through the meal did you realize that the food may be drugged. Too late now.

“You killed my only other test subject and rendered her data useless.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

Steve dropped his steak knife and fork, shooting daggers into your eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began. Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his elbows. You could tell by the way he talked that he was used to getting what he wanted. He relished in it.

“Every day, for the next two weeks, I’m going to leave for work. And every day, you’re going to complete the puzzles and tasks that Bucky tells you to do.”

“And if I don’t?”

“It won’t take me more than 10 minutes to kill you, clean up the mess and dispose of your body.”

“If you could kill me, you probably would’ve. I know you considered it,” you remarked, leaning back into your chair and folding your arms.

“Now, why would I waste a perfectly good test subject?” It was his turn to mimic your body language. 

“If you want me to do what you need me to do, I need three things,” you announced. 

“It’s funny how you think you have any leverage in this situation.”

You kept your face stoic, trying to prove that you were serious about the negotiations. If he didn’t allow you these requests, you would never escape. 

“Okay, go on,” he said, clearly amused. 

“I need clothes. Regular clothes, not prisoner uniforms. I need to shower. And I need proper food, like what you’re eating.”

“That’s quite the list.” he laughed. Abruptly, his features turned serious. “I hope you know that you don’t hold any cards against me right now, and if I allow any of those things, it’s out of the kindness of my heart.”

It was your turn to laugh. “The kindness of your heart,” you wheezed between laughs. “Sure, okay. Yeah.”

He swallowed the last piece of his meal and gestured towards the sofas. 

“Bucky will be guarding you throughout the night. Don’t think of trying anything.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you beamed at his sour expression right before leaving the table.

Masterlist

[rekrappeter]

Over Again || r.c

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: being best friends with sarah cameron has it’s perks, her brother is the cherry on top [the usual cliche]

warnings: cursing | smut 18+ pls | most likely a choking kink at some point | unprotected sex | low?? risk of public sex | underage drinking | typos

**is bathroom sex low risk? idk**

note: you can thank @diverdcwn​ and @afterglows7b-tch13​ for there being smut in this :) enjoy + please let me know what you think about this!

masterlist

gif by @ptersparkers​ ♡

"Sarah, be careful," You shouted at your best friend, cringing while you watched the blonde carefully step over live wires to retrieve the stuffed animal stuck in a boat for a little girl. Everyone around you paused to watch the commotion, Rose was walking away in annoyance, muttering profanities under her breath and you spotted the troubled trio watching her intently from across the lawn.

Topper was almost jumping out of his skin, his eyes widening at his girlfriend’s actions. Kelce stood beside him, ceasing his conversation to pay attention to her. And the third and final member had a intense and displeased look on his face, but Rafe wasn't staring at his sister. His gaze was glued to you and you stared back at him, feeling yourself getting hotter under the burning sun. Your attention was snapped to Sarah when the sound of her scream echoed around the river.

Jumping from the spot on the grass that you were sitting on, you rolled your eyes when she started to laugh, mocking your expression. "Idiot," you muttered under your breath, bending down to grab your beach bag to drape it over your shoulder.

"Leaving so soon?" His drawn out voice sent shivers down your spine, his palm rested on your lower back as his chest pressed into your back. He must have rushed over to you in a sweat.

You turned around to face him, your eyes narrowing slightly at the smug smile stretching across his lips. "I have plans." You retorted, starting to walk away from the crowd gathering around Sarah. You knew that Topper would look after her at this point.

"Well, cancel them," Rafe suggested, jogging to catch up with you.

"Doesn't work like that," You scoffed, walking towards your car that was parked by the Cameron's mansion. You went to open the door but Rafe's larger hand closed it just as quick. He placed his hands on your waist, turning you to look at him and he trapped you between his body and your car. "Rafe, we talked about this. It was a one time thing."

"It was fun though, wasn't it?" He smirked, leaning down and placing his lips along your jaw. Your eyes fluttered shut, your heart hammering against your chest but before you lost yourself under his spell, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away.

"We both agreed it would be a one time thing, we were drunk." You couldn't help but feel embarrassed about the night you spent with your best friend's brother. You had known him your whole life, and despite being closer to his age than Sarah's, you still felt extremely guilty over it. Especially because you haven't told her yet.

Rafe raised up the cup he held firmly in his hand, one you didn't notice before. "I'm nearly drunk now."

"Rafe, it's barely even midday."

You looked up at the taller boy, noticing how soft his skin looked but his eyes were near hallow. The once endearing icy blue orbs were replaced by empty, dull ones. His hair was perfectly gelled back with his sunglasses resting on top of his head. His pink and blue striped shirt clashed against the pink shorts you decided to wear today. If a stranger spotted him, he'd look so put together but you knew him better than that. There was something deeper going on.

"What ya staring at?" Rafe smirked, leaning down attempting to press his lips against yours but you turned your head, making him capture your cheek. "Well, that's just rude." He chuckled, sighing and pulling away completely.

This allowed you to open the car door and create a barrier between you. "You know I'm always here if you want to talk, Ray." You were being sincere, knowing that he didn’t have much trust in other people.

"And you know I'm always here if you want to fuck, Y/N/N."

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help your own smile that lifted onto your face. "You're impossible."

"And you're gorgeous."

"Goodbye, Rafe." You sang, hopping into your car and slamming the door shut. You looked at him, watching him signal you to put the window down. "What now?" You asked, resting your elbow on the ledge of the turned down window.

"Do you have a date to Midsummers?" He asked, his stare soft and gentle for once.

You laughed, shaking your head. "You know I don't bring dates to that, they'd have to answer to my father," you tried to play it off as a joke, but deep down, it annoyed you that you couldn't choose who to bring the Kook event of the year. Your father needed a by to by on their life history, in fear of destroying the family name.

"I get along well with your dad," Rafe hinted, he walked closer to the car, his arm leaning against the top of your door and his forehead resting against it, "Let me take you."

Your heart clenched in your chest, watching his face disappearing of any hint of that cockiness he was used to sporting. He looked vulnerable in that moment, the fear of rejection evident. He has asked you out multiple times before but to ask you to Midsummer's was something new. Something you weren't expecting.

"I'll think about it."

The beam in his eyes made your heart soar, and you waved at him, flicking your sunglasses over your eyes and start to pull away from him. "I'm wearing baby blue!" He yelled after the car, and you laughed waving your hand out the window to tell him you heard that.

The day of Midsummers finally arrived. There was no denying that Rafe Cameron occupied your thoughts over the last few nights; he hadn’t tried contacting you and you had been keeping a low profile on the island so was void of any chance of seeing him around. It didn’t bother you that he didn’t call, he never did before. But you couldn’t hide the excitement that was bubbling in your stomach knowing that in less than two hours you were going to see him again, despite turning him down multiple times. You enjoyed the games that he played, you liked making him work for you and you knew that he liked it just as much.

“You look beautiful, princess.” Your father’s voice broke through your thought process, you eyes staring at yourself in the floor length mirror that you had in your bedroom. The champagne pink dress hugged your figure, swooping out at your ankles to show off the heels you bought the day before. You styled your hair simple, clipping in small decorations to hide any bumps or frazzled pieces. 

“Thanks, dad.” You followed him down the stairs, meeting with the rest of your family. The annual pictures were taken, and you eventually found yourself walking through the Island club. The smile that was plastered over you face was genuine as you greeted family friends all dressed up to the nines, the finest champagne in their flutes that they would sip on all night. You didn’t have anything against anyone here, but your mind was solemnly sought on finding the dirty blonde that has been driving your mind crazy. 

The sun was slowly setting, the evening ambiance glowing around the club’s rather large patio. “Y/N!” You heard Sarah’s voice over the live band, watching her stalk away from Topper who was protesting, but shortly gave up when he knew he lost whatever argument they were having now. “You look gorgeous!” She grinned, taking your wine glass out of your hand and carefully took a big gulp, making sure there were no adult figures looking in your direction. 

“As you do, m’darling. Where were you yesterday?” You questioned, watching the blush rise on her cheeks. “Is that what Topper is getting all heated over?” 

“It-it’s nothing, honestly.” Your best friend sighed, taking another drink causing you to roll your eyes.

“Keep that one, I’ll get another.” You said, defeated as she finished the drink. 

Sarah swayed to the music, walking towards the dance floor before turning back to you. “My brother was looking for you by the way.” Your ears perked up at that, following her and popping along to the music. “You didn’t tell me he asked to take you tonight.” 

“What? He told you?” 

“He did, surprisingly.” Sarah hummed, taking your hands in hers and spinning you around playfully. “Why didn’t you accept?” 

“Tell me where you were yesterday.” You played, raising an eyebrow of curiosity in her direction. Her smile faltered and she narrowed her stare at you before giving up, shaking her head. You laughed at her before bidding her goodbye to find a replacement drink. 

You sauntered through the party, smiling at other guests but you didn’t stop to have any meaningless conversation. You found yourself walking inside, finding somewhere a bit more quieter. Hearing the commotion outside, you relaxed on a plush that was situated outside the restrooms. You closed your eyes, relaxing your tense shoulders. “Someone had a bit much to drink already.” 

The sound of his voice caused a smile to automatically appear on your face before you even opened your eyes, and when you did, you were blessed with the sight of him in a tight fitting baby blue suit, like he said. His bow tie was crooked, and there was a line of sweat on his forehead, you didn’t even want to know what he had gotten himself into at this point. You were used to Rafe and his ability to get into a fight with anyone and anything, after knowing him for so many years you just accepted it. 

“N’really,” you smirked, standing up on your heels, watching Rafe’s eyes dance along your body. It brought a sense of confidence out in you, the way his eyes did a second look then a third, before his tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip in anticipation. “I was too busy looking for you.”

“Yeah, me?” Rafe smirked,raising his brow and taking a step closer to you. “You wouldn’t even wait for me to walk in together.” 

“That’s what couples do, we’re not a couple.” 

Rafe closed the neverending gap between your bodies, his fingers brushing your bare shoulder and he slowly dragged his fingertips across your collarbone and up to your jaw. He watched you bite your bottom lip, his cock twitching at the sight of you there. “But we’re real good together.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours, his breath fawning across your face. “Plus, I love those heels.” He hummed, noticing the baby blue latch keeping them on your feet. “Very couple like.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, letting him seduce your body with just his lips and fingers. You hated how you gave into him so easily, but he had you trapped under this spell that you weren’t sure you ever wanted to escape from. Your mind wandered to the previous night that you shared together, your stomach erupting in butterflies that were reproducing rapidly. “Fuck me,” You whispered, opening your eyes and seeing the smug look on his face. 

“Here?” He asked, glancing around the empty corridor. 

Nodding eagerly, you eventually closed the aching gap, crashing your lips against his. He didn’t miss a beat, his hand cupping your jaw and moving his lips along with yours. It was intense, eager and sexually fueled. Rafe hoisted you up on his hips, groaning when your legs wrapped around his waist and he began walking in the direction men’s bathroom. He pulled away from you, placing you on the sink counter. You scanned the room, noting no one was here and Rafe immediately locked the entrance before connecting your lips together again.

Your hands fleeted through his gelled hair, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of it and pulling him closer. His own hands bunched your dress up at your hips, knowing this is going to have to be quick but he was going to enjoy every minute of it. You kissed down his jaw, your lips finding their way to his neck as you nibbled and sucked on one spot causing his moan to echo around the restroom. Your hands started to fiddle with his belt buckle, longing to release some of the built up energy. 

You dropped his slacks to the floor, lifting yourself up slightly to allow Rafe to pull your panties down to your ankles. Rafe whimpered when your hand pulled his already hard cock out of his boxers, pumping your hand up and down his length. You ran your finger over the tip, smudging the pre-cum he released. “Ugh, fuck.” He breathed out, pulling back from you to place his lips against yours. He hoisted you closer to him, having you at the edge of the counter and he lined himself up at your glistening core. 

“I don’t have a condom,” Rafe mumbled against your lips.

“It’s okay.” 

“You sure?” He asked, pulling back and looking you in the eye. The eye contact was intense, as if there was an unspoken bond between you. It made you gulp back a lump forming in your throat, and you only nodded, not trusting your voice. Rafe crashed his lips to yours again, and you gasped as you felt him enter you. As the shock dispersed, you moaned in pleasure, your head falling back. You left hand gripped the edge of the counter, your right hand slowly finding its way to Rafe’s shoulder. 

He thrusted in and out of you at a painfully slow pace, watching your chest rise and fall. “Oh, my god, Rafe, fuck me like last time.” You breathed out, the smirk grew on his face as his pace got faster, each thrust became harder and you were riding on cloud nine again. You were losing yourself in the moment; your heavy breaths, Rafe’s moaning, and your bodies smashing together were the sounds bouncing off the restroom’s walls. 

“Oh, shit, babygirl,” Rafe groaned, his thrusts becoming messy as he rested his forehead on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around his body, bringing him closer. Your legs circled around his waist and he hoisted you up off the counter, shuffling along the floor to fuck you up against the wall. 

The sound of the door attempting to open caused Rafe to stop mid thrust, pulling away from you and eying the door. His eyes were ride, amusement swirling in his orbs as he placed a finger on your lips for you to be quiet. You tried to muffle the giggles that were threatening to escape, causing your stomach to tremble. You heard muffled voices outside the door, but Rafe turned his attention back solemnly to you, his thrusts starting up again. 

“Rafe-” You gasped, but he just placed his lips onto yours again, finding the perfect rhythm to bring you to your climax. The thought of someone walking in on you and catching you here with the Kook Prince excited you, allowing you to release even faster than the previous night. Your moans echoed, and you watched Rafe fuck you fast, his eyes were a deep blue now, the lust filling them. 

“You’re such a good girl cumming on me, baby.” He hummed, bringing his face closer to you and hiding his face again. 

“Nu-uh,” You protested, reaching for his throat and pulling him back so you could watch him cum inside you. 

“You like that, baby?” Rafe mumbled, making you nod. You wrapped your fingers around his throat, watching his eyes screwed shut as you tighten your grasp. His pace picked up, he held you close and smashed himself into you, your body banging against the wall. He groaned loudly, opening his eyes to connect with yours, his mouth gaping slightly. You could feel the twitching of his cock inside you, and he exhaled. The sweat was beading on his forehead, but he still looked as handsome as ever. 

Rafe let out down gentle, pulling his boxers and slacks up before going to get some toilet paper to let you clean yourself. He turned his back towards you, giving you an ounce of privacy and you bit your lip, not expecting such a gesture. “Thank you,” You mumbled, your voice soft and fragile. He hummed in response, and you told him he could turn around once you were happy with your appearance. 

You were shocked when he walked back over to you, brushing some of your hair out of your face and placing a soft kiss on your lips. You smiled up at him, reaching to fix his bow tie and patting his shoulders gently. “All good now.” 

He reached down to grasp your hand, pulling you behind him as he unlocked the door and scoped out the corridor before deeming it to be safe. Rafe looked over his shoulder, smirking at you and you let out a chuckle, shaking your head. When you returned to the party, the music was still playing and the dance floor was crowded with guests. Rafe handed you a glass of wine, grabbing one for himself and clicked your glasses together. 

“You ready to get shitfaced?” 

I’m just a sucker for my Rafe rn, honestly!

these are also literally just my fantasies oops

[heavenunderthemoon]

GROWING PAINS- Spencer Reid {CHAPTER 3}

prologue, chapter one, chapter two

DECEMBER 2011

Derek rolled his eyes, slinging an arm around your shoulder roughly, his cheeks rosy with an alcoholic glow. The pint of beer in his hand sloshed dangerously, threatening to tip over the side until you righted him, shaking your head at the man's actions.

"Oh come on, not one anecdote of your childhood with our resident genius? I need to know what the kid was like, I mean, did he wear sweater vests as an eight year old? Did he always talk as fast as he does now? How did you two even meet?"

Your eyes rolled playfully.

"Please, Y/N, we've been dying to know what our Boy Wonder was like as a kid." Penelope took another long pull of her drink- probably too long of a pull given the amount that she had already had. Everyone had been drinking that night, which made sense provided that the team was at a bar. The case had ended fairly quickly, the unsub playing right into the waiting hand of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and it had sent you all home within a couple of days.

Penelope had been the one to suggest a bar. Her waiting figure had been posted at the elevator doors, a rather pointed look thrown in your direction, one that screamed 'You can't get out of this even if you tried', and you had looked to Spencer almost immediately. You had noticed yourself doing that these past couple of months because, even with all of the history weighing the two of you down, pulling you like sinking stones to the bottom of the murky, muddy water, the two of you hadn't said much to each other at all. In fact, you could probably count the number of interactions since that first day on one hand.

That first day.

You poked at the olive at the bottom of your brink ruefully, popping it into your mouth, relishing in the remnants of the vodka lying on the glass.

OCTOBER 2011

"Are you just gonna stare at me from behind that fridge door or are you gonna say whatever it is you're thinking in that big brain of yours?"

The coffee in your mug warmed your hand, which worked well for you. Your body was still attempting to find itself accustomed to the dreary weather surrounding Quantico, and you would be damned if you were to say you were entirely de-thawed from that morning's walk in the gloom.

The scent of the stale coffee sloshing around in the navy blue mug was enough to make you want to toss it into the trashcan all together, but you knew good and well enough that you would force yourself to drink it all the same. The coffee you had that morning was wonderful, good enough to make you long for it as you gazed into the mass-produced black coffee from a Mr. Coffee machine that looked like it had seen better days.

Spencer Reid righted himself from where he was previously crouched in a position in which he thought to be rather stealthy.

He had been waiting all morning for the perfect opportunity, waiting an agonizingly long time, sitting through dozens of handshakes, introductions, desk tours, all of which he had stayed painfully silent through. The team had watched as your initial greeting had made Spencer's face pale, how your eyebrows had scrunched at the lack of response from the Reid man, how the two of you seemed to skirt around each other- well, that wasn't entirely fair. You weren't doing the skirting. It was Spencer.

Spencer was the one who was avoiding you like the plague.

And, you had noticed, of course. Just like you had noticed how his eyes had followed you as you stood from your newly claimed desk, empty of any personal markers, void of any personal belongings, and made your way into the break room for what he knew was your second cup of coffee that day. He had seen you grab that first one, he knew that now.

As if you were a magnet, Spencer had found himself standing, his feet directing him toward you as if he had no control over it. No control at all, and it suddenly felt like he was no longer in the FBI building. He was no longer wearing his converse, sweater vest, and FBI badge that sat proudly on his chest. No longer did he feel as though he were 29 year old man, 6 feet tall, 2 inches. No. No, now, he felt as though he were that tiny little child who still hadn't hit their growth spurt. That small child whose best friend was taller than him, a fact he found a bit embarrassing because she was a girl and just about every book he read portrayed men as the tall, strong protectors and he was dutifully failing that role and his best friend seemed to have no trouble picking up the slack.

He felt as though that tiny little child had replaced him in just that instant, reverting back to the small boy who would've followed you anywhere without question, without hesitation, because he trusted you that much.

All those moments of trust, the moments of dancing in basements, or you encouraging him to jump off a high tree branch, or even showing him how to do a neat trick on his bicycle (he had fallen quite badly after that one, but he hadn't even let you apologize because the problem did not lie in your teaching methods, it simply laid in his inability to do anything remotely active). It all came rushing back to him, echoes falling upon his ears as he attempted tp act casual, hiding behind that fridge door and pretending to inspect the contents. Well, that is, until you had spoken.

His lips pursed, eyes flickering up to peak over the top of the fridge and peer at you. His fingers twitched, closing the door and reluctantly rising from his hindsightedly awkward crouched position. Your eyes fell to his fingers, lips almost quirking at the corners when you noticed they still did that thing.

That thing they had done almost since the day you had met him. That thing where they moved, like re-wiring a bomb, or turning the pages of a book only he could see. The things where they danced upon the moth air, catching your attention and letting you know that his nerves were at an all time high. When you were children, it acted up whenever the boy was uncomfortable, spiking when the two were surrounded by bullies, or when he had to go home early (he didn't quite enjoy being home all too much back then). The memory of the Reid's slender fingers dancing that same dance almost made hers begin her own. Her hand twitched, as if to reach out and grab as she did so many years ago, as she had always done. Her hand longed to reach out and grab his in her own and give him that smile- knowing and reassuring, letting him know that she was there, that he was safe, and that he had no reason at all to be nervous.

But she didn't. Her hand remained at her side, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets just as soon, rocking on his heels awkwardly.

It was quiet for a moment, only the hum of the newly purchased refrigerator to fill the abyss blanketing the two agents. The old one had given up almost three weeks ago. Spencer could still remember the smell it had reeked when the team had discovered just how broken it was. Penelope had told them when they had gotten back from a case, ranting about how her milk had gone bad, cheese going rotten and they hadn't quite believed her. "Are you sure it's plugged in?" Rossi had asked teasingly to which the blonde had scowled and turned on her heel, Derek nipping at her stilettos.

They had soon discovered that the tech analyst was, in fact, correct, the smell putrid and intense  enough to make the Reid man's eyes sting when he opened the fridge. Hotch had to make room in the budget but he had chosen almost an exact replica of the old fridge. The only difference was that this one was new.

"I never thought I'd see you again." You broke the silence. It was true. Because you couldn't quite remember the last time you had thought about him. Those months after he had left he had been all that you had thought about. Your best friend. Spencer. Your Spencer. And he had just...left. Just as you had always known he would, so you couldn't even particularly act surprised about it, but you could act 'mopey' as your father had called it with a grumble.

He was all you had thought about because best friends don't just stop being friends just because one moves away, they stop being friends because eventually someone loses interest in the other and right now you couldn't quite remember if that had been you or him.

Spencer's lips screwed up into that uncomfortable smile that he had done as a kid and now looked even sillier on his fully-grown and matured face. "Me either."

It was hard enough for him to get that sentence out and it was two words. Two words and three syllables and it was enough to make him dizzy because he just felt so...bare. He felt vulnerable and insecure and slightly embarrassed because here, in this building, in the Behavioral Analysis Unit he was.. well, he was Spencer Reid. He was boy genius, the kid who was a child prodigy, could read at incredible speeds, had multiple PhD's, and seemingly knew everything about anything. He was a superhero. Okay, maybe not a superhero, but at least in this building he could imagine that some people actually thought of him that way.

They admired him for his intelligence and they didn't see him as that dorky kid from Nevada with a schizophrenic mom who sometimes forgot to feed him. And now, you did. You, who had played cops and robbers with him in his backyard or returned books back to him with the pages dog eared that always drove him nuts, or picked out peanuts from your ice cream because you hated them. You would see him that way. As the way that he had tried so incredibly hard to bury, and Spencer felt his throat close up at the notion.

"Did you follow me here?" It wasn't what he meant to say. It wasn't what he wanted to say at all. He wanted to ask where she had been. What she had done, who she had met. He wanted to know it all but what had come out was a snarky remark that implied the girl had nothing better to do with her time than follow around a boy she had met so many years ago and while he was hopeful she wouldn't take it as such he saw that familiar twitch of her brow and narrow of her eyes as she let out a scoff.

"Funnily enough, they recruited me, are you sure you didn't stalk me and send in that paperwork yourself?" Your words were light, light enough that any passerby might have thought the two were joking around but he knew you. He knew that the fierceness in your tone was a warning, an indication to your ever-growing temper that always had a tendency to flare up at both the worst and best moments was in the process of rising.

Spencer's eyes widened. "I didn't, I wouldn't- I haven't thought about you in decades, actually-" Your lips pursed and the Reid man's hands flew form their place of rest in his pants pockets and began to fly in the air around him as he tried to fix his mistake but he had never been quite as skilled as you with the whole social interaction side of friendship and very quickly the man felt himself making things worse. "That's not what I meant. Look, I just find it a bit strange that you're here-"

The coffee stirrer in your hands halted in their movement as you pulled it from the light brown pool of liquid sitting in your mug. Your fingers flicked it into the trashcan, nodding stiffly. "Well then." Your hand tipped your glass to the man who was trying entirely too hard to conceal the panic racing through his mind. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. JJ offered to give me a tour of the place, I think I'll take her up on that-"

"Y/N-" he hadn't moved form his spot, despite his brain yelling at his feet to move. Spencer could've been glued to the floor for all he knew but what he did know was that he simply was not budging. You turned with a confused look on your face, one that made his stomach churn because his behavior had caused it.

"It's fine, Spencer, we were friends as kids, doesn't mean we have to be now." His mouth opened, lips parting to say something, anything to keep you from walking into the bullpen, unaware of his internal conflict to you bring in the building rather than just thinking he was the world's biggest jerk, but nothing came out and your hand waved in the air passively. "It's okay, Spencer, seriously."

And with that, you had left.

-

DECEMBER 2011

The team stared at you expectantly, awaiting the answer to Penelope's inquiry and you threw a glance over your shoulder, landing on the genius to your left. You had all chosen a booth to sit at, close enough to the bar to retrieve drinks and far enough away to avoid the issue of crowds. The Reid man was pressed against the wall side of the booth, eyes glued to his drink of choice- a water, as far as you could tell but you didn't question it (Had you questioned any of his decisions in the last couple of months? No, that would have required talking.)

Your hand dropped the olive skewer softly, easily placing a faux smile that hurt your lips to create, eyes on the child prodigy shrinking his body so far into himself you thought he might collapse entirely.

"He was a good friend."

Penelope rolled her eyes, Emily booing as Derek through a pretzel that landed squarely in your curls. Hotch and Rossi watched in interest, JJ giggling at the teams antics but you weren't watching them.

You were watching him.

The stiffness that had taken over his posture, the stillness in his breaths.

"A good friend? That's it? Oh come on, sweetheart, we're gonna need a bit more than that, give it to us." The Morgan's eyebrows danced upon his forehead in a way that made you laugh, your eyes closing for the briefest of moments. But the moment was fleeting enough to let Spencer look at you, eyes flitting from the condensation on his water glass he had been concentrated on for the better half of the night to you. Your head tilted back, neck exposed as you chuckled. Your eyes were closed, just that happy grin consuming your features and he could imagine that he had been the one to cause it, just as he had done so before all those years ago reading the back of popsicle sticks and Laffy Taffy wrappers in funny voices because he knew that it made you laugh no matter what. He could imagine that he hadn't screwed up all those months ago, that he had pestered you with the questions that had stormed his mind that day and continued to flood him everyday since and that he was sitting next to you as he should be now. That the two of you were... the two of you once more. As you should have been. As it always should have been.

But then the moment was over and your eyes were opening to find Spencer staring at his glass once more.

"I don't think I will." Your smile drained at the sight the man and you deflated slightly, letting out a puff of air before holding up the empty glass, focusing your eyes back onto the Morgan. "But I will grab us all another round."

The chorus of boo's followed you like a billowy cloak wrapped around your shoulders and you turned on your heel without a second thought, heading to the bar for another drink.

TAGLIST- message me to be tagged:)

@fangurl215 @lauren2408 @moonstarrnghtsky @uwu-sebastianstan

[taperwolf]

My home electronics workshop is no such thing; every time I need to solder something I have to get the soldering iron out and set up a workstation on top of the kitchen stove. (Because the range hood will ventilate rosin smoke, and I won't set off the smoke alarm.) Because all this is kind of a hassle, when I do get things set up, I tend to want to do multiple soldering projects at once.

So when one of the pots on my Glitch Storm broke, and I set up everything to replace it, I also went ahead and built another unpowered Eurorack module.

Again, same panel as the others; this one is a passive mixer. If you want to take one signal and send it to multiple places, you can do that with just wires; taking multiple signals and putting them all together into the same place requires components. Specifically, for this mixer, six 10kΩ resistors. By putting a resistor on each signal before connecting them together, you balance the load out and allow the signals to average out.

(A powered mixer would follow the resistors with an amplifier, changing the circuit from an averaging mixer to a summing mixer — the output would be all the voltages added together, instead of evened out — and keeping the passive components from decreasing the amplitude of the signals.)

You may notice that four of the resistors are plain black cylinders instead of the blue-with-colored-stripes of the other two. Striped resistors are more common, but I had four of the black ones from a surplus component grab bag I got a while back, so I figured I'd use them.

Just like the passive multiple was, the jacks on this one are normalled such that if you connect only one output (inverse printed) jack, that output is the mix of all six input jacks; if both are connected to, then each has a mix of the three jacks connected to it.

[bennybentacles]

Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven

00.04 the seance

0.004, the sèance, my brother klaus. ever since the sèance was a child, he is very rumbustious. he spent his childhood with seemingly one goal, and that is to ruin our lives. he spent days and nights screaming in his room, loudly thumping on the thin wall separating his room and mine. he sleeps in the bedroom next to mine and it is a normal occurence for me to wake up because he is causing a racket in the middle of the night.

the sèance is also a flamboyant child. ever since we were younger he broke gender norms, he is often sporting the rumour and my own clothes. he started painting his nails when the rumour started doing hers, and when the rumour tried makeup, the sèance was never seen without kohl lining his eyes. our father never minded how the sèance is dressing up himself, i guess he is never against it but my father hated the sèance's attitude

our father tried reprimanding the sèance on multiple occasions. he reprimanded the sèance in front of everybody, throwing harsh words but our brother just spat them back to our father. on other occasions our father pulled the sèance our of our sight and we can only wonder what our father did to reprimand him on those times. sometimes that method works for a few days before the sèance will wreck havoc once more, outdoing himself everytime.

the sèance is very vocal on how he despises his powers in and out of our house. he has stated in multiple interviews that he gave as a child on how he wishes to lose his powers, seemingly not knowing that he hurts me in the process. if i can take his powers for a day so that he would know how awful it is to be powerless in this house i would've done it. but alas, i cannot and i had to listen to him whine about his gifts from the day he had them until the day he ran away.

when the sèance reached ten, he started stealing alcohol from our fathers liquor cabinet. our father has beaten him black and blue when he has found out what the sèance is doing but my brother only laughed at the duration of my fathers beating. that night, i know he still snuck out to drink our fathers liquor. when he started drinking, i started sleeping through the night. i guess the liquor knocked him out everytime that he didn't have the time to cause his nightly commotion and i could sleep the night away.

when the sèance was eleven he started broadening his choices. gone were the night when i can only smell liquor from him, he has started smoking too. i had to breath in the smoke he pushes out of his lungs because my room is closest to his. my clothes started smelling like cigarettes too as if i also started smoking. i didn't hate the cigarettes as much as i hate the alcohol. i guess the sèance was the reason why i also started smoking cigarette at fifteen after i saw his left over cigarette laying around the house and tried it.

the sèance broke his jaw when he was twelve after he fell from the top of the stairs while he was wearing our mothers heels. those eight weeks when his jaw was wired shut were the most peaceful weeks of the academy. he was still jittery on those weeks, still took the center of the attention despite not being able to talk. he was on hard painkillers at that time, his eyes always droopy and gaze never staying still. maybe thats when he started getting addicted to drugs.

by the time that the sèance was thirteen he was rolling joints under the table. i know that he shares his drugs with the horror, both of them always out of their minds at night time. unlike the horror who never got too high that he couldn't function, the sèance spent his days high out of his mind. it seems like he doesn't care about anything but his addiction anymore. he was even high the day the boy ran away

even though the sèance was always high, i know that when the horror died the sèance was sober for two weeks after our father flushed all his stashes into the drain. i remember that fateful day, the sèance screaming for help, him pushing our fathers ginormous vases and breaking them in the process because spaceboy wouldn't be able to take the horror into the medical wing otherwise. i remember the sèance not leaving the horror's side, i remember the sèance talking to the horror on that day where he was conscious. and i remember how the sèance screamed when the horror died, his haunting wails echoing throughout the mansion, forever etching in my memory.

the sèance never let us grieve the horror, spat out curses at anyone who tried to show their respect. he spent days drunk and high of his mind sleeping on top of the horror's grave. he wept everyday, his cries filling our ears, resulting in an eerie noise in the middle of the night. two weeks after the horror's death, the sèance ran away, not even seeing the horror's statue that replaced the grave that he had.

the sèance never listened to anybody, always off to do his own thing. he killed himself slowly, looking like a ghost as days passed by. it is a shame that he has this wonderful powers that he never used and its a shame that he turned out the way he did. the sèance was never a sèance and i don't think he ever plans on becoming who he is supposed to be

[introvertguide]

All the President’s Men (1976); AFI #77

The next review marks the halfway point through the AFI 100 and it is of the political “thriller,” All the President’s Men (1976). The source material was created by reporters involved in the uncovering of the Watergate scandal and one of these reporters contributed to the writing of the screenplay. The film was in theatres and earned Oscar nomination only 4 years after the Watergate incident occurred which made the film a Hollywood dramatization of the news. I am not aware of another film quite like this as far as release vs. incident dates that wasn’t a documentary. Even documentaries, although filmed during or immediately after events, do not often come out in theatres so soon. They definitely don’t get nominated for 8 academy awards like this film did. So what was behind this movie that made this a one-of-a-kind film that landed it on the list of the top 100 American movies? I want to go over the basic events, since that is the plot of the film, and then discuss the good and bad aspects of this quick production:

SPOILER WARNING!!! I AM GOING TO SPELL OUT ALL OF THE CONTENTS OF THE MOVIE!!! IT CAN BE BETTER SPOILED BY A HISTORY BOOK, BUT I WILL GET TO INACURACIES WHICH MIGHT RUIN THE FILM! SO SPOILER ALERT IF YOU WANT TO WATCH THE FILM FIRST!!!

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The film begins with a lot of stock news footage and then a reenactment of the break-in at the Watergate hotel in 1972. Five men who were connected to the CIA and the Committee to Re-Elect the President (nicknamed CREEP) were caught with wire tapping equipment in the Democratic Party headquarters at the hotel. More stock footage of news reports lets the audience know that there is something fishy about this break-in.

At the trial for the five burglars, a young Bob Woodward (Robert Redford), who is a reporter for the New York Post, notices that a high priced lawyer is representing the five and yet it has been stated earlier that none of the burglars had used their phone call. Woodward keeps finding this lawyer and attempts to question him about why he is there and how exactly the burglars are attached to the CIA. Through consistent pressure, Woodward is able to connect the burglars to CIA agent E. Howard Hunt and a member of the White House Counsel, Charles Colson.

Woodward attempts to take on the story but finds that another reporter keeps taking his submitted drafts and altering them in an attempt to take over the story. This reporter is Carl Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman), a much more seasoned reporter at the Post that believes he should get the story. The editor puts them both on the case noting a lack of reliable sources, but tells them to keep digging.

Here is where it gets a little weird because Woodward talks about a secret source that he cannot name that was a senior government official. He went by the codename “Deep Throat” and Woodward meets him in a parking garage in the middle of the night. The sources does not say anything specific nor does he give any names, but he famously tells Woodward to “follow the money” which means to find out who paid the burglars to break in. 

Through basically unreliable resources, Woodward and Bernstein are able to make connections between CREEP and the money that was paid to the burglars. This is weird because it seems pretty assured that Nixon would easily defeat his competition to secure re-election, so the editors at the newspaper have doubts about putting the story on the front page.

Woodward and Bernstein are able to contact the CREEP treasurer Hugh Sloan, Jr. and are able to connect a slush fund to White House Chief of Staff H.R. Haldeman and former Attorney General John Mitchell, the current head of CREEP. It is discovered that this wire tapping and sabotage had been happening since Nixon was trailing during the primaries. 

The editor demands thoroughness in obtaining reliable resources, so Woodward and Bernstein go around to employees of the the treasury for CREEP, and they are all young ladies that are afraid for their safety but are compelled to give up information to the reporters. I somewhat question the accuracy of the story at this stage of the film, but I will address that after the summary.

Woodward goes out and meets Deep Throat again and the source reveals that Haldeman was behind the Watergate break-in and cover-up. This cover up was not just to deny CREEP involvement, but to hide covert operations involving US intelligence agencies like the CIA and FBI. He warns Woodward that the two reporters could be in danger.

The Washington Post runs the story and the White House vehemently denies the allegations and chastises the press for shabby reporting. Woodward and Bernstein go and meet the editor in the middle of the night and decide to keep running with the story...and that is basically the end of the movie.

There is some footage of the two typing vigorously and then stock footage of the news reports and teletype printing out what happened in the news. It is not much of an ending, but this is likely because the story had not finished when the movie went into production. 

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So I have some major issues with this film and these problems have revealed themselves over multiple viewings. The first time that I saw this was in class as a senior in high school. I was in Mr. Sly’s Government and Economics class and we watched the movie over two class periods with many breaks for explanation and a lot of forwarding through the filler. At the time, the teacher was very excited at the topic (he hated Richard Nixon) and the movie was fascinating because he only showed and subsequently explained the good parts. Also, his enthusiasm for the topic was contagious. He was a very good teacher. 

The next viewing was a full 15 years later when going through the AFI list for the first time. I could not figure out what I liked so much about it and had to rewatch multiple parts because I kept falling asleep. There were no thrills and there was so much filler, I remember thinking that this should have been a 20 minute film and it would have been almost completely newsreel stock footage. 

This final time I can see what the problem is with the film...and I like it even less. The film is over 2 hours long and more than half of it is stock footage from the news, walking around quickly (there is some running in the newsroom for no reason), extended conversations due to fear of “somebody finding out” (the threat is never established as real so it is just annoying), a lot of parking lots (it shows the same car driving from the same parking spot out into the street on 3 separate occasions), intense research and typing, and establishing shots of buildings. It has as much filler as a B movie and costs about the same, but because it was so close to the event with big name actors, it was treated as something special. In fact, it is talked about like a documentary in many reviews that I read with words like “important” and “powerful” scattered about, but I don’t see it. 

Robert Redford bought the book rights because he knew it was an interesting topic that people would want to know about. He was correct, but it wasn’t enough fact to make a full movie, so he let one of the reporters, Carl Bernstein, punch up the screenplay with his stories of how he enchanted female story leads into giving out information. Those conversations are completely unnecessary.  At some point, the writers realized that there was no clear and present danger so they had the secret source bring up safety and Woodward becoming paranoid...but absolutely nothing happened. 

This movie needed to be a 30 minute documentary with some re-enactments or it needed to wait until more details became available to replace the filler. I respect that it was different from anything prior or since, but it doesn’t make the movie good or even interesting. It kind of broke me when the two main characters were going over a list of people that they needed to visit as possible leads and all they did was read names over a shot of the city. You might as well read out the phone book for 2 minutes as it was just as boring. 

The poster calls this the most devastating story of this century and I agree... devastatingly boring. No other film on the AFI list has less story than this film. Some of the other films have annoyed me more, but I could see why some people liked it or at least why it was interesting. This is not interesting and it is presented like a documentary when it is not. Variety magazine said this film was “ingenious” and overcame the difficult lack of drama that a story about reporters running down a story might otherwise have. Disagree vehemently. 

Roger Ebert gave it 3.5 stars, so critics I have the utmost respect for seem to have enjoyed it. I was not alive when the film came out and agree more with Dave Kehr who called the film “pedestrian” and “a study in missed opportunities.” For my money, National Geographic TV did a one hour special that was just the facts and it was so much more interesting. Here is a link to that and I would suggest skipping the Hollywood version.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWkS-sOia-Y

So does this film deserve to be on the AFI 100? Well...I guess maybe? It was something different and likely the most accurate and up to date Hollywood film like none before or since. It used real names and was written by the actual people involved. It just wasn’t that interesting to me. Would I recommend it? If you are suffering from insomnia. Otherwise, no. If you want to see an accurate retelling of the story in one third the time, click the link above. Let the Robert Redford film be an experiment that made for very uninteresting results.

[danetobelieve]

Gru Voice: Light Bulb! || Orion and Winston

Winston and Orion had actually been hanging out a little more then Winston had expected. Especially now that the sleepwalking thing was solved, Winston found themselves with way more time and energy to devote to the old Scribe headquarters and they were getting pretty good at knowing their way around in the dark. But today, as they walked down the corridors of the old musty building, Winston hoped that it was the last time that they would have to do this in the pitch black, or even with a torch. Today was the day they fixed the electricity. “So, I am like 85% sure the problem is the fuse box and I have all the things I need to fix it, then I think it is important that rather then immediately running power through the whole building, we give the fuse box a break -- who knows when it last handled any amount of voltage -- and we just hook the power up to the library and your sleeping room.” They touched the long spool of power cable which was hanging off of their left shoulder. That was where that came in. “Once we’re sure that the fusebox doesn’t need any major work then we can definitely look at hooking up the whole building. Sound good?” 

Orion was in a small state of disbelief. Winston had been at the Scribe headquarters multiple times since the night they had unintentionally wandered into the abandoned building. During the days, they would spend time in the library hanging out. But ever since the sun never rose, the Scribe Headquarters was practically uninhabitable. And that was saying something, considering the state that it had already been in. But Winston had offered to come and fix the electricity too. At this point Orion could only assume that the two could be considered… friends. Though with the help Winston was offering, Orion certainly needed to figure out a way to repay them, but wasn’t sure what he had to offer to Winston. “Just let me know what you need from me.” Orion smiled, not that Winston could really see. Both of their flashlights were angled forward as they made their way down the hallways and towards the room where the fuse box was. “I really can’t thank you enough. I really appreciate you offering to help with this.” 

Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston guided the beam of their flashlight so that it somewhat lit the way that they were going. They made their way down a set of rickety steps that led down into an old basement, or was it a cellar? They weren’t really sure what the technical term for the subterranean entry way that they found themselves in. “For the moment, I need you to try and give me as much light as possible so that I can see what I’m doing, but I will definitely need some help later on.” Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston laid down their tool box and flipped it open to reveal a very well ordered set of tools that they’d received from their parents when they were eighteen. “Hey dude, you took me in when I was sleepwalking and you gave me somewhere to sleep and to stay, so I don’t really think you need to say thank you. This is just my way of saying thank you for that night.” 

“Yeah. Of course. You got it.” Orion agreed with Winston. He would do whatever they told him needed to be done. Whatever it took to get this place up and running again. It still felt like a fever dream that in an hour or two this place could be lit up again. Maybe for the first time since the 80’s. It was it’s own small piece of history, that Orion may actually have a part of. He could help rebuild the Scribes, at least the White Crest chapter. And maybe… just maybe.. Winston would want a bigger part than just fixing the light. But that was still getting ahead of himself. For now, Rio focused on shining the light where Winston needed. “Oh.. well seriously that was nothing. Like I said, I don’t even own the place or anything. This is basically public property now. Besides the like magic entrance part.” He laughed nervously, the light shaking around the room with his laugh. “Oh sorry.” He calmed the laughter and focused the light again. “So uh… How long do you think this will take? Not that I’m rushing or anything. Just curious.” Although Orion did have to admit that the darkness was making him nervous despite him walking these same halls hundreds of times. Just the knowledge that the sun wasn’t going to rise in the morning made a difference.”

“Cool, I think we can manage this together.” Winston was convinced that they were going to be able to do a good job and really clean this place up. They knew that there were so many good things that they could do with this place and they knew that Orion wanted them to do it. It was a project that they could work on together and Winston really hoped that it would lead to them learning a whole host of new things. They were excited to learn everything that they could. They needed to learn more about the supernatural so that they could survive it and maybe one day they could help someone else and other people survive it. “Well, either way, you turned this place into somewhere that is really worth coming to and I want to help now, maybe we can make it our own place and this is just the first start.” Winston had to admit that the magical entrance was a big reason why they were convinced that there was now supernatural things and information that could be learned from this old, musty and somewhat decrepit building. “Well, hopefully it shouldn’t take us too long but if we have to replace a bunch of wiring and fuses then it might take more then tonight, but I guess it is time that we find out what we can do with this place first, y’know.” They kept working, occasionally asking Orion for a hand. “How did you work out how to get past the magic thing?” Winston asked, hoping that they could come up with a more feasible excuse for themselves other then, I used magic.

Despite Orion’s own fears, he had to believe that Winston was right. They could manage this together. It was an easy enough start. Couldn’t rebuild the Scribes without lights. If Winston could get this first step initiated than that could lead to all of the other changes that Orion had envisioned. He had never expected any of them to come to fruition though. “I- Well thank you.” Orion wasn’t great at taking compliments, especially from people he liked. Winston truly thought that this place was worth coming to. Despite the lack of electricity and the fact that Orion didn’t have much to offer besides old mattresses and junk food. It was… surprising. Orion wasn’t used to companionship just for the sake of friendship. He was used to ulterior motives or forced interactions. “Right, yeah of course. Well… finger’s crossed that this thing works on the first try. But if not that’s fine.” Orion watched, fascinated by Winston as they worked. Orion had always enjoyed learning about other people’s passions but watching it in action was something else entirely. Orion got to see that passion in action and liked see them so focused on the task at hand. He got caught up in the moment and barely registered Winston’s question, waiting for a few moments too long before finally realizing what had been asked. “Oh- Sorry I wasn’t focused. Uh, I didn’t, if I’m being honest. My uncle used to be a scribe here once upon a time. He showed me how to get in when I was a kid.” Since then, a few people had gotten into the building, but not many by Orion’s choice. The only person he had invited into the barrier was Kaden but just to grab him some information on demon’s. “You’re actually the first person I’ve actually shown how to get into the building. Since my uncle showed me, I mean.” 

Winston was not thinking quite as big as Orion was. At the moment they just wanted to have a place to study the resources that had been made available to them at that moment. Either way, if this was where Orion was spending the majority of their time (as Winston suspected it was) then they were going to do everything that they could to make this a bit more habitable and getting the power back on was a good start with that. “If we can actually get the power working, maybe we can look at getting some solar panels to keep this stuff going.” Raising an eyebrow, Winston pulled a head torch from their bag and attached it to their forehead as they gazed at the fuses and kept working. “It probably, almost certainly won’t work for the first time, maybe not even the second or the third, but I guess there is still plenty of time to find out which it will be…” they took a deep breath before pulling a few wires out of the fusebox, looping them over one another and rewiring a few more selections of the fusebox. Placing the screwdriver in their mouth, they did their best to talk around it. “Yourf funcle washn’tf …” they looked around, “Ufh … fupermaturally inflined? If you knowr wharft I mrean...” 

“Solar panels…” Orion hadn’t thought about that before. It would be the most efficient way to keep that place running. The main issue would be the cost. If only he could hunt down an older Scribe. The thing about them, at least from what his uncle had told him, was that a lot of them came from old Scribe families and old money. The type of people that can afford to build their own private archives in their homes. The type of people that maybe, just maybe, would fund solar paneling and remodeling for a young scholar trying to rebuild the Scribes. Orion just needed to figure out how to find that. “That’s a great idea! I’ll do some research on that.” When Winston broke the news that it most likely wouldn’t work on the first try, Orion could only shrug. “No worries. We’ll get it eventually. Well.. you will get it actually. But I’m here in spirit.” It didn’t bother him, not much. If nothing worked Orion may be slightly disappointed, but at least Winston was willing to try. It took a minute for Orion to decipher their next question, but began laughing nervously once he did. “Oh my uncle? He uh- well no. Not really. He was a human.” Orion wasn’t sure how to answer. Winston had made that first step, asking about the supernatural that both had seemingly assumed the other knew. Still, even with the knowledge finally about to come out, Orion couldn’t tell Winston that his uncle was a hunter. Winston would put to and two together and realize that Orion himself was a hunter. A monster. At least Orion wasn’t exactly lying. His uncle was a human. “He just studied the supernatural. That’s what the Scribes did.”

“Obviously the real problem is having the money to purchase the solar panels, and with all the darkness being a thing they wouldn’t work, so we’d have to invest in generators or something, but in some places if you’re careful you can actually sell electricity back to the power companies.” Winston had done a lot of reading about carbon neutral homes when preparing to do this, trying to put in the greenest installation that they possibly could. “Your moral support is invaluable,” Winston replied as they slotted another fuse into place and began to finish wiring in the main cables, running them to the breaker and making sure that everything was in place, “besides we’re nearly ready, everything is set up on my end so all you’ve got to do is flick the breaker, don’t get too excited, it isn’t like all the lights are going to come back on, just that one over here.” Winston stepped forward and pointed out one of the lights before screwing a new bulb into it. “If that works we can try hooking everything else up and make sure that it is all safe before running power to the library and then go from there. But for now, will you do the honours?” 

“Yeah. True. But.. well I’ll cross that bridge when I get there I guess.” Thinking too much on it now would just send Orion spiraling into a panic attack. For all the planning Orion wanted to do, it was all too grandeur for him to take on right now. So he needed to calm down and take it one step at a time. For a moment, Orion closed his eyes and silently practiced some breathing techniques. He didn’t want to worry Winston by making any noise. But Winston’s words of encouragement helped ground him back to reality. This was the moment of truth. Rio went over to the switch, his hands practically shaking. A nervous mixture of excitement and fear. “This feels so weird. Never thought I’d do this.” He pressed his finger to the button and as gently and feebly as he could manage, flipped it over. His eyes closed on reflex, and for a moment stayed in darkness, but he slowly opened one eye to find that aside from the lights that Rio and Winston had on, another light in the corner had flicked on. “Holy…” Orion trailed off, the disbelief apparent in his voice. Finally, he found the ability to speak again. “Holy crap. It worked. You’re a miracle worker!” Orion jumped up and down excitedly, a grin illuminating at his face as he turned to look at Winston, “You did it!”

“Exactly, besides this darkness stuff won’t last forever, you know that nothing like this ever does.” Winston was perhaps just a little more concerned by what could possibly replace the darkness. It seemed like with each new development something new went wrong and somehow it was almost always worse then the one before. But they were trying to be more positive and that attitude wouldn’t help anyone. As Winston watched Orion flip the switch, they were pleased that it had worked. Nodding for them to flip it off again, Winston set about on the next stage of the plan. Hooking up the relevant rooms to the fusebox, they knew that this would take them a while in total. To get the building up and running to a decent standard. But for now they only needed to cover two rooms if they could get that down then they were sure that the rest wouldn’t be too difficult. “Hell yeah dude, we did it.” They grinned gently and clapped Orion on the shoulder. “Now I really need your help, can you start running these wires into the library and the sleeping room and we can set everything up, we’ll properly wire everything in later but for this part it doesn’t matter all that much if it doesn’t work out. But for now let’s keep going.”

Orion stared at light in amazement. It was amazing that something so dull and monotonous could hold such wonder. He had been staring at those dusty, unlit bulbs for months now. And now they were finally lit up. How ironic, that it would come when the literal sun wasn’t rising. “We did. We really did. Er- well you really did it. I held a flashlight.” And poorly, if Rio was being honest. He had been so caught up on his own things that he hadn’t been paying much attention. The light had been shaky, had moved off its target once or twice. He didn’t have much experience with manual labor, clearly. If this could even be considered that. “Right of course. I can do that.” He grinned back, leaping up and ready to do whatever Winston needed from him. “Got it- Like uh- You want me to physically take the wires into the library and sleeping room? Or uh- like from here?” He asked nervously, embarrassed that he had no idea what Winston was talking about. 

“You’re so hard on yourself,” Winston replied dismissively, “this was a team effort and if you can’t see that then you might need to adjust your perspective. Besides, holding the flashlight was the hardest job.” They giggled a little at their own joke. They were in this together. Sure Winston had done all the hard work now, but Orion had already made a lot of progress making this place habitable. They had prioritised things similarly to Winston and they just generally needed to try and be a bit more positive with themselves. Grinning at the fact that they had given what was the most vague instructions they possibly could, Winston raised an eyebrow and adjusted their glasses. “You make a good point, I should probably just come with you, I just need to finish this and I’ll be done in here anyway.” They fiddled with the fusebox before closing it up again. “Come on, lead the way back to the library and we can see if we can actually read the books without having to squint too much.” 

“Sorry-sorry” Orion sighed. He knew what Winston was saying. It was hard to break the habit. He was only as hard on himself as his family had been. Or maybe he had been ever harder than his family had been. “Working on taking compliments.” Maybe Evelyn was right, he did need practice. But Winston was nice and patient, which made for a good combination considering how frustrating it must be to hear Orion constantly berate himself. At least he imagined it must be frustrating. “Teamwork makes the dreamwork!” Orion gave Winston a thumbs up as they closed up the fuse box and got ready to head towards the library. Orion was happy to lead, in fact it was probably one of the happiest times that he walked down the dark, creepy hallway of the Scribe building. He was hopeful, something that he didn’t feel incredibly often. “So I guess it’s probably pretty obvious, but the Scribes did more than just take care of a library.” Orion admitted as the two turned a corner, “They were supernatural records keepers. It was their job to keep history on all the weird happenings around the world. Well, before they stopped obviously.” Winston had taken that first step. Asking about Rio’s uncle. The supernatural facts were out there so might as well put Rio’s cards on the table. Well, not all of his cards, but the Scribes for sure. Around one more corner and Orion opened up the door to the library, “Okay, let’s get started!”

“You’re all good dude,” Winston replied with a shrug, they knew how difficult it could be to get your confidence back and they weren’t about to push Orion too hard just when they were starting to become friends, “taking compliments is hard as fuck, so don’t sweat it. You just gotta desensitise yourself, to this stuff so I’ll just keep complimenting you until you’re bored of it.” Winston knew what it was like to be anxious and working alongside others, they were a very nervous person who was afraid of pretty much everything and in this world that wasn’t the best combination. “Aha!” Winston hooted with laughter, “exactly. Dreamwork does make teamwork.” Following after Orion, Winston made sure that the wire didn’t get tangled as it was spooled out and carefully kept it to one side so that they wouldn’t trip over it later on. They listened intently to Orion’s explanation. They had been CERTAIN that there HAD to be an organisation that was dedicated to keeping some sort of order to this thing. “So they were kind of keeping an eye on everything?” Winston was curious, they seemed to have a good chunk of influence so what the hell had happened? “Where are they now? What happened?” Raising an eyebrow as they entered the library. Winston pulled the chord after them and started getting to work. “Cool, so all of the lights are going to run through here, we just gotta set everything up and then test the lights to see which ones explode when we turn them on.” They were only slightly joking unfortunately.

“Between you and this really nice rich woman on Harris Island, you’re both going to compliment me to death.” Orion laughed, glancing back at Winston and smiling to let them know that despite the awkwardness, Orion did appreciate them and the compliments they shared. Orion may not be used to compliments or getting credit for many things, but with the friends he was finally starting to make, he would have to get used to it. Winston had questions about the Scribes, understandably, and Orion was happy to help however he was able to. Not that he was the leading expert on Scribes in this town, but considering nobody else had ever shown up at this place to reclaim it… he kinda was the leading expert on Scribes. “Exactly. They were… observing. That was what they did. They watched the world around them and recorded the weird things that they saw. So that it wasn’t lost.” He enjoyed that others seemed to be interested in learning about the Scribes as well “I don’t know what happened to this one specifically. Or why nobody has been back. But from what my uncle told me most of the chapters all over the world shut down. I don’t think it was like.. An overnight fall, but I have some theories.” He trailed off as Winston began working on the wiring and Orion thought about his theories. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not” Orion laughed nervously, “But uh it’s fine. If it does. I can get more lightbulbs.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Winston smiled. “Do you mean Evelyn?” they asked curiously, they’d run into each other and Winston was pretty sure they’d accidentally used magic in front of her. “Ok so they were academics of supernatural history then,” that made sense and Winston could immediately see the arguments for and against impartiality, “I guess that something must’ve happened that was really bad, but you know, I always love hearing a good conspiracy theory, even if they’re somewhat far fetched. But I don’t know anything about this and the more information I can gather on it the better you know. Maybe it’ll help in trying to get this place back to its former glory. “Unfortunately I’m only joking a little bit, I don’t know how old these bulbs are and how good condition they are in, it’s possible that the filament could just go as soon as we run any amount of current through them,” they stepped into the library and pointed at a large box, “but don’t worry, I’ve come prepared with fresh lightbulbs so that we can replace any that go.” They set to work, beginning to plug everything in and setting everything up. “Can you make sure these wires don’t get caught on anything?” they said, pointing to the trail leading out the door.

Orion looked at Winston curiously, “Uh yeah- you know her?” He shouldn’t have been surprised. Didn’t everyone in this town know each other? “Right, right. Small town. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore.” Orion had to admit this his theories were a little boring compared to the conspiracy theories that some had probably come up with. Orion knew what would drive him away from an organization like this if he had been a member. “It’s hard to theorize, honestly. Mostly because they just sorta… disappeared from town. But the scribe had always been about neutrality. Their job was strictly to observe and record. Scribes were supposed to be impartial to both sides and never be biased. I think that was hard for a lot of people. Plus, I’m sure some people just didn’t follow it- which must have led to some disagreements.” Orion shrugged again. He didn’t like theorizing without some sort of basis. The last thing he wanted was someone taking his words for fact. “I think there were issues long before it fell. And then something happened to some of the chapters around the world. Once a couple fell it wouldn’t be hard to picture the rest fading out with them. Clearly this place was never destroyed, which is good.” Did Winston just mention getting this place back to its former glory? So.. were they considering wanting to help too? More than just fixing the lights? Orion hoped so. “That’d be great. Well, electricity is a good start. To rebuild. I can use all the help from you that you’re willing to give.” Orion felt like he was on HGTV. Orion looked at the box of lights that Winston had already come prepared with and whistled, “Wow. You are way prepared. Nice.” He turned to look at the wires that Winston pointed out and jogged over, following the trail of wires. “You got it. Count on me.” 

“Not very well, we ran into each other on Harris Island and we were attacked by a flock of seagulls, it was weird.” Winston was sure that they weren’t the only one who had weird things like that happen to them, but despite that they weren’t exactly the type to really revel in it. “We both live on Harris Island, so I think it was inevitable really.” They listened carefully to Orion’s theories, they had to admit that it was difficult to know anything without having real information on it. Yet Orion’s theory made sense. “I get that, that makes a bunch of sense, plus if you’re being impartial then neither of the ‘sides’ will be happy about it, they both probably wanted something and there’s only so long that you can get away with not picking a side.” They had to admit that they were disappointed that all of this had happened. It would’ve been good to have an organisation that was dedicated to supernatural academia help them with their own magical development and learning, even if it was just providing them with resources. “So they just slowly fell apart …” that was really sad and Winston couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they had left a void that really needed to be filled. They really needed the Scribes so that they could learn more. They were desperate to learn as much as they possibly could. “You’re right though, we’ve still got this place and this place is great, look how much we can do to make this place better, we could really make something of this place dude.” Winston couldn’t help but be excited about the potential that they had here. “I was never a boyscout or anything, but I always felt like I should’ve been because I come prepared to everything.” 

That was weird, but hardly the weirdest thing that Orion had heard this week. Admittedly, being attacked by something as normal as seagulls was surprisingly mundane. He remembered Winston mentioning that they lived on Harris Island. It wasn’t that big of an island, which meant that Orion and Winston probably only lived a few minutes from each other. Evelyn too, he supposed. It really was a small town. “Exactly. From how my uncle described them, they were always doomed to fail. Like I said, they were stubborn. Time’s change and I don’t know if they were willing to change with it.” But now they could. New management meant that they could make their own rules. A new and better Scribe legacy. Still seemed far fetched to Orion, if he was being honest with himself. “I have a lot of ideas. For this place I mean. Once we get power back to it.” He just hoped he could see them through to fruition. Orion followed the cord down, making sure that it remained untangled and didn’t catch on anything. It was the least he could do. Orion laughed, a deeper laugh than he had done in quite a while at Winston’s joke. “Well, I was a boy scout and I promise you’re way more prepared than we ever were. Though to be fair, I was a really bad boy scout. Like really bad. I only lasted for like a year before my parents pulled me from it.” He had hated the boy scouts anyways, so it was a blessing in disguise when they forced him to leave. “How’s it going over there?” He yelled from a few yards away, switching back and forth from staring at the wiring and looking over in Winston’s direction.

“I knew that there had to be some organisation that was trying to do something, this Supernatural world is so chaotic and messy, no one seems to know what the hell is going on and everyone is kind of just hoping that they don’t die.” Winston was honestly somewhat concerned by the lack of serious consideration for morality that people appeared to display when talking about the Supernatural. After all, the fact that Hunters so willingly hunted innocent beings was beyond concerning for Winston. “Dude that is awesome, we can look at sorting them all out. Once we’ve got power we can look at really replacing some of the stuff in that sleeping room and cleaning everything out. I think if we focus on the kitchen, the library and the sleeping room then that would be best, once those three are kind of … better then you’ve at least got somewhere to sleep, somewhere to work and somewhere to eat …” they swallowed for a moment and frowned, “can I ask you a kind of personal question?” They paused for a moment and shuffled their feet before throwing themselves back into their work once more. “I’m pretty sure we’re all ready to test the lights,” Winston said as they finished the last circuit, “whenever you’re ready, give it a go.” Waiting for Orion to flip the switch gave them time to consider what they wanted to say. 

“It just makes me sad. That over 30 years has gone by where nobody was keeping track of anything. There could have been some weird, once in a lifetime events that happened that will just get… completely erased by history.” Orion answered, sadness apparent in his voice. As someone that studied and was passionate about history, he understood just how scary the idea of something being lost forever was. He couldn’t imagine all the incredible things from history that the world would never know about because the records didn’t survive or people decided not to document it. “I agree! I think the library of course is the number one priority. The sleeping room and kitchen aren’t as important but they would definitely be a bonus. Plus it’d be nice to have the space in case someone ever needed to crash here.” Just like Winston had that night. Orion wished the next time that happened he could offer a more hospitable place. He was afraid where Winston’s personal question was going. All this talk of a place to sleep and eat were implying things. “Sure, of course. Whatever you want to know.” Was he going to tell the truth? Or was Orion going to work around it again, like some sort of maze? One Winston confirmed that Orion could flip the switch, Rio happily skipped over to the outlook and put his hand on it. Moment of truth. Orio took a deep breath and flipped it on.

Nodding pensively, Winston sighed sadly. “You never know, that might not be entirely true, and there’s time for everything to come back around, even if we’ve missed a few things.” Swallowing gently, Winston wasn’t sure that they agreed. If Orion was spending as much time here as Winston suspected then it was important that it was at least habitable. “We can work it out as we go along,” Winston intended to fix this place up as much as they could. As the lights flickered on across the library, Winston was finally able to see the whole of the library and it truly looked spectacular. They had to admit that there was going to be a lot of time spent reading the books here, Winston could only imagine the information that they would be able to find on magic. Especially if they were lucky. “You said before that your family situation wasn’t the best, they’re religious or something and no offence dude but you’re always here, are you like staying here because of stuff with your family?” 

Orion nodded, happy that Winston was remaining hopeful on the situation. “Thanks. I hope you’re right.” Orion shrugged, it was hard to think about what could have been with the Scribes. He knew it was a waste of time anyways. He couldn’t go back and change anything. “Maybe there’s still a Scribe in town somewhere that kept an eye on things. Kept their own records on their own time. It would have to be a hard habit to kick, right?” If they could try to find them, maybe they could try to fill that hole. But at that exact moment, everything else stopped mattering. Because the lights were on. The lights were freaking on! “Holy crap.” Orion said, staring across the place in a wonder. “I can’t believe it all worked.” Orion hadn’t heard any glass shattering at least. Though the place was big enough it could have gone unnoticed. “Maybe it has something to do with the magic surrounding this place? Kept it preserved or something.” Orion had to admit they weren’t very familiar with magic, but it certainly seemed within the realm of possibility. Nothing quite killed the mood like talking about family though. “My family… wants something from me.” He began explaining, before realizing that he wasn’t explaining it well. “They want me to be something that I can’t be. There’s too much pressure in that house.. Too many lies and..” He trailed off. Exactly how much was too much? Orion had already crossed a line, telling Winston anything. If Athena knew she would be furious. Perfect life. Perfect family. That was the schtick. “My family wouldn’t approve of me doing this. And they wouldn’t let me do this. Which is why I’m here and not there. And why they can’t know about it. As far as they know I’m studying late at the library or staying with a friend or.. Something” He wasn’t sure they actually cared about the excuses Rio came up with. “Sorry- This is amazing. All of this is amazing.” He gestured at the library and the lights surrounding it, “I don’t want to ruin it or bring the mood down.”

“If you refuse to believe that things can be any better then there’s no chance they will be,” Winston replied with a shrug, it was a motto his brother had taught him as he campaigned for change within the school. Nothing had happened of course, but the motto had stuck with Winston. “Maybe, maybe there’s someone doing all of those things, but it doesn’t matter until we find them, so for now I’m going to focus on this and make sure it is as perfect as it can be.” They smiled and shrugged. “I don’t think we’re that lucky,” they said as a few lights began flickering, “but for now this is a start, we can clean everything up as we go along, this is going to be a work in progress for a while, but this was a big and very much needed step.” Winston slipped ontop of a desk near by, it was very dusty but they weren’t exactly paying attention to that as they listened to what Orion had to say. “It sounds like you just need to move out,” Winston said before shaking their head at Orion, “don’t apologise, it isn’t your faut when I am literally the one who asked the question, would you be able to move out if there was an opportunity that you could feasibly take?” Ricky was always saying how he wanted more people around the house. 

Orion nodded with Winston. Though the advice was right and Orion knew that it was a good motto to live by he found it hard to follow the teaching himself. Sometimes it all just felt hopeless. But he was trying to stay positive. And the new friendships helped. “Right. Focus on the present.” Orion agreed, shaking his head but still staring ahead at the lights. Sure, some of them were flickering. It wasn’t perfect. But it was a start. That’s all Rio could really ask for at this time. “Yeah of course. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Orion smiled towards Winston, giving them a thumbs up and finally moving away from the light switch so that he could rejoin Winston over by the tables. He climbed onto a table of his own and looked at Winston, “Yeah, I probably do.” Rio answered absent-mindedly. Of course he knew that Winston was right. He just wasn’t sure how easy that would be. Not with his family. “Probably? I mean legally I’m an adult. My parent’s probably wouldn’t care if I left.” He might actually be right about that, “But I don’t really have a job right now. Not a real one anyways. Or a place to go. So I’ve got to figure that stuff out before I actually consider moving out.” He shrugged. That’s what the had the Scribe headquarters for anyways.

“Learning to change what you can and learning to accept what you can’t is tough,” Winston agreed with a shrug, “something that I defo still struggle with, y’know?” They swallowed and looked around them, they had really made some progress and when some of those lights inevitably went -- they were pretty sure they had just heard a pop as one exploded -- then they would replace them. This was going to be a hefty project, but Winston couldn’t go anywhere now. Not when they knew how important White Crest really was. Not when they had so much still to learn about their magic. Winston chewed on their cheek for a moment before taking a plunge. Inviting someone that they barely knew to move in with them wasn’t exactly their standard move but they really liked Orion and they wanted to give them the out that they were worried that they might need. “Why don’t you just move in with me and my roommate Ricky?” they asked nonchalantly, “we’ve got the room for you, we actually have two free rooms that you could take and we’re always looking for another gaming partner. You’ll still be close to your parents and we can carpool over here. Then you don’t have to worry about them working out that you’re working on this place and you never know, getting some distance might improve things?” 

“Ditto” Orion laughed, “Obviously. It’s not my strong suit. So I’m uh- I’m working on it.” Orion heard the light. He could hear the building light up. The hissing of the light, as it became too much and finally the light shattering and glass falling onto the table and floor. It was up on the next level. Out here in the middle of nowhere, it made it easy for Orion’s hunter hearing to focus. Back in town there was always so much going on, so much noise. It drove him crazy until he finally taught himself out to filter it out. But filtering it out made it hard to focus it at all. Here? This was his safe place to let his senses have a little more freedom without repression. “It was up on the second floor.” He mentioned, absentmindedly, then corrected himself. “I mean- I think. It sounded like it came from the second floor. The light that exploded.” Orion stared at Winston for a long moment trying to process what they had just asked him. “I- what?” He asked them. He heard them of course, but couldn’t seem to fathom that they had actually just asked them to move in. “Are you? I mean- seriously?” He continued to stare at Winston, wide eyed and dazed. “I couldn’t do that. I don’t even have a job right now.”

“That’s all you can do,” Winston replied with a shrug. Though they had to admit that they found it a little odd that Orion had been able to work out where the bulb had gone so quickly. “I mean, we can only find out if we go and check,” Winston set off across the newly lit library, making their way up a tight spiral staircase that wound up and up, they climbed the metal steps one at a time until they were on the second floor, “I can’t see anything,” they admitted though that didn’t mean anything considering their eyesight was appalling, “let’s double check anyway.” And there it was, the predicted denial and refusal of their offer. “I mean, I am being serious, I would have to double check with Ricky but he wouldn’t mind and it’s not like the rent on our place is huge, Ricky pretty much owns the house and just charges for maintenance so even if you don’t have a job you’d only have to worry about covering food and stuff and we can help you out if you need it, you don’t have to say yes or no, just think about it, the offers open.”

Orion followed Winston across the library and towards the staircase to the area Orion had specified, accidentally. He knew that it was up here, evidenced by the darkness. Though technically that could just mean that bulb was burnt out rather than it was the one that had shattered. But Orion’s eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, another hunter perk. “Well the light isn’t working over here so I’m guessing this was it.” He spotted the broken glass after a moment, but decided not to say anything about it. He wasn’t ready to have the hunter conversation. Not yet. Especially when he lived with Ricky, who Rio had his own theories about. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that Winston had just invited Rio to move in with them. And despite how badly he wanted to say yes. And how badly he wanted to get away from his family, but just couldn’t see it ending well. Not with Athena. If Rio was right about Ricky, then living with him could put his life at risk, at least until he found a way to protect them. At least as far as Orion knew, Winston was human and therefore safe. “Yeah, yeah of course. And I really appreciate it. I think I’m okay? For now at least. I- uh- I’ll think about it though? Thanks again.”

As they searched for the broken bulb, Winston had to admit that they almost wished that they had a better excuse then needing glasses. As Orion led the way, Winston wondered whether there was something more to this then Orion was letting on. Thoughtfully, they played with a loose thread at the bottom of their t-shirt, before their converse crunched through a piece of broken glass with a loud crack. “I think that I just found it,” they said as they looked up into the darkness and sure enough spotted what remained of the exploded bulb, carefully they reached up and screwed it. “Listen, think about it, don’t take it if it doesn’t work for you, it’s a pressure free offer that is open ended, so, let us know if you change your mind.” Their father had talked to them about situations like this before and Winston was well aware that Orion’s situation may change. They had done their bit and that was all anyone could ask. 

For some reason, nothing ever seemed pressure free to Orion. The simplest decisions in life came with way too much anxiety to ‘think’ about and stress over. Every decision he had ever made felt grueling and left him exhausted. Playing truth or dare in elementary school had nearly drove him mad. But he appreciated the offer nonetheless, and truly believed that Winston meant it as a pressure free often. “Of course. You got it. I’ll think on it.” He nodded and smiled. It was dark, but maybe there was enough light for Winston to catch the facial expression. Or maybe not. Once Orion’s eyes adjusted to darkness it was hard to tell what normal humans could and couldn’t see. “So what now? We replace the broken bulb? Head back to the circuit room? I- uh… well you’re in charge here obviously. You actually know what you’re doing.” Once Winston left, Orion’s first goal would be to vacuum the place. He couldn’t imagine how long that was going to take.

Looking around, Winston had to admit that they didn’t think that this would’ve been as easy as it had turned out to be. They weren’t sure why, but they had expected more trouble setting everything up. “Well, I think that we’ve probably done enough for today, we’ve obviously got a bunch more to get done but I don’t think there’s that much that has to be done today…. So we could get a pizza or something? To celebrate our big achievement you know?” 

[themurphyzone]

104 Words for 104 Days: Brainstorm

Buford is my favorite out of the main five kids. He has a lot of great hidden depths. 

Though Buford could appreciate the organized chaos of an adolescent mind, Baljeet’s subconscious was a little too…overlord-y for his liking. Compared to the giant robotic Baljeet looming above them on an enormous control panel, Candace’s Id seemed like a friendly neighbor you started chatting with while grabbing the mail.

A projectile fired, barely missing Buford and slicing a giant eight in half.

Of course Baljeet’s subconscious was one giant calculator. Buford’s street cred would dwindle away to nothing if word got out. He wondered how he could go about creating an official non-disclosure agreement to get the others to keep their mouths shut.

And it couldn’t be a simple calculator either. There just had to be graphs.

Buford missed the varied landscapes of Candace’s subconscious. Here, everything was just gray and mechanical and boring. How was he supposed to lead a guided tour through this place if there was nothing interesting to talk about?

“And to your left, you’ll see gray. Fun fact: the mind of a nerd is boring and watching paint dry is more entertaining than this. Please buy Lord Baljeet’s latest book, How to Remove Earth’s Atmosphere and Other Fun Science Projects for the Intellectual Mind, in the gift shop at the end of this tour. Make sure to take recyclable paper bags unless you want Lord Baljeet to set you one hundred unsolvable quadratic equations as punishment!”

A nearby calculator key slid open, revealing a small hollow in the mechanical ground. Phineas’ head poked out of the hole, and he waved Buford over.

“CALCULATING OPTIMAL VELOCITY AND SPEED OF PARABOLARANGS.”

Buford had no idea what a parabolarang was, but he knew Phineas and Ferb could come up with a working plan to deal with the robotic Baljeet. He slid into the hollow just as the sound of something charging up grew louder.

“Now, Isabella!” Phineas shouted.

Isabella pulled on her Fireside Girl sash, releasing a lever on a wall and plunging them into a slight darkness as the calculator key closed above them. The only light came from tiny bulbs in the wall, casting the hollow in an eerie green glow.

“So does anyone know what we’re dealing with?” Buford demanded.

Isabella shrugged. “He’s acting like he’s got that brain stimulator on his head.”

“I don’t think we can approach this like Candace’s Id,” Phineas admitted. “The robotic Baljeet is too calculated. He’s using logic to determine his best way of attack.”

Buford scowled. “Hasn’t Baljeet’s nerdy Space Adventure films taught him anything? Robots with too much intelligence tend to develop huge egos and claim they’re better than us just because they’re not made out of carbon. The fifth movie is a prime example of that!”

He was pretty sure a cricket chirped somewhere, even though there were no crickets in the room.

“Not that I would know anything about it. It’s not like I’ve been having movie marathons with Baljeet or anything,” Buford coughed.

“Actually, I think you might be onto something,” Phineas said. “If the Id can have a physical form inside the subconscious, then the other parts of the Freudian mind might have one too.”

“It’s likely we’re dealing with Baljeet’s Ego, the polar opposite of the Id,” Ferb added. “Bruising it might be our best option.”

“Good thing we’ve got our friendly neighborhood bruiser right here!” Phineas grinned at Buford.

“Unless you want broken knuckles, you might wanna stick to talking,” Isabella suggested.

“Talk? Come on guys, you know I ain’t good at talking!” Buford protested.

An alarm blared, cutting off whatever inspiring words Phineas was going to say. The bulbs flashed red repeatedly. Everyone covered their ears.

“Is something out there?” Isabella shouted.

“Not sure!” Phineas yelled back. “Anyway, Buford, just use the normal bully language! And don’t worry, everyone knows an A.I’s greatest weakness is talking!”

“Sure you can’t just rig up some motorcycles that leave cool neon trails behind?” Buford asked. “Cause I ain’t sure your plan’s gonna work!”

The alarm blared louder.

“GRAMMAR POLICE! OPEN UP! BUFORD VAN STOMM, YOU ARE BEING CHARGED FOR USING A GRAMMATICALLY INCORRECT CONTRACTION AND ACKNOWLEDGING THE FIFTH SPACE ADVENTURE MOVIE AS CANON!”

“It had a good musical number though,” Phineas said.

“YOU WILL ALL BE CHARGED FOR ACKNOWLEDGING THE FIFTH SPACE ADVENTURE MOVIE IN GENERAL. WE WILL HAND YOU OFF TO THE OVERLORD FOR PUNISHMENT. COME OUT AND DON’T TRY ANYTHING FUNNY.”

The calculator key was hauled up by a green beam of energy, revealing a large ship controlling a tractor beam. Several robots in blue uniforms flooded in.

“WE HAVE THE CRIMINALS,” a robot said into a communication device as it grabbed hold of Buford’s arms. “BEAM US UP, LOTTIE. YES, I’M ALLOWED TO SAY IT. WE ARE PRODUCTS OF A SUBCONSCIOUS AND THEREFORE AREN’T SUBJECT TO COPYRIGHT LAWS.”

“I think I liked being attacked by the Ducky Momo club better,” Buford muttered as their surroundings disappeared and were replaced by a jail cell with electrified bars.

Since the guards weren’t leaving, they couldn’t come up with a plan, so the entire ten minute ride was spent in silence. Well, mostly silence. Phineas kept up a steady flow of chatter with the guards, unaware that they were probably ignoring him.

Since Buford had accumulated the most severe yet stupid charges, he walked in front of his friends. Buford felt a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. He hoped the quadratic equation thing was an exaggeration.

“I SENTENCE YOU TO ONE MILLION MULTIPLICATION PROBLEMS,” the Ego declared to a bucktoothed and glasses-wearing robot as they were led into the control room.

The robot nodded.

“TO BE DONE WITHOUT YOUR INTERNAL CALCULATOR.”

The nerdbot had to be dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming all the way.

“OVERLORD, WE HAVE BROUGHT BUFORD VAN STOMM AND HIS PARTNERS IN CRIME. THEY HAVE DARED TO USE INCORRECT GRAMMAR IN YOUR MIND AND MENTIONED THE FORBIDDEN FILM,” the lead guard said.

“This is dumb!” Buford shouted at the guard. “I want a lawyer! A jury of my peers! Someone with an actual degree in law!”

“You’re a triviamaster in Space Adventure, Baljeet,” Phineas added. “You have to know what happens in the fifth Space Adventure movie during the trial scene.”

Isabella made a show of rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what happens in the fifth movie. I’ve only seen the first two. For all I know, it could’ve gone exactly like this and we’ll all be doomed to one million multiplication problems ‘til our hundredth birthdays.”

“THAT IS NOT TRUE. THEY CLEARED THE LIEUTENANT OF ALL CHARGES AFTER THE CAPTAIN DISCOVERED THE FAKED EVIDENCE,” the Ego intoned.

“You’ve acknowledged the Forbidden Film,” Ferb said. “And broke your own law.”

“WHAT? NO! I HAVE INTELLIGENCE FAR BEYOND YOUR COMPREHENSION! I HAVE THE LARGEST BRAIN IN THE WORLD! MY PROCESSORS HAVE ADVANCED FARTHER THAN ANY COMPUTER MANKIND HAS EVER MADE!”

Sparks flew from between his joints and raced over his bolts. Without orders from their overlord, the Grammar Police were powerless.  

“Buford, go for the brain while he’s having an existential crisis!” Phineas shouted.

“On it!” Buford exclaimed, crackling his knuckles as he charged toward the Ego’s head. He shimmied up the robot’s arm, feeling electricity course through the metal. Not wanting to get caught in the blast if the Ego blew up, Buford quickened his pace, reaching the head after one brief misstep caused him to almost slip off entirely.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a way inside from the top of the head. Everything was covered in reinforced metal. Even Buford couldn’t punch his way through. Then he looked down, realizing the eyes were made of more breakable material than the rest of the body. Hoping he wouldn’t be nursing bloody fists later, Buford punched the eye, and the material tore like paper.

Apparently the Ego hadn’t spent a lot of time reinforcing his eyes.

“Oh, come on!” Buford shouted in frustration. He could only fit one arm through the hollow opening. He felt around the area, hoping to tear out a few wires. Instead, his hand landed on something that felt like cloth.

The metal was growing hotter, and Buford knew he didn’t have much time. So he yanked on the cloth.

And a familiar scream sounded from inside the Ego.

Buford yanked one more time, and the real Baljeet tumbled out. He looked no worse for wear, other than being dazed from Buford pulling on his overalls strap.

“He’s got Baljeet!” Isabella exclaimed. “Let’s get out of here!”

Buford tucked Baljeet under his arm, catching up with everyone else as they sprinted out of the room. The Grammar Police didn’t pursue them, still shocked by their overlord malfunctioning.  

“Irving! Get us out of Baljeet’s subconscious!” Phineas shouted into his phone.

“Roger that, Phineas!” Irving exclaimed. “In ten, nine, eight-“

“SKIP THE COUNTDOWN!” Buford roared into the receiver.

Irving huffed. “Fine. I guess some people have no appreciation for a good countdown.”

A few moments later, Buford’s vision was flooded by blue and green. He ripped off the electrodes attached to his face, throwing them to the ground and stomping them into the dirt for good measure. Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, and Baljeet were already awake, though only Phineas was standing and moving around.

“Learned my lesson,” Baljeet groaned. “I will never spend another all-nighter arguing on Space Adventure forums.”  

[jinmukangwrites]

(Not) Broken

"Hey, having read your answer to anons question, can you write a fic where the zora armor breaks and wild freaks out cause he broke miphas gift? And if you want maybe even add an explanation of who she was to the other links(for extra angst)? Love your fics and i cant eait for more!" -Anon

Here it is! Angst with a shot of Wild :3 I’m loving these requests I’m getting. It’s so fun to write them :D

-o-o-o-o-

Wild grunted as the Lizalfols lunged it's sharp boomerang at him, just managing to block the blow with his shield. There were a whole group of them, rushing out from nowhere when Wild and the rest of the Chosen Heroes finally made it up to the East Reservoir Lake. Their original plan was to relax by the fresh cool waters before they left the Zora's Domain the next morning. Wild was going to show them the land marks and prepare a subtle lunch (he dressed in his Zora armor and everything), but the moment they finally made up the long staircase to the top of the large dam, they were met with dozens of Lizalfos making themselves at home in the water.

Monsters were getting strangely confident, and this was proof of that. Never before had these creatures, or any monsters in general, made their base in these waters. Battle instinct took over and soon, all the heroes were in a tense combat, outnumbered by strangely strong monsters.

Though, it wasn't like the battle was an actual struggle. Every single one of the heroes have defeated unimaginable evil, being outnumbered by Lizalfos was really just a pebble compared to the mountains they had faced. It just wasted energy and diminished good moods. Wild could already hear Time grumbling that they should have just moved on instead of trying to find time to take a break.

He huffed and shoved his enemy back. The Lizalfos stumbled backwards and wasn't allowed any time to recover before Wild was slashing his sword across the monsters chest. The Lizalfos gurgled as black blood began to ooze from the wound, but it wasn't down yet.

"Only four more!" Times voice rang out from behind him. Wild couldn't see anyone or anything from where he was, fighting at the edge of the blue stone dock. "Hyrule, go help Wild-" Time continued, sending out orders like a natural born leader. Although, he didn't do that very often, but Twilight once shared his thoughts on it in secret to Wild, saying the old man was the eldest of the group, it was natural he'd begin to feel like a dad with too many rowdy kids.

Wild dodged another swipe of the boomerang. He could hear footsteps coming his way, so he suspected the battle wouldn't take much longer. Maybe he could take down the Lizalfos before Hyrule came to help?

He grinned and dove forward with his sword outstretched before he stabbed downwards into the monsters leg. It howled in rage and pain, and then did something unexpected. Instead of trying to retreated like most Lizalfos did when an enemy was too close to it, it swung out it's armed hand and slashed at Wild's stomach.

He felt sharp metal tear through his armor and scratch at his stomach, tearing through a thankfully small amount of skin. The most he would need to heal it would be a few bandages maybe, but that wasn't what made his heart leap to his throat.

There was a reason he never wore the Zora armor to battle.

He stumbled backwards with pounding ears and it suddenly hurt too much to breathe. He hardly even noticed his name being called, nor Hyrule striking the Lizalfos down with a killing blow to the gut, yelling. He was too busy clawing at the hole- the hole in the armor. Blood seeped through the small wound and got on his fingers but he was too panicked to care about that. He was hyperventilating, not caring about the cold stone beneath him or the vibrations of multiple running steps getting closer to him.

There was a tear in the hundred year old fabric. His own blood was getting on the edges, staining his most precious garment. He was gasping now, hyperventilating.

You break everything! Get away from the glass!

A glare.

//Respect this blade.

Disappoinment.

Perhaps we can spend some time together?

False trust.

He breaks everything he touches. Hylia, even Hyrule was broken because of him. Now… now this very precious item was torn, little threads of animal hair and wire stuck out at odd angles. Little threads that had probably taken her so long to hand weave. Little threads that she had meant to give to him as a proposal after they had succeeded.

He's sobbing and someone is shaking him, waving their hands out in front of him. He doesn't listen. Why won't he? He never breaks down like this in front of people. He's able to easily bounce back from the toughest of situations… always.

Why is this breaking him?

Scraps of memories aren't enough to remember someone.

Someone is grabbing his hands and tearing them away from his stomach. A strangled gasp escapes his throat and he's suddenly looking into the eyes of Legend. Behind him was Twilight, looking concerned but he wasn't stepping any closer. Time also stood in his field in vision, in front of the rest of them. Hyrule was off to the side, nervously folding his arms across his chest.

"Wild, look at me," Legend said.

Wild tugged at his hands, his bloodied hands, trying to get free because they were all to close to him. He breaks everything… weapons… master sword…. relationships… trust… precious gifts….

"You need to calm down," Legend said a bit more harshly. His grip on Wild's hands did not relent. "You're hurting yourself."

"B-broken-" Wild gasped, his fingers twitched as he looked down at the tear. "Mipha…"

Goddess, why was it so hard to speak? His hands twitched again and he tugged harder against Legends restraining hold.

Time walked and kneeled next to Legend. "Let go, he needs to sign."

Legend shook his head. "He made a small scratch look like a horror scene, I'm not letting go till he calms down."

"Every-" Wild gasped, gulping in air but feeling like he wasn't taking anything in at all. "Breaks- goes… dissa- disappoint- "

He sobbed and Legend scooted closer, his gentle hold still on Wild's wrists. "You mentioned Mipha?" He said quietly, softly, calmly. Everything Wild was not. "Why did you say Mipha?"

Wild shook his head and looked back down to the hole.

Legend spoke up again. "She gave that to you?"

Wild found himself nodding, his fingers twitching, signing in the best way he could.

"She made it," Time said, watching Wild closely. His voice was sad, like he knew what that meant. To be given such a precious thing from a Zora.

He was hyperventilating again and he couldn't control it. He'd had panic attacks before… but he could usually spot them coming. He could disappear from the people around him and suffer alone. He'd never had one on front of someone, let alone a whole group of someone's.

"Wild, breathe," Legend said gently lowering their hands and placed then against his chest. "Like this: breathe."

Wild desperately clung to the deep movements of Legend, it took a few seconds for Wild to match that. With every breath, the world focused just a bit more and the stinging pain in his stomach became more apparent. Legend continued to coach him on breathing until he decided Wild was calm enough to continue.

"Tell me about Mipha," he said kindly, something so unlike him.

Wild found himself nodding. "Beautiful," he said reverently, "she… she knew me. When I was…" His moved his fingers.

"A kid," Time finished.

Wild nodded. "Fell in love. With me, I- I don't know if I- but she always healed me, even when… I was an idiot. Even now… she still does…"

He lowered his head and wiped at his tears with his shoulder.

"Shouldn't," he choked, "I break everything, she shouldn't- even her precious gift…"

"You're upset because of the armor," Legend concluded, "she made this for you, a testimony of her love, and now it has a hole."

Wild let out a sob and bent forward so his head was leaning against their hands still against Legends chest. "I break everything- always- messing up-"

"No, let's focus on the armor," Legend said, suddenly letting go of Wild's hands. He brought his own up to Wild's armor, and Wild almost flinched. He brushed his fingers around the damage and tutted. "This is what's wrong now," he said as Wild slowly drew his arms to his chest, wrapping them around himself. "If you focused on this, you can see there's a way to fix this," he said.

Wild looked up in surprise and Legend shrugged. "All I would need is a little needle and thread, then it will look good as new."

"You sew?!"

Legend ignored Fours surprised comment and looked into Wild's eyes. "There, problem solved. I can fix this easily. I grew up with a blacksmith and his family. They taught me how to make things sometimes," he continued even as Four's surprised squawking got even more loud with Wind joining in. "As for the rest of your problems, you don't break everything. Sure, a sword or two will randomly explode on you, but it's not like it's your fault. You don't break everything because Hyrule is safe now, and Zelda is back in her castle, and we're here with you. You're not broken, Link."

Wild burst into more sobs, but this time out of sheer… happiness. He never knew how much he had needed to hear those words, and while it was surprising that Legend was the one to tell him them, he was still relieved beyond belief.

His armor can be mended, and it won't be the same, but it wasn't broken. He's not broken.

Suddenly, he was in the embrace of Twilight, his mentor and best friend after Zelda herself. He let out a wet laugh and returned it. Suddenly, Wind was jumping in and Hyrule following not too long after. Four strolled over and patted Wild on the head and Time stood off to the side, smiling. Legend pushed himself to his feet and was probably about to call it a job well done, but suddenly Sky was grabbing him, Time, and Warrior and dragging them into the awkward group hug.

Wild laughed so hard he forgot the pain from the cut in his stomach, as it was replaced with aching abs.

"Someone's on my foot!" Wind suddenly gasped, triggering a sudden laugh fest from every person in the hug.

Wild loved these guys, but he was sure that if anybody came you to check on them, they would all be looking a whole lot of idiots.

-o-o-o-o-

"Seriously, get off my foot..."

-o-o-o-o-

@linkeduniverse / @jojo56830

[the-walking-memelords]

A2 - A Sequel to Allegiances: Chapter 1 : VvvvV

Hello, my lovelies! It is I, your third favourite writer here with the long and highly-demanded sequel to "Allegiances" that I am releasing today, December first, the 1 year anniversary of my posting of the original fic on Ao3! 

Haven't read Allegiances? Read it here!

Tumblr | Ao3 | Wattpad Word Count: 1894 Pairings: Clementine/Louis | Ruby/Aasim | Brody/Mitch

Rating: M for Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Past mentions of Abuse/Trauma

Summary:  Five years have passed since Clementine won her freedom against the plot of the Delta, but trouble always seems to find a way to catch her. 

Because after all, 

the war didn't end with the Delta.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

Sunlight filtered through the multicoloured trees as autumn once again. The bright orange and yellow leaves swirled in the chilled breeze and danced along the walking paths. This was the fifth autumn since AJ had come to Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youths. The time before was not something the boy liked to think of, but occasionally his subconscious would remind him of his days that were numbered. But AJ couldn’t think of any of that right now.

The forest was no place for idle thoughts.

Alvin Junior, now nearly eleven years of age, walked along the trail alone with an aged bow and arrow in hand and Clementine’s hat upon his head.

AJ crept past the trees being careful not to step on any leaves or twigs that may give away his presence. The safezone was far behind him, not that anyone abided by that old border anymore. Louis and Aasim were off in some other direction hunting for some extra trading material. The late afternoon sun began to drift lower in the horizon, signalling the end of their hunt if they wanted to be home before dark. AJ knew he should be heading back to the meeting point, but the fresh tracks he followed promised a find worth a scolding from Clementine.

Where are you, deer?

The tracks he stalked moved off the path to a sparse area of the forest. The boy halted still as stone, listening. He didn’t dare blink when movement caught his eye. Not the stumbling gate of a monster, but a smooth, deliberate turn of an animal traipsing along its way. Hiking up the sleeves of his oversized blue hoodie, AJ bit his lip and rubbed his thumb along the rough wire of his bow before slowly nocking an arrow. 

He moved downwind from the deer, moving silently across the terrain as she slowly got closer and closer. The animal had a pristine coat. Unstained by blood or scars from encounters with the undead.

He must be a fast one.

 AJ knew if he missed it was unlikely that he would get the chance for a second shot. 

The sun stung his eyes as he quickly adjusted the brim of his cap and took aim. The stiff wire was difficult to pull back. Part of him wished he could just use his gun, but bullets were getting harder to come by as the years went on.

“Just for emergencies.” Clementine had reminded the boy as he tucked his revolver into his back pocket before setting off with Louis and Aasim.

The deer let out a half-startled grunt as it seemed to sense AJ’s presence, turning swiftly to face him a second before taking off. The deer was fast, but so was AJ. The boy released his arrow which missed its mark of the animal’s neck but lodged in its side, staining its light brown hide with fresh blood as it shrieked and fled.

AJ swore internally as the animal quickly lost him, leaving a trail of crimson drops behind. Now he just had to find it before the monsters did.

His frustration grew thicker with did the foliage as the boy followed the red smears, branches scratching at his face as he raced along. The bushes suddenly broke into a small clearing where AJ finally found his prey. 

The deer lay dying in a patch of grass scattered with wildflowers as if it sought out something peaceful before it’s inevitable end. It’s breathing was rugged and forced, clinging to every bit of life it had. The sight made AJ a little sad, guilty even, knowing he had done this. Killing animals always tugged at his heart a little, but he knew he had to do it so his family could eat.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as he pulled out his knife, slowly moving towards it to end its misery.

A muffled snarl came from AJ’s left. A walker with a bandanna tied around its mouth wandered into the clearing, paying the boy no mind as it stumbled towards the bigger meal.

“That’s mine.” AJ scowled as he kicked the walker’s knee hard, sending it sprawling to the ground. Without a moment’s hesitation, he jammed his knife into the walker’s skull.

The boy smirked, glad he hadn’t fallen out of practice in the month or so since their last walker sighting. Perhaps it had to do with the explosion, or travellers passing through more frequently, but the monsters have mostly gone away around Ericson’s. Clementine said when they got to the school, things were going to get better. And she was right. Both the human monsters and the monster monsters had gone away.

AJ looked down at the bloodied knife in his grip, and back over at the wounded deer, electing to use his bow instead incase it got feisty. Stepping through the soft grass he aimed another arrow at the deer’s eye before another growl caught his attention. Shifting his aim he sent an arrow flying into the eyesocket of the second walker to approach his catch. By the time he looked back down the deer had died on its own. It’s deep brown eyes now glassy and still.

“At least you don’t come back.” AJ said as he retrieved his arrow.

He gave the second walker a second glance, noticing something familiar. The boy squinted as he ran his hand over the red fabric tied over its jaw. The fabric was cold and wet. Black ink smeared under his touch as he traced the odd symbol painted on.

One long spike on each side with three shorter ones in the middle. Spikes pointed down like teeth. The formation reminded him of this one sassy expression Rosie would make when she wasn’t getting as much attention as she’d like. The teeth were painted on the cloth over the walker’s actual mouth. 

Is this supposed to stop it from biting people?

Doesn’t seem like it would work.

Why not just kill it?

The setting sun reminded AJ that he didn’t have time for this, but once the boy’s curiosity was piqued it was hard to ignore. Running back to the first walker, he checked the bandanna again and just as he suspected, there were the teeth, though older and more faded than the second.

Just like the other one.

Where they part of the same group? 

But they look so old and the other pain was new...

A skeletal hand brutally digging into his shoulder jolted him out of his thought. AJ whipped around just as the walked pinned him to the ground. The boy pushed his arm against the monster’s throat as its jaws snapped just inches from his face. Unlike the others, this one had nothing holding back it’s lethality.

AJ reached for his knife as he felt himself coming closer to being overpowered, just for his fingers to merely graze the handle as it laid out of reach. 

This is an emergency.

AJ snaked his hand under his back and found the cool metal of his revolver, wedging it out from under him and bringing the barrel to the monster’s temple and pulling the trigger. Blood and brain matter sprayed across the boy’s face and she sounds of the forest were immediately drowned out by an intense ringing in his ears as he threw the walker off of him, taking a moment to lay in the grass and catch his breath. He sat up as the ringing faded, replaced with the scattered chirping of birds and faint moans of what that gunshot just summoned.

Multiple shadows moved among the trees, far too many for one kid to fight. AJ cast a final apologetic glance to the deer he knew he couldn't drag back with him in a timely enough manner to escape the dead, and fled back in the direction he came from.

Anxiety turning to fear as the evening chill settles on his skin and the sunlight spread thin across the land, shadows taking over and hiding all that lurked among the forest. AJ’s heartbeat picked up as he ran. Eventually, the trees turned to all tall dark pillars, indistinguishable in detail. Dodging past one after the other until one dark mass failed to dodge him. 

The impact was solid but softer than a tree, both parties well backwards as AJ quickly brandished his knife.

“Easy there, little dude.” A familiar voice said worriedly.

“L-Louis?” AJ’s iron grip loosened enough for Louis to take the blade from him as the boy heaved, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m here. I gotcha.” Louis put his arm gently on the boy’s should as he pulled him into a hug. 

“Let’s get you home.”

AJ gripped the sleeve of Louis’ worn down coat as he stood. AJ couldn’t believe he still wore that thing, as stained and torn as it had become over the years. Though he supposed Louis hadn’t changed much over the years like some of the others had. His dreads were a bit longer which he mostly tied back in a ponytail, but leaving those same two dreads to hang in his face. He was still easily a head taller than, a fact he periodically reminded her about by resting his elbow on the top of her head.

“Where’s Aasim?” AJ asked as his breathing slowed.

“He’s waiting at the meetup spot, let’s go find him.” He said with a smile.

Leaves crunched under their boots as they found the dirt path once again. With the sky darkening by the minute, they began to head back.

“What the hell were you still doing out here?” Louis asked.

“We’ve been looking for you forever, and then I heard the shot. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starting to freak out”

“I’m sorry.” the boy said, looking down guiltily.

“I was following a deer. I thought if we could kill it then we’d have food for a few days, or maybe  Layla would trade us something cool for it.”

“A deer, huh?” Louis chuckled.

“Now tell me, AJ, how you were planning to drag a whole-ass deer from the middle of nowhere to the meetup point?”

“I thought if I could get it to the path you’d find me and help me carry it.” AJ sighed sadly at the lost catch.

“It’s walker food now though.”

A figure stepped out onto the path a ways in front of them that caused them both to freeze for a moment before letting out a breath at the wave of their friend Aasim.

“Thank god you found him.” Aasim said in a serious yet relieved tone.

“We gotta head back while we still have a little daylight.”

The three of them began to hurry back hoping the walk back would be as uneventful as the walk there.

“You’re not gonna tell Clem I went off on my own, right?” 

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Louis knew he’d be in the same amount of trouble as AJ if Clem found out he allowed it.

“Details or not we’re all in deep shit when we get back.” Aasim sighed.

AJ smiled, knowing the lecture he was going to get from ruby when they returned, but that smile quickly faded, knowing he had is own lecture waiting for him from Clementine.

Maybe the deer wasn’t worth it after all. 

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations DEAN! You’ve been accepted as JANUS with a FC change to CASEY DEIDRICK.

Dean, first let me say that when I saw an app from you in our inbox I screamed! Now, onto business. The way you created a backstory for Jackson that starts in Las Vegas and ends in Chicago kept me hanging on each and every word. I have to admit, the detail about how there’s only one form of identification with his true face and name was one of my favorite parts! I also loved how you broke name his name - it’s a little detail that went a long way in figuring out who Jackson is. We’re so excited to have you back on the dash and with our Janus! 

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

NAME/ALIAS: Dean

PRONOUNS: She/her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT, fairly active

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Jackson Sawyer Raemers

GENDER/PRONOUNS: He/him

DETAILS & ANALYSIS: This is where you show us who the character is to you! The format of this doesn’t matter, whether it’s in bullet points or in para form, and can be as long as you’d like it to be. Feel free to get creative!

The name Jackson is a Scottish name. In Scottish the meaning of the name Jackson is: God has been gracious; has shown favour. Based on John or Jacques.

Sawyer was an English meaning, a occupational name for someone who earned his living by sawing wood, Middle English saghier, an agent derivative of sagh(en) ‘to saw’.

Raemers based on Ramer, The oldest form of the name is “Reinmar” or “Reginmar,” which literally meant “famous councillor.” Always prominent in social affairs.

He’s a walking contradiction, his mind never 100% made on a singular motive and distraction easily pulled him from one thing to the next. Jackson’s chaos is a subtle one, orchestrated solely for his own enjoyment until there’s reason to repel against something or someone. Opinionated in a way in which his argument could be swerved from one side the the other only because he wanted to play devil’s advocate and test other people’s beliefs because it gives him comfort to see witness the grey spots in other’s morals.

A lot of what he does was born from his own insecurities, the voice in the back of his head telling him that we were more worthless than the dirt on the bottom of his shoes. So he hides his true self carefully, uses masks of humour and then hides behind other peoples identities. Carefully packaging away his own demons with false confidence that couldn’t be questioned.

BIO:

Fraud and robberies became second nature, easier than breathing yet essential to keep his head from sinking below the water. It was ironic, how swift his own actions turned from survival to pure indulgence. Disordered violence increasingly becomes addictive due to the way it supplied him with a steady rush of endorphins. The taste of rebellion even more rewarding when it was fuelled by the very mutation that he’d been discriminated for his entire life. He’d unlocked his true potential, a criminal with the ability to morph fluidly from one appearance to the next.

He supposes it was a form of obsession, in contrast to his former self, an upbringing spent repressing his powers to appease his terrified parents who feared the opinion of the neighbourhood than what may become of their son by neglecting a key part of his identity. Living life as an outlaw, adorning himself in tourist t-shirts and tacky dollar store sunglasses was a vast improvement. A lifestyle that saw him existing out of the trunk of his car, mustard stains from a drive-thru burger discolouring the map which lay open on his passenger seat, red ink circling his next destination. He couldn’t picture himself living an average life, didn’t want to be another cog in a well oiled cooperate machine where he’d become just another number sat at a desk until he’d worked up enough hours to pay off a mortgage.

Jackson’s luck fell short, naturally, the second his car pulled into sin city. Las Vegas with the luminosity of neon lights and slot machines was the single worst decision he could have made. Worse than disowning his family, worse than his impulsive decision making when getting tattoos and maybe even worse than the time he’d shifted into the body of a girl scout in some desperate attempt of getting a dozen boxes of thin mints free of charge. But like a moth to a flame, it was the adrenaline that led him to do it. Shifting from one casino owner to the next, he’d committed fraud multiple times each night and donate the remainder of the money after he’d loaded up on hawaiian shirts and sugary snacks, to organisations working against mutant laws and discrimination. Like a modern day Robin Hood, only driving a rusted up old Chevrolet in dire need of a new paint job.

It’s a mixture of arrogance and a blimp in his concentration that causes it to all unravel. Facading as a beer bellied Elvis impersonator in one of the chapels, he’d spent the evening pick pocketing gambling money from unsuspecting intoxicated couples who’d been making poor life decisions. It was easy work which naturally meant he’d become sloppy, the sort of stupidity that lands him an evening in police custody and unable to show any identification on himself other than a driving license that matches his true appearance. Jackson Sawyer Raemers, born November 22nd in the state of Arizona, an individual with an outstanding warrant for his arrest and a suspected mutant. There’s no court trial, no mention of imprisonment or bail. Instead he’s transported overnight to a medical research facility, sedated and left to answer for his crimes in what he would deem to be the pits of hell.

He’s carefully monitored, pumped with medication and used as a lab rat for illnesses to watch how his mutation may help him to recover- if at all. Cut open and stitched together again, regular interviews for insights on his ability and encouraged with rewards to see how far he could push his powers under supervision. Of course those rewards never met anything more exciting than a pudding cup with lunch or a ten minute stoll in the security monitored outdoor area. The three years he’s trapped there he learns a few things about himself and his mutation; no matter how many times they tried they couldn’t replicate it in a tube, even with the ability of cell reconstruction this hadn’t granted him immunity from the common cold and pudding cups definitely weren’t worth the amount effort he’d been putting in for them.

It was entirely by chance that a group of enraged mutants in the facility had grouped together to form a riot. The building caught up in an intentional blaze that triggered cell doors to swing open and allow their occupants to vacate. With such a perfect diversion in place, Jackson takes his opportunity to escape by shifting into the appearance of one of the women who had been treating him. Able to use her fingerprints to unlock the exit, the first thing he does is hot wires the Mercedes in the parking lot and takes off back on the road. They say old habits die hard, much could be said the same for Jackson. How easily he fell back into his old games of identity theft as if three years worth of reflection had taught him nothing.

He returns to what he does best, only now it was personal, the lust of rebellion replaced with spite for those who had been disceting him like a science project. Jackson spends his time examining the faces that appear in the media voice against mutant rights and the research entrepreneurs that treated as nothing more than a paycheck. It’s how he finds himself in Chicago, rumoured a place that was almost a santuary for mutants where he’d be able to meet like minded individuals. And of course, it’s how he finds The Jem Family. He’s still not entirely sure why Damien had taken a liking towards him, his only redeemable factor being that he was reckless enough to not question any given orders in which other members may shudder at. It was an overwhelming sense of finally belonging to something, that he’d mattered outside of his own world and could really make a difference.  

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Luca Medoza: He finds them entertaining, his own laid back rebellion in contrast to something much bolder. Subtle versus out right in your face. He’d spend a lot of time with Luca, telling her what had happened in the latest true crime series he’d been watching and not minding too much when the only thing she picks up on was that he’d spent 10 hours straight binge watching on Netflix again.

Neve Kaplan: She’s the first person in a long time that he doesn’t hide any aspect of himself from. He let her see every aspect of his personality, the gritty details and forbidden secrets he hadn’t dared to share with anyone else. For a while she’d been his home, the missing part of the puzzle that could take the bitterness away and ease his own reckless behaviours, until she’s gone. It still stings when he see’s her, but it’s also a pleasant reminder that at least what he’d felt had been real.

Cain Douglas: He gets pleasure out of his visits and will show up even if the damage is nothing spectacular. He’s absolutely rolled up with a paper cut before and made it out as if he’d lost a limb over texts on his way there. Jackson gets most his kicks from aggravating the hell out of people and with Cain it was almost too easy. Although when he is genuinely hurt it does become a little more difficult of Cain to take him seriously with all the jokes he plays. Sometimes he’ll fake an injury just to get some advice, doctors and therapists are basically the same thing, right?

EXTRA: This section is completely optional. You can add anything here such as: more para samples, headcanons, mock blogs, edits, playlists, etc. Please note that because it is optional, putting everything or nothing in this section will not be a determining factor in your application. This is just for fun!

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/dean_ie/janus/

Tag: https://stereotypicalcancerwrites.tumblr.com/tagged/ch:%20jackson%20raemers

-Jackson is obsessed with snacking, or any opportunity to stuff his face with food really. He’ll take it personal if you go out for a meal and he doesn’t get an invite.

-He can’t function without a morning coffee. 3 shots served black with one spoonful of sugar. He’ll have another at noon because he’s a night owl and eternally paying the price.

-He has a fear of blood, it makes him feel dizzy and he’s absolutely the worst person to have around if you were in a serious injury. He’d pass out before you would.

-Jackson can sing The Element Song by Tom Lehrer perfectly from memory.

-He has a habit of seeing the world from a very cynical perspective and is always anticipating the worst to happen in any given situation. It allows him to feel less surprised or out of control when things do turn sour.

-Jackson has a doberman named Bella, as in Bella Swan- he was trying to be funny

-He doesn’t trust easily and as a result he’s pretty distant. He’s always got a guard up and is very reluctant to let people into his life as most people that have seen the real him have resulted in negative connotation.

-He is allergic to shellfish so if someone wanted to kill him…

-He is always using humour and bad behaviour as a defense mechanism from people getting too close to see the real him.

-He had a stutter as a kid due to low self-esteem. It occasionally comes back when he’s stressed or upset. It’s one of the giveaways for his shapeshifting.

-Jackson is a reckless driver

-He’s obsessed with 1970s music

-Jackson is a hoarder, he collects a lot of pointless stuff like the top of bottle caps, funny slogan tshirts and cheap sunglasses from dollar stores

-He hates having to dress up formally, he feels like it draws attention to him and not in a funny showing off sort of way

-He has numerous tattoos and none of them were what you’d consider ‘good’, they’re shitty or only there to illustrate some pun or memory of a drunken evening. He’s upset some of the scars from the research facility have beheaded a hulahooping stick men on his leg.

ANYTHING ELSE: Did you have any questions or any changes you wanted to discuss with us beforehand?

FC change to Casey Deidrick