#I need to make my grandma her curtains

[tj-crochets]

Crafting update: -I have abruptly realized I probably should have already started holiday crafting but am ignoring that for now lol - three rows completely sewn together out of fourteen for the new rainbow triangle quilt! One row sewn into a row but it needs one more round of ironing before I sew it to the quilt top. Ten rows to go - I have three coworker's babies (or grandbabies) to make blankets for! I think I'll just go for simple flannel blankets instead of quilts so I can get them all done quickly, but baby blankets!!! :D - I need to mail stuff and if I promised to mail you something recently I swear I still will. I have a pile of packages to mail forming, the local post office just has very restricted hours and the asthma flareup has made leaving the house into a high-spoons activity. So, this weekend? Or early next week at the earliest - oh no oh no holiday crafting

[anoddrock]

Remembering stuff SUCKS like can I go back. I don’t want to get your stupid ‘memory unlocked’ achievement. Put it back

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: I'm a sleepy babay.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s a finality to the tap of your thumb. You hold the block button for a moment before you let it go. The window pops up asking if you’re sure. Yes. Certain. This is just a mistake and when you’re older and wiser, you’ll be thankful you made it. If you even remember it. 

You lay back and put your phone down. Done. Over. No more Jacob. No Andy.  

Maybe you’ll go back and see Kara again, or she can come here, even if she hates this town. You can at least be thankful that it reconnected you two, and you have to be grateful to learn a hard lesson. Don’t mess with strangers online. You’re better off alone. 

You close your eyes. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and yes, physically. Who knew scooping ice cream could be so much work? 

When you wake up, you’re sore and still groggy. The sun peers in at you brightly in the slat between the curtains. You groan and hide under the pillow. Your shift starts at noon. You can’t spend all morning doing nothing or the whole day is wasted. 

You drag yourself out of bed. Your grandma is still asleep. You’re sure she was up until dawn with her latest haul from the used book store. You clean up the cluster of wrappers around her chair and tidy up the kitchen, dumping the old coffee and brewing a new pot. 

You go to grab your phone and pause as you see an unusual notification. Your email? Huh. You don’t really use that besides for school. You open it up, thinking it might be about enrolment. No. It’s him. Andy. Holy moly. 

You scroll up and down, skimming the blocks of text. Oh god. You hit delete. You’re not reading all that. You said what needed to be said. 

You have your coffee and load the machine for whenever your mother gets out of bed. You eat and wash up, catching up on some Youtube before you make yourself get your uniform on. You head out, walking to work to enjoy the sunshine, and key in between tying on your apron and chatting with Gavin, the high schooler who does half-shifts every now and then.  

He leaves at four and you have your complimentary cone just after five. Peanut butter chocolate; classic. You eat at the window as you watch the mostly empty street. Your phone vibrates and you slide it out, hoping to take advantage of the lull. 

WhatsApp request? No way. The shammy recruiters always want a piece of you. At least you never fell for that. 

You bite into the cone and your phone suddenly blows up with Insta notifications. Bots! Ugh. So annoying. Every new follower is faceless with some generated name. You mute the notifications and put your cell away. You really are a boring person. 

As you look up, tires crush over a patch of gravel and your barely catch a glimpse of the car as it rolls just around the corner. You feel like you’ve missed something. Maybe your grandma is right about you always having your nose buried in a screen. Who is she to talk? She lives in her novels. 

Your shift ends at eight. You lock up and stop by the convenience store down the block. Nothing special, just a tray of carbonara you can shove in the nuke. As you pay at the counter, the door chimes to signal another customer. You accept your meagre meal as the other patron strides into the aisle. You don’t look over as you go directly for the door. You’re starving for more than a scoop. 

Your footsteps seem to echo through the dull streets. The frozen meal makes your hand hurt as your other holds your cell phone close. You text Kara as you finally get through the essay she wrote about Calvin’s latest antics. You wish you could convince her to play something. You feel aimless without an analog stick under your thumb. 

There’s a scuff, close behind you, loud enough to make you jump. You fumble with your phone and glance over your shoulder. You don’t see anything but the thick oak outside Luella’s. Ugh. Alright, you need to eat and lay down. It hasn’t been a busy day but still a long one. 

You pass through your grandma’s front door. She’s where she always is, in her chair, but something’s off. Something’s different. The smell of pollen hangs in the air and a pot stands on the coffee table with several white orchids tall in the soil. You frown. The last time you got her flowers, she didn’t even put them in a vase. 

“Oh, those are pretty,” you say. 

“Mph, not mine,” she grumbles, not looking up. 

“Not... who’s...” 

“Delivery man said your name. I didn’t read the card. I’m not a snoop.” 

You nod, thankful at least that she isn’t nosy. You go to the table and examine the pot. Who would send you flowers? 

You take the card off the tall pronged stick and open the envelope. You slide out the paper and unfold it. 

‘I know I’ve told you a million times, so I’ll show you how sorry I am instead. Yours always, Andy.’ 

You nearly drop your handful. Your eyes flick up to the pot and you have to stop yourself from pushing it off the table. What the hell? How... how does he know where you live? You never even mentioned what town you’re from. He only knows your college and it’s so small, he wouldn’t have heard of it. 

It’s enough to unsettle you. That he knows where you live is bad enough but the flowers themselves make a point. It’s not over. He’s not walking away but what else can you say to make him? Didn’t he get it? You think were pretty nice considering. 

“You got some boy?” Your grandma raises her eyes from the page. You can’t remember the last time she even bothered looking at you. 

“Not exactly,” you tuck the card away and put it in your pocket. “I’m going to make my dinner.” 

“Eh,” she grumbles, “fine. Get them flowers somewhere else. They stink.” 

You lift the vase, hugging it around the pot, and carry it from the room. You balance it against your hip and go into the kitchen. You use your free hand to pull open the freezer and put the pasta inside. You’re not so hungry anymore. 

🎮

The irises are pretty. The pot they came in is fancy, probably expensive. It underlines once more the gap between you and the real Jacob. Between you and Andy.

It only reminds you of how ridiculous you must have sounded. So, you just can’t understand why he’s doing this? Why is he still trying? For you? A girl with dwindling hopes of even finishing her low-tier college degree. 

You try to forget. You don’t have a shift that day but you can’t just sit around. Usually, you would. You’d hole up in your bedroom and play video games. Not anymore. He ruined that. You’re disappointed you’re letting him. 

You got down to the library for a while and wander around. There’s nothing there you’re very interested in. They still haven’t got the latest release in the series you’d read in high school. Oh well, you’ll wait around until one day you learn the fate of those revolutionary spies. 

You walk the main strip of the town. It isn’t very extensive. There’s a coffee shop and the used bookstore which also carries hobby supplies. There’s the same diner that’s been there since you were a kid and the interchangeable business that open and close year after year. 

There’s a vibe in your pocket. It’s not Kara. Another WhatsApp request, more Insta bots, and Discord. You haven’t been on the server in ages. You couldn’t keep up with all the channels and most of it was arguing about mining strategies. 

It’s Andy. Frig. You should’ve blocked him there too. You just hadn’t thought of it. 

‘Did you like the flowers?’ 

You don’t answer but he’ll see that you read it. It isn’t long before he’s typing. 

‘I am still very sorry. I wish you’d talk to me. Hear me out.’ 

Hear him out? He said everything. His son is dead and he lied to you. That’s not anything you can hash out. 

‘I know you’re not working today. I’ll make a new world and we can chat there.’ 

No. That’s not going to happen. Over. O-V-E-R. It’s done. You’re not going to be like Kara. When you cut the cord, it’s snipped. 

You won’t answer. That’s just bait. He’ll keep nibbling if you do that. You press the chat settings and block. That’s better, you can’t breathe. 

You put your phone on silent and back in your pocket. You wish you had the money to try the sushi place. It won’t last long in the bodunk town so you probably won’t ever get to. Oh well. Back on campus, they sell decent California rolls at the cafeteria. Decent, not necessarily good. 

You go home. To your grandma’s house. It doesn’t always feel like home. You know she’s counting the days until you leave. You are too. 

You wish you were brave enough to apologise. To say sorry your mom and dad didn’t want you. That she got stuck with you. It feels like saying it out loud would be worse. Just wallow in the unspoken resent, one day you won’t ever come back and maybe then you can both be happy. 

In your room, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your Switch taunts you from across the room. You want to mine or race or even scare yourself with some Hellblade. You can’t. More Youtube. More wasted time. That’s what people like you do; people from small towns with no one who loves them and no money; waste time. 

The mindless videos help you relax but not forget. You just can’t get rid of the little tickle at the back of your head. There’s a tinge of shame that remains and a sliver of guilt. It will go. It has to, one day. 

You catch yourself staring at the orchid. You can smell it. You want to throw it away but that feels rude. Even if Andy would never know, even if you shouldn’t care. He hurt you, didn’t he? He lied. Well, you could give it to Mahalia next door, she loves flowers. 

You lay in indecision. You don’t want to do anything but lay there. Now that you’re still, you have no strength. Your day off is chipped away in your laziness.  

The next day awaits you with another shift at the booth. And the day after and the day after. 

Your fourth day in a row and you get a new Discord message. You know even before you open it, even by the blank avatar and nondescript username. It’s him. Just leave me alone. Let it go. Let me forget. 

‘I know you don’t want to hear from me but I need you to hear me. I can’t stop thinking of you and what happened. I can do better. Please, let me apologise.’ 

Blocked. Again.

Work. Again.  

You’re half asleep as you fill cones with soft serve. You smile and swallow yawns, faking it for the hyper children and cheerful couples. 

When it slows, you work on cleaning the freezer, switching out empty containers with ones from the deep freeze. As you check the soft serve, there’s a tap on the open walk-up window. Oh shoot. You should’ve been paying better attention. 

You turn back to greet the next customer but as you approach the window, your chest deflates. Frozen, like the tubs around you. You stare at Andy as he smiles at you. He wears a short-sleeve button up with blue, grey, and white stripes. His hair blows in the soft breeze. 

“Do you have butterscotch ripple?” He asks brightly. 

You blink and hesitate. You don’t know what to do. How did he get here? How did he find you? Why is he here? 

You reach for the window and before he can stop you, you shut it. You lock it from the inside and step back. His face falls and his brow arches as he stands straight. He says your name, his voice muffled by the glass, and puts his palm to the barrier. 

“Please,” he begs. 

You shake your head and turn your back to him. If your manager was here, you’d be in shit. That’s a no-no. Never turn away a customer, only shut the window when you lock up. 

You ignore him and go back to tidying. There could be a line up out there but you don’t care. Your hands are shaking and it’s not just the temperature.

You just can’t believe he’s there. You can’t believe he won’t just give up. You don’t want to believe it because you’re afraid. You’re terrified and he seems entirely clueless about how scary he’s being. 

Flowers are one thing but showing up at your job? That’s a flaming red flag that even you can see. Not only because you told him plainly that you don’t want to talk to him again, but because he’s a grown man. Fortysomething and he can’t take a hint. Why would a man his age want to talk to someone as young as you? That’s another red flag on its own. As if catfishing you wasn’t enough. 

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Dieter Bravo's Christmas Special Merry Christmas @schnarfer!

In a shocking revelation... since I just acted like your Secret Santa had a question for you... I'm your Tent Pitchers Secret Santa and I couldn't be more excited to give you your gift! Getting to know you has been one of the best gifts I could get this year. Shout out to @mothandpidgeon for her eyes and ears and her fellow wingedness. Also, this is a sell on The Adventures of Owl, Moth & Mallardy. 🦉🦋🦆 Also big shout out to @devineconjuring for her beta work and support in this insanity where I make her read terribly formatted scripts. Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the ornaments! Now, please keep in mind the formatting is a bit wacky because the script format is NOT Tumblr friendly so I had to do screen shots for some scenes. TW: Some drug and alcohol use is in here. This is absolute insanity. I cannot stress this enough. It is Dieter after all.

Dieter takes his mark. The lights are way too bright. Who decided that he needed to be under so many bright fucking lights? 

He holds his mug of hot cocoa—and whiskey—and takes a drink that burns his throat. He swallows the fiery yet smooth liquid down and blinks his big doe eyes at Camera A. The one they put a picture of a scantily clad lady dressed like Santa on so he can remember it’s the main camera. 

Why did he ever agree to do something like this? He remembers the meeting a couple months ago, taking the elevator up to one of the top floors in a boring brutalist-style building smack dab in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. His team and the network’s shaking hands and comparing dick sizes and bank accounts as they planned to exploit the American capitalist dream, all in the name of holiday cheer. He was about to tell everyone no and to fuck off—until they dropped that they could get the Muppets. He’s always wanted to meet Kermit–he thinks he would be a positive influence in his life.  

So, Dieter Bravo agreed to do the Christmas special and signed his name on the contract.

Now he’s here in this itchy, hot sweater under these bright lights. 

The festive music fades out into a commercial break. Dieter rushes off stage behind the big, red velvet curtains to his dressing room. 

“How much time do I have?” He asks the stage assistant as he guzzles down a drink of cold water.

“You have to be on stage in seven minutes, Mr. Bravo. Radiohead is doing their cover of Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer, and then you’re doing the animal showcase.

“Right, right. Gotta pee,” Dieter says with a nod as he swings the bathroom door open.

“I’ll just uhh—leave you to it,” the shocked assistant says as Dieter pulls his pants down with zero shame. 

Ugh, he’s so tired. He knows just the thing that will help him. His own snow, glorious little snow that he keeps in a vial in his bag. 

One hit, one deep sniff, one nose tickle, and he’s GOLDEN. Until—

He steps out on stage and sees a gigantic owl. His eyes go wide, his pulse quickening—not just from his magic white powder.

He cautiously walks over to the friendly-enough-looking zookeeper and takes his spot, his big brown eyes darting back and forth from the owl to the exit sign.

“AND WE’RE BACK IN 5-4-3-2…1”

Fuck.

He stares wide-eyed at the camera. 

“Wel—welcome back to my special… it’s special. Guys, holy shit, there’s an owl. That’s a bird of prey. BIRDS. We all know all the birds died in 1986.” 

“Um. You’re wrong about the latter, but as for the former, you’re right. Owls are a bird of prey, very good!” The zookeeper answers. 

“I don’t trust birds, man,” Dieter says, leering at the wide-eyed owl with fear. “They can fly too far and they’re always listening. My mom told me that’s who Santa uses to watch over us during the year to make sure we’re being nice.”

“…okay,” the zookeeper replies, his smile faltering for a moment as he tries to adjust to Dieter's energy. “But owls are actually sagacious creatures. They help maintain the ecosystem by controlling rodent populations.”

Dieter leans closer and squints at the owl, totally cool with all the commotion surrounding it. “Yeah, well, that’s what they want you to think! I bet it’s just some kind of spy. You know? Like a furry little CIA agent with feathers.”

“Okaaaay. Let’s just… get back to how amazing owls can be,” the zookeeper says, trying to regain control of the segment. “This magnificent creature here is named Psyche. She’s a great horned owl and—”

“Great horned owl?” Dieter interrupts, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Does that mean she has horns? I thought only goats had those.” He shoots Psyche a sideways glance, who blinks lazily back at him.

“No horns, just ears that look like horns!” the zookeeper explains, trying hard to remain upbeat while Dieter spirals further into his conspiracy theories. “And Psyche—”

“More like ‘Psyche the Spy’s key,’” Dieter cuts in again. “What is she reporting back? ‘Hey Santa, this guy is weird?’”

“Uhh,” the zookeeper blinks at Dieter, then towards the director. 

Dieter leans into Psyche, feeling braver and braver the longer he’s near her. “What’s in your head, little horned one?”

Psyche moves her head, her large yellow eyes meeting his. 

“WITCH!” Dieter shouts, arms flailing as he runs to hide behind a large tree flocked with white snow, decorated with red and gold baubles and beautiful ornaments depicting animals. 

“CUT TO COMMERCIAL!” The exasperated director harshly whispers into his headset. “And send that zookeeper a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.” 

Dieter watches from next to the director as three of his childhood heroes read from a gilded Night Before Christmas book. Wow, Kermit the Frog is here–and he’s about to join him. 

This is it. Over forty years of fandom, and NOW–NOW–he gets to meet Kermit. His heart feels like it’s going to fly out of his chest with each step he takes across the stage towards his three heroes. 

Dieter is now only two steps away from the wall. Soon, he’ll be with them, able to hug and touch them. THE FUCKING MUPPETS. He moves to stand behind the wall—but his foot runs into something that lets out a soft oof.

He looks down. There’s an actual human man huddled behind the wall with—with their hand UP KERMIT’S ASS.

“Dude! What the fuck? What!? You sick fuck?! What is happening? GET YOUR HAND OUT OF KERMIT’S BUTT!” He shouts, yanking the puppet off of the man’s hand. 

“CUT!!! CUT CUT CUT SEND TO COMMERCIAL! CUT!” The director yells. “And send that puppeteer a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.”

“It’s okay, Kermit, I’ve got you,” Dieter cries into the floppy, green fabric. 

“Dieter,” the director gets his attention. “This was a terrible idea. Please, go get some rest. Prepare your team for the barrage of reporters who will be calling.”

“But, who’s going to finish the show?” Dieter asks, holding Kermit’s body closer to him. 

“We—we called in a replacement. Phoebe! Get out here!”

Phoebe Waller-Bridge walks out in a beautiful red dress, wearing black tights and black boots. Quite Fleabag coded. 

“I’m ready!” She cheerily announces.

“Wow,” Dieter says, enamored by her presence. “Yeah, you’ll be way better than me at this. I’m going to take a nap. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Dieter! Now, send in the hot priests to dance!”

Love you 🦉

[drchenquill]

Character profile tag!

Thank you for the tag @the-golden-comet , @sableglass , @finickyfelix and @paeliae-occasionally ! I'm sorry it took me so long, I just couldn't decide who to take for this game. I'll just go with my baby boy Leon.

Name: Leon Martens

Nickname: "Waschlappen" by his late grandma. (It's German and it means sissy, wimp and so on.) It's an insult, but she used it as nickname, often refering to him like that while talking to other people, making it sound like a cute "family inside joke".

Kind of being: Human

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Appearance: fluffy honey-blonde hair with dark drown eyes. Very pale, almost sickly looking skin. He mostly wears cardigans to feel comfortable. His calloused hands look frail like everything on him to be honest. He is rather thin and weak looking. He is a frail man.

Occupation: Art teacher

Family members: None (all deceased. It wasn't a big family)

Pets: None

Best friends: he would say none, but Kiki has taken that spot very fast.

Describe his/her room: So, a bit of context. He moved into a shabby apartment but mid story was forced to move again into a not-as-shabby apartment. I'll describe his old room because his current room isn't his, it's Kilians.

Quoting him: "My bedroom has a large window that looks out onto the street. Normally I would draw the curtains, which didn't happen this time. That's why I can see the first shy rays of sunlight creeping into the day. The apartment I'm currently renting consists of five rooms. The bedroom with a double bed that takes up far too much space, thanks in part to the wardrobe that will collapse on me with just a small earthquake and free me, a bathroom that barely has room for a bathtub, a living room furnished with a beige couch that I doubt was the original color, a small TV that I'm afraid to turn on and, last but not least, the small kitchen where I recently tried to make a coffee with shaky hands and the flame of the stove almost burned my face."

Way of speaking: Polite, tries to never raise his voice.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): He avoids eye contact and often walks with his head down. When he's stressed, his right hand tends to cramp, so you may see him subtly massaging it. He also tends to have twitching hands when he feels the need to draw something to calm down. He is developing a hunchback by always walking with a hunched posture to subconsciously make himself smaller.

Items in his/her back pocket/ purse: A small pocketsized sketchbook with a tiny pencil (he draws to calm himself down.) And his phone and wallet.

Hobbies: Drawing.

Favorite sports: None.

Abilities/Talents/Powers: Drawing

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): He tries not to interact with other people, but when he does, he tends to not hold eye contact for too long. He is rather submissive, not wanting to anger anyone.

Fears: Being looked at, making mistakes, angering other people, people thinking he is insane.

Fault: He is very paranoid and does not trust at all. He always thinks the worst and often doesn't give the other person a chance to explain. He can be very petty.

Good points: He is very gentle with children. He loves children because he feels safe around them.

What he/she wants more than anything else: To be left alone and to get rid of the crushing guilt he feels after surviving the car accident that killed his parents.

~~~

Tagging with no pressure @theink-stainedfolk , @inseasofgreen , @katenewmanwrites , @kaeru483 , @happypup-kitcat24 and open tag~

[cologona]

If you won some sort of lottery contest and DC allowed you to write a comic run for any character, any topic, no limits, what would your comic be like?

What kinda plot and characters would you want to etch into official DC canon? (Or would you prefer to write an elseworlds kinda thing?)

-redhoodinternaldialectical from the "main" blog

Sorry it took a while to answer this, I got pretty carried away! Jason is my favorite character and the character I know most about, so of course I'd write about him. This is going to be pretty long winded and fanfic-y, hope you don’t mind!

First things first I’m making both UTRH and Lost Days mostly canon again. Jason was a crime lord who did Mean Crime Lord Things for a while and that’s what I’ve decided everyone is referring to when they gesture vaguely to his villainous past.

I’m also bringing back the original “big boob” backstory where Jason makes Bruce laugh on the anniversary of his parents’ death. Catherine was an opioid addict due to illness, Willis was the person who taught Jason about cars (and thus how to jack tires) and Faye Gunn is no longer Jason’s grandma. (I really disliked Ma Gunn’s “redemption” in RHATO.) Just in case, I’m also reiterating Sheila’s role in Jason’s death.

Here’s a few lines I came up with for the Todds:

Jason keeps the letters Willis sent him from prison - the ones Ma Gunn hid- in the same picture frame that holds his Robin graduation photo with Bruce. He loved and resented Willis in equal parts, but mostly he regrets not having gotten more time. It’s all the same with fathers.

Catherine is curled up in bed, her expression is half a grimace. She asks Jason, who is reading a picture-book by her side, to get her ‘medicine’ for her. Jason doesn’t know how else to help her feel better so… that’s exactly what he does. In a moment, he returns with a small heart shaped box and a cup of microwaved soup.

If I can imply in some way that Catherine is in denial about the possibility of her dying I’d like to do that too.

I’m also doing a total overhaul of the All-Caste.

Essence is getting proper Tibetan braids, Ducra is going to wear a khampa chuba instead of her current old coat, and the Acres-of-All are getting reimagined as a towering Ziggurat with all the murals, pillars, curtains, and ornate trim befitting a monastery! The All-caste of memory will be bright and fantastical, but the ruins of the present will be dark and spooky.

Some references for what I'm talking about.

I’m also reframing the “Absolute Evil” part of the All-blades’ description to be an epithet for the Untitled. The sword is not literally judging Goodness and Evilness anymore; now they cut through negative psychic energy Jujutsu Kaisen style. I don’t think I need to spell out a justification for Jason being able to summon them whenever, but for any sticklers I’ll just say it’s because Jason- like the Untitled- has a lot of bad feelings and trace amounts of Dionesium in his system (among assorted other chemicals.)

Since Lost Days is being brought back that means instead of spending an entire 3 years with the All-Caste, Jason only spent a few weeks with them during his world-wide training arc. Ostensibly because a little magic would give him an edge over Batman. Ducra wouldn’t normally just give away powerful magic weapons to any chump with a free weekend, and she knew Jason was dangerous, but since the All-Blades are so specific and the ritual to attain them nigh-unsurvivable she saw an opportunity to use Jason. Sure she's one of the Good Guys, but she's not called a conniving old witch for nothing hoohoo!

Now a few plot ideas for a vague overall mini-arc.

First, Jason goes to ugly lengths to protect or prevent consequences from finding one of his family. Maybe someone threatens their secret identity…? The ‘opponent’ should be someone innocent and/or noble but not easily bought or fought. Maybe Vicki Vale, another Hero, or some kind of wealthy heir. The point is to cast doubt on if Jason’s return to the Bats is really so unquestionably redeeming. Jason has pretty much chosen to betray his morals for them after all.

Then, Jason chooses not to kill a villain who shortly afterwards victimizes more people and skips town before he can get caught. Basically a rehash of Diplomat’s Son except the Garzonas figure gets away. It’s technically a win for Batman- his presence kept Gotham safe after all. But it doesn’t feel like a win, especially not to Jason.

And finally, Jason frames himself for various murders committed by victims against their abusers. Maybe kick the story off with one of Ma Gunn’s boys killing her and telling the cops it was Red Hood in a desperate bid to avoid jail.

Obviously Jason can’t be allowed to do this long-term. It’s a bad precedent to set, an obstruction of justice, etc… Jason hasn’t broken The Big Rule though, and Bruce can only act so sanctimonious when those same complaints could be are made about him as well. There’s no way this ends any other way than Batman running Red Hood out of Gotham again and they both know it, but neither deviates from the path set before them.

One or two “monster of the week” issues where Jason fights various assassins and bounty hunters sent by his more influential enemies might be good- one should occur right after the above story. A consequence for his “return to form” so to speak. Batfamily fans may appreciate a scene where Bruce says something indicating that he ran Jason out for his own safety as well as Gotham’s. Batman may be able to hide in Bruce Wayne’s skin during the day but Jason’s only identity is that of Red Hood, and at times that makes him vulnerable in a way other heroes aren’t. This + some panels contrasting the generic mercenary look of Jason’s guns and equipment with the Bats’ spandex future-tech will be great for showing how separate Jason is from the Bats.

Now while Jason’s out of Gotham again there’s this detail in one of RHATO’s flashbacks that I want to expand on- that being how he used to be able to summon a lot more All-blades.

Red Hood Outlaw 34

“I had a lot of soul back then” - implying that he has a lot less soul now…!?

Jason’s been through a lot, in life sure but also more recently. Fight scenes where the All-blades take the form of daggers would not only be cool and evocative of the wavy dagger Talia gifted him way back when, they’d be good visual sign of his declining emotional state.

Later on as his soul ‘shrinks’ further, I’d give him a pair of mystical guns through which he can channel his All-blades into bullets. If it’s another gift from Talia I’m thinking dark brass revolvers with paisley filigree and a red Endless Knot charm hanging from each handle. If they’re from Essence or S’aru I’m thinking black lacquer and silver cloud-patterned ornamentation, with red coral embedded on either side of the gun. Beautiful Bayonetta-style guns with glowing red veins and a cowboy flair!

antique guns which inspired me

As for what he’s using the All-blades (All-bullets?) for, I think it’d be fun to have Jason exorcising some ghosts. He can solve various murder mysteries, figure out why this place or that person is haunted, and get into fights with horrific otherworldly creatures. Jason is an interesting character to do this premise with because he might just determine that some some spirits should get their revenge, and act on behalf of a ghost rather than erasing it.

I’m not sure whether I’d want to have Essence join him or not… On one hand it only makes sense that Jason would help Isabel and Essence find a way to free themselves from the Blood Blade, and that goal would provide his character with some direction. Then again, Essence/Isabel could be cool as antagonists. Jason might see some ghosts as valid but Essence probably wouldn’t see any merit in appeasing manifestations of lingering resentment. She’s similar to him in that she also turned her back on her family, but she’s different in that she did it because she believed so wholeheartedly in their cause. She’s old and sort of a Jedi, but she’s hot-blooded and she’ll never not be Ducra’s daughter in the same way it seems Jason can never escape Batman’s shadow. I bet she has some real juicy sunk-cost fallacy type thinking too, that’d be fun to dig into.

Anyways I think this is a pretty good set-up to explore the politics/morality of forgiveness. What makes the difference between an injustice and a hatchet that ought to be buried? When is forgiveness empowering and when is it coerced? Who is it that must forgive? Justice vs Revenge, that whole kind of thing.

Other than the supernatural stuff I want Jason working with Talia, and I’m reintroducing Sasha to the post-52 continuity. Duela is getting nixed.

I don’t really have any specific plot ideas for Talia, but I would like to establish Jason as one of her associates. With Lost Days back they have basis for an actual relationship again. They’re not always on the same side but Jason can sometimes do tasks for Talia (outside the purview of Ra’s and the LOA), and Talia can occasionally support Jason with various social power-play type moves.

An instance of Jason getting into a fight with one of the Bats because he’s doing a favor for Talia would be great! I wouldn't write Talia as an evil evil bad horrible dragon lady, so it shouldn’t be a huge blow to Jason’s status as a Good Guy. Also I like the idea of Jason and Talia’s relationship mostly being inferred through their actions supporting one another, rather than directly showing much ‘on-screen’ interaction between them.

Also it’ll be interesting to go into Bruce, Dick, and Damian’s reaction to finding out that they’re not the only ones Jason is loyal to. Bruce thinking Talia was a bad influence on Jason (like fanon), silently frustrated because what he really wants is for Jason to be a full Bat-Believer (like the good old days…). Dick being fine with Jason never falling fully in-line with Bruce, provided that at the end of the day his loyalty belonged to his family.

-brief topical detour to talk about Sasha-

The new timeline of events is that Jason and Sasha met as fellow patients while Jason was in his Vague Villain era. They escaped the hospital building together (Sasha in her bloody dress, and Jason naked save for his skimpy hospital gown dhoti) and having no one else they stuck together. They got close but at some point Sasha lost her memories, giving her a chance at a fresh start. This was around the same time Jason “redeemed” himself and so just like Max Dawkins, ‘Numbers’, and Gabby Christiensen -Sasha became another person from Jason’s past that he didn’t let himself have a relationship with.

Sasha was just old enough that she didn’t have to be sent into foster care, so with some help from Wayne Foundations she got her GED and her feet underneath her. Now… she goes to work, goes to her physical therapy appointments, fights with her mother over the phone, and yes- sometimes she goes to the club.

The new Sasha still has spiky red hair but her face looks entirely normal save for a subtle scar tracing around her jawline and chin- the edges of where her mask used to sit. She wears dark makeup and even darker clothes. She’s prone to false memories and dissociation. She’s lost most of her ability to feel pain. She can’t watch certain shows she used to love anymore because they trigger her. She never returned to Russia. She doesn’t have many friends.

Since this is comics, her reintroduction will come by way of a dramatic fight. Sasha will regain her memories one day and show up out of the blue to fight Jason, angry and heartbroken that he abandoned her. He tries to explain himself but she just says look what they did to my face, referring to the facial reconstructive surgery she was given while amnesiac. She’ll be difficult to fight, not only because being a partial Dollotron gives her enhanced strength but also because she’s being reckless and the longer they fight the more strain and damage her body accrues.

After Jason apologizes and they reconcile (they will both cry) Sasha can become a recurring side character that Jason visits, keeping him grounded and up to date with Gotham. I think it'd be cute for her to bid him farewell by saying she’ll hold the city hostage until he comes back. (Is Sasha going to become Jason’s love interest? No. If I give Jason a love interest it’s going to be Numbers.)

--Going back to the previous topic, I want Sasha’s return to be part of this greater arc of Jason addressing his "shrinking soul" problem. My brain is a little fried now so I’m not exactly sure how but she is related. I think she ought to be.

Jason wants Bruce to be right. He would like for his problem to be fixed by going home and saying sorry. But at the end of my run I want him to face the reality that it’s not about that.

...Perhaps it should be about Jason 'abandoning' Gotham? I don’t really want the final thesis of my run to imply that Jason’s soul would just be fixed if he killed Rogues though, and Jason always came back whenever a big disaster was happening so it doesn't quite fit anyways… Jason does believe in the value of “pure” heroes it’s just not what he’s supposed to be. Whatever his problem's “about” , it ought to prompt Jason to stop taking Bruce’s shit. I'm saying the man is literally breaking Jason's spirit.

I’m sympathetic to Bruce but I wouldn’t write him as a nice father. I would also have scene where a younger Bat accuses Jason of being overdramatic despite 'not even having it the worst’. I don't know who 'has it the worst' but I want to make a statement that you don't need to win the pain-race to be fed up.

Ah anyways, now my brain is really fried. I hope this post was coherent all the way through, I neglected to edit and organize my thoughts as much towards the end. Thank you for asking me such a great question, I had a lot of fun thinking about it! :D

[hildegardladyofbones]

It is so fucking baffling how little care people have when talking about the ussr, even when they're the same people that are super respectful about imperialism, genocide, etc. Not saying they shouldn't be, I'm just wondering where it all goes when the soviet union comes up. Like sure, we're white people, the world isn't systemically against us, not arguing against that, but that doesn't erase the 51 years of dictatorship that we had to live under.

People that barely even know what was happening behind the iron curtain make jokes about stalin, lenin and brežnev. Whenever someone said the word "us" the replies were always "*communism intesifies*", though luckily thay trend seemed to die out. It was disrespectful nevertheless. And if you're from an ex soviet country and say that you don't mind them, good for you, idc. Your opinion doesn't invalidate mine. This not a joking matter. I'm not calling you a bad person if you like those jokes, but the discussion about what was going on is seemingly non existent and we need to have it! People need to at least be aware when they talk about these topics!

I may not have lived through it, but my mom, and her mom did. My grandma has serious hoarding problems now because of the trauma of not having anything. People were afraid to help each other because if you help the wrong person you'll get labeled a traitor. You couldn't escape because you would ruin the life for people that you left behind, because if a family member was against the system then you couldn't get permits for buying cars, let alone moving. There were fucking book burnings. People got sent to siberia for looking at someone wrong. And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

What it was was not communism, it was a dictatorship. So don't call me an anti communist. Instead of doing that, pick up the beauty of history by viivi luik. The English translation is free on the Internet archive. If you can get on your hands on it, read the seventh spring of piece and pay attention because that book you have to read in between the lines.

Tl;Dr respect my (and other people's countries') country's trauma and learn what the school didn't teach you because there's no way that this disrespect would exist if people knew.

[joeyquinndrabz]

Inked- Joseph Quinn x Reader

TW: none im trying to give you guys a break from the angst I have in my drafts 😭

Being a tattoo artist was a dream you’d had since you were a kid. Your friends would laugh and tell you to ‘get real’ but you knew it’s what you wanted to do and so you did. Your grandfather was a tattoo artist in London and became highly respected by the whole city, everyone wanted a tattoo from your grandfather and so did you. When you were 18, he gave you your first tattoo after years of pestering. His talent was impeccable and his art was your inspiration. You soon began an apprenticeship at his shop and , it must be in the genes, because you’re very good at it too. Of course you were aware of the privilege you had due to your grandads high status, but it didn’t mean you didn’t have to work hard. It took years of practice to get to the level you’re at now, but being 28 and working alongside your 68 year old grandad was the gift that kept on giving. His guidance was still so important to you and your relationship was unbreakable. He wasn’t your stereotypical elder male tattoo artist, his style was still the same as it had been in the 70s. Checkered button ups, flares, docs and a very impressive moustache. He was ridiculously cool, your grandma was the same. A stylish woman with a blue rinse on her grey hair and she was always sporting a pair of new glasses. She worked on the front desk, greeting each client with a smile and being the first point of contact to ease that anxiety many of them had. It was a family run business and a great one at that.

It’d been a busy day, it was a Saturday and you’d tattooed a lot of people and a lot of different things. You were getting ready to pack up when your Grandfather could be heard chuckling out in the corridor. There were two different male voices that followed and curiosity killed the cat, you wanted to find out more.

“Ahh this is my wonderful granddaughter I’ve been talking about. She’ll enjoy this one lads.” He chuckled at the two mystery men as he pulled you in for a side hug. “Enjoy what?” You questioned, smiling at the two strangers. “It’s slightly embarrassing but we got very drunk and stick and picked out initials onto each others feet but they’re not looking the best.” One of them told you, you noticed the curtains he was sporting and the slight permanent smirk that was stuck on his face. “Yeah not our brightest idea.” The other man laughed, you noticed something different with this one. He was looking directly at you, admiring your tattoos with each passing of his eyes. It was cute. He was cute.

“Let’s get you lads sorted, I’ll do yours Wesley and Y/N can do Joe’s. I won’t make you do them both kiddo you’ve been here since 6.” Your grandad aimed the last bit at you, you smiled and nodded before taking Joe into your part of the studio.

“I’m really sorry about this, I didn’t know you’d been here that long. I’m more than happy to get it fixed another day.” The man who you now knew as Joe was rambling and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Honestly it’s fine, if you were coming in for a back piece then I would’ve said otherwise but I’m sure we can fix this in no time.” You smiled at him as you handed him the consent forms. “Do people genuinely come in last minute for things like that?” He asked whilst signing all the needed paperwork. “You’d be surprised, we don’t actually do walk ins but my grandads had a rule that if he likes your ‘vibe’ then he’ll allow it in some cases.” This caught Joes attention, looking up at you from the clipboard to give you a massive smile that you could only assume was because he’d realised he met your grandads criteria. “He’s a cool man.” Joe continued to smile as he handed you the papers back. “He’s my favourite discussion point, the man’s a walking, talking 70s masterpiece.” You laughed and soon heard him joining in with you. “I’d kill to have him as my grandad, you’re very lucky.” Joe was admiring the art on the walls, walking closer to his favourites then standing back with a tilted head to take it all in. “I’m forever grateful for him, he’s the reason I do what I do.” You smiled to yourself, getting ready to fix the drunken scribble on his foot. “Looks like you’re pretty bloody good at it too, love.” He turned to face you, admiration on his face. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” You shyly smiled back before asking him all the boring questions required.

Joe was now sat on the tattoo bed, showing you the tattoo in all its glory. “I mean.” You tried to find the words but struggled with a chuckle.

“Yeah I know I think Wes was shaking a little bit.” Joe grimaced before laughing with you. “It’s an easy fix don’t worry, are you okay for me to start?” You asked, in a weird way hoping he’d say no so you had more time to talk to him and hear more about his life. But he was ready, he told you he was more than ready and watched you as you got to work.

“You ok?” Looking up from the W and to Joe, you’d expected him to flinch or say something about the pain but he didn’t. Instead his face was plastered with a picture perfect smile. “Peachy keen darlin’.”

You were aware of the blush spreading on your face so got back to fixing the W and soon you had finished, wiping it down and wrapping it up.

“There we are, all finished.” You beamed and watched as Joe admired it in the mirror. “It’s perfect, thank you so much.” He mirrored your expression, happy there was now some symmetry to his drunken decision. “You’re more than welcome, grandad will sort out the payment and everything when Wesley’s finished.” You explained as you began cleaning up your station.

Soon the pair were at the front desk, paying for their tattoos and laughing with your grandad. You were still cleaning up so hadn’t realised they’d left due to your fixation on making the studio ready for you tomorrow morning.

“Knock,knock.” Your grandad announced his presence and walked in with a massive grin on his face. “What’s got you smiling so wide?” You laughed at his animated demeanour as he slowly approached you with his hands behind his back. He sat on the bench and smirked, before pulling his hands from his back to reveal a piece of paper and five £20 notes. “You got a big tip and a new admirer.” He laughed before handing you the money and the note. “But it was a tiny tattoo?” You were in shock, complete and utter shock.

“Read the note.” Your grandad pressed, leaning forward in anticipation. “Grandad!” You exclaimed,laughing at his eagerness. “Oh Cmon kiddo I’m dying over here.” He laughed back.

You opened the note and scanned the page with your eyes, a smile growing after each letter.

I’m sorry if this is totally inappropriate and i completely understand if you rip this up but just wanted to say I really enjoyed getting tattooed by you today and I’d love to get to know you more. Here’s my number, again I’m sorry if this isn’t appropriate I just think you’re pretty incredible and I’d love to get to know you more.

The tip is because you’re a brilliant artist and I hope you treat yourself with it and get something to help ease the stress of today.

All the best,

Joe

XXX

You grabbed your phone and copied the number into your phone immediately, passing your grandad the note before going outside to ring Joe.

“Hello?” He answered, anxiety evident in his voice.

“I’m leaving here in 10 minutes, fancy sharing a couple glasses of wine with that tip?” You had no idea where this confidence had emerged from but nether the less you were extremely thankful for it.

“Darlin’ that’d be a dream.”

[moon-heart22]

Captured

Warning: Minors do Not interact, brutal death, killing, smut

It's strange how life can change so quickly without you even realising it.

I wanted to spend my holiday alone. I have never liked being around people, so it was only logical that I chose my grandparents' house in the middle of the forest. It was old, but it had everything I needed.

On the way there, my friend called me and asked me if I really wanted to be alone in the forest. To be honest, that might be scary for some people, but I told her I was fine and would call her if anything happened. She did not seem pleased and hung up after a while of talking.

I reached my grandparents' house and opened the front door. The door cracked as I opened it and a familiar smell hit my nose. I have missed being here so much, it feels like my grandparents are still here looking after me. It's been a year since they died mysteriously and no one knows what happened. Their bodies have never been found and there is no sign that they are really dead.

I close the door behind me and shake my head. Everything is still where it was on my last visit last year, before they disappeared. My grandmother's old books are gathering dust and I have to smile. She collected so many random books like a book dragon. Grandma read a lot, but never really because she was so anxious to get more books.

One book catches my eye. "Deities and Creatures"

I pick it up and run my fingers over the cover, which is strangely not as dusty as the other books on the shelf. I get goose bumps, but I shake off the feeling. I put the book back and concentrate on making myself comfortable.

Soon it's 9 pm and I am sitting on the couch watching TV. I used to watch TV with my grandmother, while my grandfather always complained that we should spend more time outside instead of in front of the TV. I often find myself wishing I had spent more time with them, but I can not help it now.

I get hungry and get up when I suddenly hear a loud bang from outside. A strange feeling creeps over me, but I ignore it. It must have been an animal or something else. I am in the house, I am safe. At least that's what I tell myself over and over again.

I am now standing in the kitchen eating a sandwich. I have already forgotten about the loud bang and am just concentrating on the food. A bad habit I had was eating, eating when I am feeling bad, scared, stressed…

My gaze goes to the kitchen window and I have the feeling that I am being watched. Once again I shake my head and try to shake off this strange feeling and take a deep breath. It's just nothing. Everything is fine, I am safe. I whisper to myself again and again. I decide to close the curtains on the kitchen window. My heart almost stops when I see white eyes light up, which disappear again as I get closer to the window.

I immediately draw the curtains and place my hands on my chest. My heart races and I try to think of something else, hoping it will distract me. It does not and I run to all the windows and doors to make sure they are closed. Luckily for me, they are and I take another deep breath.

Then I hear a knock and someone shouts. I feel my heart stop and the blood in my veins run cold. "Help me! Help me!" the voice screams and I hold my breath. I run back into the kitchen and grab my butcher's knife. I slowly approach the front door and my lips part, but I can not muster the strength to speak.

"Please…" the voice sounded like a man and I walk closer to the door. My heart is racing and I finally manage to speak. "Who are you? What happened to you?" my voice shakes as I speak and I hear the man inhale sharply. He seems to be injured because he is groaning in pain. "I got hurt, please help me," he sounds desperate, almost pleading.

I stand in front of the door and lean my ear against it. I do not really know what I am trying to achieve, but I listen. "I have a knife, so if you try anything or lie, you are dead," I warn him and he grunts in response. I unlock the door and open it. He rushes in and is wounded in the chest. I pull him into the house and lock the door again.

"Thanks, I thought you wouldn't open the door," he whispers and looks me in the eye. His eyes are brown and he looks dirty, as if he hasn't washed for a long time. "If you try anything stupid, I'll hurt you," I threaten and he chuckles. There are deep cuts on his arm and on his chest too. I help him to sit down on the couch, my knife still in my hand.

"You know, I'm kind of scared of you. When you hold the knife like that, I think you want to stab me," he chuckles and leans back as he closes his eyes. I still have the knife with me and go to the first aid kit. I start to clean his wounds and bandage them. "How did this happen?" I ask him and sit down on the chair opposite the couch.

He lets out a sigh and touches his arm. He licks his lips and opens his eyes again to look at me. They glow white for a brief second and then immediately turn brown again. It happens so quickly that I don't think much of it.

"I was attacked by a creature, a shame I…" he pauses before he finishes the sentence and shakes his head. He yawns and rubs his eyes. "If you don't mind, I want to sleep now," is all he says before closing his eyes and falling asleep on my couch.

I shake my head anoyed and walk to my bedroom and lock the door. I call my friend and tell her everything that happend today. "You're crazy no way i am letting you alone! I come and get you," she says and stops the call before i can say anything.

I try to sleep, but I can't because I hear a loud crash from the kitchen. I immediately sit up in my bed and look for the butcher's knife. Crap. When I went into my bedroom, I must have forgotten to take it with me. I reach for my phone, unlock my bedroom door and walk into the kitchen.

I hear growling and as I leave, the floor cracks and the growling stops immediately. I freeze and listen, my heart races in my chest and I hold my breath. When I finally pluck up the courage to go into the kitchen, I see the strange man standing there. He's smiling at me, his mouth is full of sauce and he's holding a sausage in his hand.

"What the hell! You scared the shit out of me, you ass!" I shout angrily and try to snatch the sausage out of his hand. He backs away and barks at me. His teeth seem strangely sharp and I pause in my movements. "I was hungry … and don't call me an ass. Call me Adrian," he growls strangely and I look at him angrily.

I want to throw him out of the house, but when I look at him, I feel sorry for him. He looks like he's in pain and seems out of his mind. "Listen Adrian, this is weird, don't get me wrong, but you're scaring me. Could you please sit on the table. I don't mind if you finish eating. But please ask me before you take any food out of the fridge," I say, holding my nose.

I am tired and when Adrian sits down and chews on the sausage like a wild animal, I am disgusted. He seems to have no manners at all and I feel not safe in his presence. I look at the fridge and the next shock runs through me. He really has rummaged through the whole fridge. There's a lot of food on the floor and I sigh. I go into the kitchen and start to tidy everything up.

When I am done, I take a wet cloth and walk towards Adrian. He's still busy eating and startles me. It's as if I am not even here. As I approach him, he finally seems to notice me and looks up. His eyes meet mine and a scream catches in my throat. His eyes are white, his teeth are razor-sharp and instead of fingers he now has claws.

Just at that moment, I hear a loud knock on my door. "Hello, open the door! I swear to God, I will break the door if you do not open it!" my friend shouts. Adrian growls and warns me not to open the door. But I am scared and the first thing I do is run. I run to the door, open it and jump into my friend's arms.

"We have to go!" I shout, grab her hand and run to her car. My friend follows me without complaining and she starts screaming when she sees what's running after us. I do not dare turn around, but the screams and the animalistic noises the creature makes are enough for me. We reach my friend's car and lock ourselves inside.

I feel like crying, and my friend starts crying as she tries to start the car. "We are going to die!" she screams and her car starts. I look outside and try to see where the creature is, but I can not see anything. As she drives off, we hear a loud crash and the car stops. "What was that?" she asks me, startled, and I look at her.

My friend holds my hand and I try to calm her down. "It's going to be okay," I whisper, holding back my tears. I am so scared that I can feel my heart racing in my ears. I look over her shoulder out the window and then I see it. Horns and white eyes staring straight at me. The creature's face is a skull and its claws are touching the window. I scream and my friend turns around and screams too.

The creature rips the door open and my friend and I start kicking the monster. It growls and screams angrily, grabs my friend by the foot and drags her out of the car. "No! Please!" she screams and grabs my hand, whereupon we are both pulled out. I cry and my friend starts screaming because the monster is biting her foot. "No! Let her go!" I scream and lunge at the monster. It growls and pushes me to the ground.

"If you do this again, you will be dead next," the creature growls in a strangely familiar voice. Holy shit. Of course it's Adrian. Why do I have to be so stupid and let monsters into my house. I will think about it later, if I get out of here alive. I kick Adrian, or at least I think I do, I am not sure, and he growls again.

"Die you sick fuck!" I hear my friend scream and she hits him in the face with a stone. His skull makes a cracking sound and he gets off of me, only to attack my friend and bite into her throat. I see her trying to free herself and she crys. Then he rips of her head. "No! You bastard", i scream and run towards him punching his back.

He growls again and pushes me down on the ground. Blood drips down on my face from his skull and he opens his mouth. A bloodied tongue darting out and licking of the blood from my face. I already feel dead. I wish he would kill me and end this fucking horror show but he doesn't. He smiles down at me when he cleaned my face.

"Get up. Go back into the house", he demands and gets of off me. I crawl away and see him starting to eat my friend. "No!", i scream and want to throw up. He turns around and looks angry at me. "I wouldn't say it again", he warns me. I cry and somehow make it back to the house. I feel so sick and throw up on the porch.

I cry and all i want to do now is to die. How could this happen. I think about Adrian or whatever he is eating my friend right now and i nearly vomit again. Something inside me starts to burn and i guess it's anger. I get up my legs shaking and i lock the door behind me. I am going to killl this fucking creature. I search for the butcher knife and while i do i hear loud knocking comming from the front door.

"Open up little mouse," Adrian growls. He sounds angry. Well i am also angry. I don't answer and the knocks turn into banging. "Open the fucking door! Don't make me more angry mouse," he warns me. I find my butcher knife and get to the door. "No, please don't be angry. I...will open the door," i whisper and hold my butcher knife up. I only have one change and i don't give a shit anymore.

Adrian sounds happy and probably thinks he has wone. When i open the door, he is normal human looking but covered in blood. I scream and stab him with the knife. He screams and pushes me into the house. "That was a mistake little one," he growls and changes. Horns and a skull are now there instead of his face and instead of his fingers claws.

He pulls the knife out of his chest and throws it to the ground. I try to get up but he is faster and pushes me down. "I wanted to do this differntly but it seems like i have to teach you how to behave," he chuckles and there is a dangerous under tone in his voice. His claws travel down my curves and i automaticly clench my thighs together.

"What the fuck do you want from me," i whimper and look up into his white eyes. His horns are brown and when i look closer at him he also has white fur. Around his neck are necklaces made out of wood. His claws dig into my thighs and he presses my thighs appart and puts my legs around his waist. "I want to eat you," Adrian whispers huskily and licks over my face. I look away and start to cry wich makes him laugh.

His snout nudges against my cheek and he licks over my cheek again. "Don't worry. Not in that way," he chuckles and licks over my cheek again. He rips my pants appart and i start to kick with my feet. "No! No you're not going to touch me!," i start to scream and whimper. He holds my feet down and snarls. He bites down on my shoulder as a warning and i stop to kick around. Only then he lets go and licks over my shoulder.

"I hate you Adrian! I hope you die!," i spit into his face and he only chuckles. His claws brush over my thighs and he rips of the rest of my clothes leaving me complitly naked infront of him. "I am so glad you're grandparents were ready to promise you to me. It's not like they had a choice though," he chuckles and his one hand holds my face while his other holds my hips. He licks down my chest over my nippels and over my lower belly. Dangerously close to my crotch.

My mind races and i whimper. I try to clench my thighs together and i want to bite his hand. I hate him so much and my grandparents would never do this. They loved me right? It makes him chuckle and he starts to part my folds. "Little mouse, you have to calm down. It will hurt if i can't prepare you like i should," he whispers huskily and his long tongue licks over my core.

I hate this feeling and it only seems to incite him even more. I hold my mouth closed to not make any sounds but my body betrays me. I feel my legs twitch and my core getting wet. I feel dead inside and want this to be over. Adrian growls happily while abusing my pussy with his tongue. My hatred for him only grows and i am not even sure if i am really here. I start to think like this is a nightmare.

He gently bites down on my clit and i whimper. "Did that hurt little mouse?," he ask sarcastically and his tongue pushes into me. I scream and start to fight back again. I feel my climax aproaching and my head is spinning. My hands grab his horns and he groans. My legs shake uncontrollaby and i reach my climax. He licks me clean and moves up to face me again. "Didn't that feel good my little mouse," he asks me and i feel his bulge pressing against me.

I feel so weak, so tired. When i don't respond to him he nudges me with his snout. "Did i make you cum so hard that you're tired now? Well i guess i let you sleep for now," he whispers and pulls me up and presses me against him. Adrian carries me to my bedroom and lays me down on the bed. He licks over the bite mark on my shoulder and smiles. The last thing that i see before i fall asleep are his brown eyes that look into mine and the last thing that i feel is him strocking my cheek.

I hope you enjoyed the story. I don't know if I can do a second part and please forgive me for my spelling mistakes. English is not my first language

[tj-crochets]

So, some backstory. I have been trying to get the measurements to make this curtain (and the second, yet to be made curtain) for my grandma for three months. I finally got the window measurements when my mom went to visit her for her birthday, and my mom said to add a few inches to the window measurements to make sure the curtains fully cover the windows. I sent my grandma this picture, and she called me to tell me I “hadn’t accounted for billowing” and that curtains need to be much wider than windows so they can billow??? I talked her into accepting this curtain as-is so she can try it and see how much wider she wants the final curtain, and then I can use the ratio of the first curtain to the replacement to figure out the dimensions of the curtain for the second window

The curtain for my grandma’s door is almost done!! All I have to do is sew closed the opening for turning, wash it, and get it in the mail to my grandma

[callialire]

5 Stages of Grief

These words were mostly inspired by my little sister complaining how I never stop talking about the stages of grief. So, without further ado…

The 5 Stages of Grief

Stage 1. Casseroles and Door Dash Gift Cards

The way to the heart is through the stomach… or something like that. So, it makes sense that a full stomach heals a broken heart. So you buy paper plates and plastic forks and you eat yourself sick of fast food in foil containers that’s your neighbor bought you. And you’re grateful because there are no dishes and you’re still just alive enough to need to eat. But, at the end, your stomach is full but your heart is laid out next to you, still in too many pieces to count. Your stomach is full and you’re still feeling empty. And now you owe your neighbor a thank you card. Oh, and he’s still dead. Right?

Stage 2. Your Little Sister Wants to Fist Fight You in a Parking Lot

You can’t say anything funny and you can’t say anything sad. You can’t be helpful, you can’t be bitter. Because somebody gave the 15 year old a knife and she aims to draw blood. Because you want to plaster everybody in Band-Aids and ACE bandages and you’ve got boxes of tissues and if you slow down for a minute or a second or a breath and a blink, you’ll start crying and you’ll never stop. But she, previously all linen and light, now of steel and stone, she wants to yell. She wants to beat the earth to dust and she is mad and she doesn’t know why and she can’t stop even if she tried— which she totally isn’t trying. So you don’t say anything funny or sad, you stand there vibrating at low frequency while she throws her rocks and stomps her feet because her chest aches just like yours.

Stage 3. You Learn How to Fold a Fitted Sheet

Your mom cries and she wants the towels in the hall closet. But, the hall closet has light bulbs and old curtains and an air mattress with a leak. The towels don’t fit because they haven’t had a place there in 9 years. So, you pull it all out. And you throw away the clutter. You work pillow cases into perfect little squares, you find a bag of saltines. And you learn how to fold fitted sheets. It takes 45 minutes and you think this might be what actually breaks your spirit until you’re looking down at the neat rectangle in your hands and never before has a bed sheet made your heart squeeze like that.

Stage 4. Queue the Crisis of Faith

You and God— it’s never been the best. It’s not that he doesn’t try, you always think, you’re just a young woman of show and not just tell. You think he’s still up there but, it’s safe to say the two of you don’t talk very often. Maybe you should. He always did. But, you do then. For two weeks, you beg and you plead and you scream into the front windshield of your car. You call in a favor from you grandma (another reason you’re not on great terms because what the fuck was that). You talk to him in line at the grocery store, while you lay in bed with your daughter. You tell him that you need this one, you need this win. You promise not to need anything ever again. You read the Bible. He dies anyways, still singing holy praise. What the fuck is that about?

Stage 5. It Ends the Same Anyways

You know he’s dead. You go to sleep and he is dead. He’s still dead when you wake up. You play the last two weeks over and over again. He dies again and again. It is inevitable, it’s already spoken into the air. Air he doesn’t breathe because he is dead. You look for smiles he’ll never throw your way again. You listen for sounds you’ll never hear again. You wait with fingers knotted in fear you’ll never feel again, because he is at peace. He rests and you breathe, in and out with lungs that feel broken. He is woven into the wood grain and the popcorn ceilings and the chipped paint now. It ends this way every night, it starts this way every morning. He is dead, maybe one day, that will stop being a surprise. Not today, though. Not tonight. But, soon. He would never let you hurt forever.

[zenoiredottore]

Hoyofam at home – brainrot headcannons

ZZZ

a baby

is currently being potty trained

Likes to help with the more pleasant chores

Starting to grow silver/gray hair like wise

Hogs the big screen tv and forces everyone to watch starlight knight with them.

T O Y  G U N S

NOT an ipad kid,, more of a tv kid since they like watching movies sm

The coolest kid's room you will ever see. there are a lot of toys and plushies

Diaper only type kid at home

L O U D

Has a robot nanny that’s just kinda there cuz SR thought it’d be cool

an entire crew dedicated to clean up after him

Spends a lot of time with their siblings, often getting to play with new products

Makes a huge mess when eating

Has its own art studio, fridge-worthy pieces of art  

DO NOT let into your room if you have action figures/plushies.

Very fascinated by computer stuff.

When they grow up they’re going to be the designated tech guy of the fam.

Themis:

Prettiest room

The largest closet and bathroom

Has both a work desk and a vanity.

Has those curtain thingys on her bed [princess bed]

Very colorful but it’s mostly pink and white

Has a couple of shrubs

Make up and skincare galore

Likes baking and the kitchen always smells good

Softest bed ever

Has a seating area by her window, like sofia the first’s

Likes to go shopping with Hi3

Reuses luxury packaging like reusable plastic bags.

Often uses said packaging as trash bags

Sleeps like aurora [perfect hair, perfume, back flat on the bed]

Likes to put food and cleaning products into their own cute containers [she’s just that girl]

Hi3:

Room’s a bit messy

Wears glasses at home [like the thick framed red ones]

Grandma fit [Bestidas with the fuzzy slippers]

Eats ALLAT

The gym is her sanctuary  

Can lift the most weights out of everyone

Zero percent brain cells when at home

She works out in her bestidas lolol

“Don’t talk to me before I have my coffee:p” Ahhss…

I like to think that she’s supposed to be retired but she keeps getting called to the office

Spends her days relaxing [cuz god knows kiana needs rest and so does hi3]

Has motivational quotes framed and hung in the hallways, themis always takes them down.

Second biggest closet

Spends a lot of time at her workshop designing mech suits as she pleases without the company filling down her creativity

Takes zzz to go visit the others at work

Long list of things she wants to do during retirement

Def doing a lot of “childish” activities [like lazer tag, bouncy castle, go karts, ball pits] because she felt like she lost a huge chunk of her childhood working. And when she got a bit of free time to have more fun she had to take care of genshin and themis.

Hangs out at the pool almost every day.

At home spa

Has this soap opera that she watches at 3 pm every day and ZZZ joins her.

HSR:

GAMER room

Has all the games you can think of [arcade, pc, playstation, mobile, you get it]

Mixes gamer food together…

Regularly makes battery acid

Doritos every where

His bed is levitated and under his bed is like a treasure trove of game stuff [merch,tapes,disks]

Doesn’t let housekeeping in, scared that something might break or get deleted.

Room STANK and STICKY

his closet includes multiple copies of the same thing, aside from meme shirts that he occasionally buys online somewhere.

Spends a lot of the money he earns on online games

Wears graphic themed video game underwear

Has a claw machine in his room that he can’t get prizes off of.

Games all night and complains about how he’s too tired to go to work

His shower is DRY

I like to think that even if he doesn’t shower often, he’ll still brush his teeth

Naps immediately when he gets home and repeats the entire thing, learning absolutely nothing.

Actually enjoys his job but there’s only so much energy drinks in the world for him

Likes designing new characters and kits

Absolutely loves his fanbase

Genshin:

Often gets to work earlier than everyone else

But if he feels like going with his siblings he’ll impatiently wait for them and yell n stuff

Doesn’t drink coffee believe it or not [only monsters can go to work at 5 am without having any caffeine and I think this fits him very much

Sometimes goes out for dinner alone when he’s planning on working extra time at the office

The best cook out of all the siblings. [things that genshin just does the best]

Doesn’t cook often but if someone asks him to make something he’ll get it right on his first try 80% of the time

Has a pet horse

Almost never at home

Business trips abroad often

Seeing him in regular casual clothes is like seeing a unicorn.

Probably has a skin condition where if he’s touching cheap fabric he’ll have skin rashes

Handles and prepares live sea creatures for dinner way too casually.

Once killed a live chicken that was running around the house by throwing a skewer through its head

Doesn’t like cleaning and will have the help pick up after him… he’s just snobby like that

No social life outside of work and business related matters

ZERO friends

Ig PJR is kind of a friend but they’re more so rivals

Every day is bring ZZZ to work day.

Sends ZZZ back home whenever they start getting sleepy

Works at the hoyoverse building, same with Themis and SR and whenever he finishes early he’d go hangout with them a bit

Doesn’t work out but does a lot of outdoor activities

Wishes he has more of an outdoorsy job

Regular movie nights and family vacations together

Always spend time with each other on weekends, all of them. Hi3 says that there will be zero working on weekends. But even when he’s not working he’s still wearing suits. [Genshin breaks this rule a lot]

Closet filled with suits!!!

Owns way too many watches that he never uses to tell the time

Fancy tie clip collection

The shoes are DAPPER

His perfume collection makes me jealous

God I hate this jerk sm

Never uses his phone to look at social media [he never listens to his fan’s opinions…]

[hoodievixen]

With My Own Eyes - Part 6 - Full Moon (Dream of the Endless x OC)

Based off of this

Summary: Morpheus just wanted to keep his soulmate safe. She just wanted to make her own decisions. Doesn't help that he doesn't show her his face.

Words Count: ~ 1.5 K

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, witchcraft, bad grammar and even worse spelling, !Comic Spoilers!

A/N: It took me so long to write like the last thousand words. But I got it done. Happy Holidays!

Tag List:   @intothesoul @  poemfreak306  ​

Master List

Dream was concerned. Lily had yet to come greet him that morning. Lately, even if she had plans or if he was busy, she'd come to wish him a good day shortly after getting up. But it was late afternoon and Sibyl was no where to be seen. She had also turned in early the night before. Dream saught her out, wanting to assure she was safe.

Lily had yet to leave bed, however she was not asleep. She layed there stiffly, eyes squeezes shut, face scrunched into a scowl. "Are you unwell?" he softly ask. Clearly it was so, but he learned Sibyl was a bit unpredictable, so it's best to clarify.

"It's nothing new," she said softly, as if talking any louder would cause more pain. "Could you do me a favor and get rid of the light. I have a splitting headache."

It took Dream only a moment to close the blind, and for the ceiling to become something that didn't mimic the sky. What light there was was just the sunshine slipping through the gaps of the curtains.

Morpheus approached Sibyl, crouching down next to the bed to see her face. Her eyes had opened and was staring at him, though it didn't appear she was focusing her gaze on anything. "Is there anything else you wish for me to do?" he asked brushing stray hairs out of her face.

It appeared Sibyl was going to shale her head, but knew it better not to just moments before. "No," she answered simply. Lily hadn't moved a muscle since Dream arrived. She stayed in her stiff curled up position.

But her hands, tucked close to her chest were moving. Her fingers were slowly curling in only to slowly curl out. It a a methodical movement, matching her breath. This was something she was practiced in.

"May I ask what is ailing you?" Dream wondered. Healing was not one of his capabilities, but he was able to provide assistance in any way he could.

Her eyes slid closed once again. "Magic has a price, and this is mine to pay," she explained.

Dream thought back to the conversation he had last evening with Matthew. He had asked her to show him some magic. Other denizens of the Dreaming saw as well, and wanted to see more. Lily had spent most of the afternoon preforming magic. It was his people who cause her current condition, he would help how he could. "And what price might that be?" He needed to know what was wrong to be able to help.

"Pain," Sibyl said in a groan. "Pain and tightness in my joints and muscles, making it hard to move. It's never been this bad before."

If Dream had breath it would have been caught. He knew for human magic had a cost, but never knew how big a cost it would be. The witches get their magic from their connection to the nature around them. The nature of the dreaming was very different to the nature of the waking world. Surely preforming magic here would take a larger toll on the one preforming it. Had Dream realized this earlier he would have forbid her from doing Witchcraft. From letting herself get in such a state.

Morpheus slipped his hand into Sibyl's holding her fingers open. "Is the price always this steep?" he asked softly.

"It's the price I chose," the witch confessed, "My grandma lost her hearing and my aunt could no longer walk. I didn't care how hard anything got, as long as I didn't loose anything."

She was a stubborn human. "You chose to continue to pay a price you could have payed once?" Dream pointed out, almost scolded.

Lily let out a soft and painful laugh. "Hey, everyone going for subscription plans these days. I was just ahead of the trend." She curled her fingers into his, grasping at his hand.

Morpheus was amazed by the fragile hand curled around his own. "What can I do to help?" He kept his voice soft.

"I got it," Lily assured him, "I just have to stretch, it's just hard to start."

He let out a sigh in disappointment. "There is no harm in asking me for help," Dream reminded her, "There is nothing I shall ever hold over you."

Dream moved slowly and with gentle intentions. His one hand stayed curled with her's. His other slipped under her elbow, slightly prompting it up. "Stop me if it hurts," he told her, while slowly starting to bend her arm as her elbow.

Lily scrunched up her face and pressed her lips together. Though she showed no other signs of pain.

Dream held her arm at ninety degrees for a moment before slowly moving it back down. With the blanket now shifted off her arms he could see that she wore short sleeves, something she had yet to do around him. Dream saw all the tattoos that covered her arms, from quotes to little doodles she might come to regret. But what caught his attention the most was is own name, Dream of The Endless, Lily's soulmark.

Dream had almost forgotten the fact on that was what brought them together. He had come to enjoy and crave Lily's company. It felt like he had her around cause he wanted her there, not for the fact they were fated partners.

But it was still love. Something he has never had any luck in. Dream didn't want to loose Lily, and would do anything to assure he wouldn't.

Sibyl's finger grew tighter around his fingers. It was not a tight grip due to the weakness in her fingers, but it was stronger than before. Dream was reminded of what he was doing.

"I don't remember the last time I had someone do this," she confessed. "The last time someone helped. I always needed to deal with it on my own."

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

Just cause Sibyl could move did not mean she wanted to. She made herself shuffle about the room, stretching as she went. After enough movement she retrieved her jacket from where she ladt discarded it. She then flopped down onto the couch prepared not to move from that spot for a while. She started digging into her deep pockets. Why have a purse when you have pockets?

In the left pocket was her keys, spare headphones, a broken phone charger, an empty pack of gum, a receipt from grocery shopping from five months ago, as well as a pile of loose change.

"What are you looking for?" Morpheus asked upon seeing the pile of object taken from her jacket. He sat down a cup of tea I front of Sibyl.

"I keep a bottle of pain meds in here somewhere," she told him. Her right pocket held a half off coupon for canvases that expired the week before, a thin wallet for her cards and a few pound notes, a pack of tissues, a single pad, and a mini note book that was both torn and water stained rendering it practically useless.

Morpheus sat down on the other end of the couch. "I could have brought them to you," he pointed out.

Sibyl shook her head going to the pockets in the lining of her jacket. "I have a rule that I need to get the meds myself otherwise I'll take them and not move and get stuck in a visiohs cycle of doing nothing," she explained, pulling at the last few items. First was a small amulet to ward of curses, an amithyst, a few pressed flowers, the knife she had drawn at Morpheus at their first meeting, and, finally, a small white bottle with a fading label.

Sibyl was quick to take a pill, washing it down with the warm cup of tea.. She leaned back into the couch, letting the beverage's heat soak into her hands.

"How is your hand?" Morpheus asked. Lily noticed his attention was stuck in her knife. The same knife she used to cut herself to make the circle for the teleportation magic.

Lily looked down at the cup of tea surrounded by her hand. "Oh, it's fine," she shrugged, "I tend to heal pretty quickly for stuff like that.*

"If I may ask," he started, reaching for the lengthy dagger. "Why do carry around such a thing?" Morpheus pulled the blade from its leather cover.

Sibyl let out a soft groan. "Well it was a gift from a friend. It was her way of showing she cares. I'd tend to get myself into precarious situations, and she was familiar with my hesitence to preform magic, so she wanted me to have any other way out. One side is silver and the other side is iron, so it can hurt pretty much anything."

Dream returned the knife to where it once was. He had hoped it was just for a precaution, for worries and not because of things that had already happens. It wasn't so. It was nessicary for her. She needed another way to protect herself. Lily was human, who die so easily, where her magic causes her pain. He should always be there to protect her.

[zestywaffles]

things about my *sigh* INTP uncle

used to work as an engineer for an aerospace company

now lives with his mother, taking care of her

✨✨duct tape✨✨

studies Hebrew and enjoys teaching the family little tid-bits of interesting info and connections to things and stuff

i have never seen someone not care about their physical surroundings as much as he does. like nothing compares. absolutely no care. whatsoever

practically LIVES in the dark, all the curtains are always closed (grandma is too old to be aware), lights are always off, the house feels like a cave, i just... [internal screaming]

kinda tries to clean but that house has never smelled good my entire life

okay i’ll stop ranting about living conditions now...

uhhhh

grandma is his favorite person in the whole world. living proof that an INTP can show love and affection. super gentle and kind to her, tends to every need she has.

his love language is acts of service for sure

hates coffee, calls it bean water lol

wears the super cheap black tennis shoes and guess what’s keeping them together?

sigh

duct tape

...

still hasn’t realized that words hurt people, i think my whole family has been bruised by him at some point

P O L I T I C A L   C O N S P I R I S Y  T H E O R I E S

WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE IN DECEMBER

COVID 19 IS A BIG COVERUP

ThE APocoLIPsE iS COMiNg

now my mom is convinced the end of the world is around the corner. 

lives organic, swears by it

he absolutely REFUSES to follow a recipe exactly.

yeah, did i mention he cooks?

it’s mid but i’ll cover it up with italics so i’m not being mean

almost completely lives on solar that he installed himself

what are vegetables?

only drinks Taheebo tea, he doesn’t drink water. at all. guys, i’m being serious.

“Taheebo tea will cure cancer” - my intp uncle (2022)

literally put a brand new thermostat on the wall without taking off the packaging. 

proof: 

I'm making one for every type. you can find my completed ones in #things about my mbti fm

[lolamarlowe65]

𝓘𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 //James Hetfield

“The house next door was just sold, i hope the new neighbour will be nice.”

part five of ? part four

disclaimers : smut, age gap (modern day james), slow burn shit, cursing, smoking, drugs (legal where she is), probably drinking, big girls shit baby dni

Wattpad link

࿓ 𓋪・𖧹 𖤐

Chapter 5 - The package

I woke up early this morning.

I was supposed to work but Pamela called me telling me she will not open the pharmacy today. Apparently, she got some personal problems. Well, it's cool, it gives me more time to take care of my grandmother.

When I see my half naked body under the blanket I remind myself about the sudden act of lust that came over me last night. I couldn't control it. I needed it. I was meant to do it. James has bewitched me in a way. I never had such sexual desire.

Opening my curtains, I remind myself about what I saw last night. His back, his tattoos, his arms. All of which led to this lewd moment of mine. It's so toxic of me to have watched him like that. A little more and I would have seen him completely exposed. I'm not like that. But I did it anyway. And I kind of regret not seeing more. Fuck.

Still, I want more. I want him. Completely. I don't know if i can leave this being a lingering thought in my mind. I shouldn't do anything about it. But I want to.

I get back to my mind and go to take a quick shower. I dress in some flare pants and a rolling stone shirt. When I got back to my room I heard some loud noises coming from outside. I hope my grandmother is not still sleeping, I would be mad if her sleep was disturbed. James or not.

I looked out the window. The workers were still here moving stuff in. I stayed at my window a little more hoping to see James. I notice the garage on the side of the house is open. I can't see clearly because it's a little bit far but there he is. I froze. He was in those usual beautiful black jeans. In a tight black motörhead shirt. The morning sun was creeping on him and made the outline of his biceps so obvious.

Those arms.

Lust or love. I don't know. I truly don't. But I can't keep away. Every inch of him, all of which makes me feral.

He is working on his Camaro. I wish I was a Camaro.

"- Ann! Sweetheart!" my grandma yelled.

I snapped out of my thoughts and got downstairs to my grandmother's room. She was not here.

"- Grandma?!" i yelled back.

"- I'm in the kitchen my love." she replied.

I got to the kitchen and saw her.

"- Grandma! Hey!" i said, reassured.

"- Can you make me some coffee sweetheart? My leg hurts me too much I can't stand up." she asked sweetly.

"- Of course grandma. Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"- You seem to sleep so much better these last few days darling. I want you to get as much as you can." she replied.

I know why I sleep better. My mind is occupied with James so much, the sadness that fills me generally due to my mother's death has slowed down. I still feel the worst. I miss her so much. But I see a little bit of light and peace thinking about him. My interest in him gives me hope for myself and for seeing more of this life I've been leading blindly the past few years.

I go and make coffee for my grandmother. I also prepared some oatmeal for her.

While the coffee is warming up I go and hug my grandmother from the back. I take her shoulders between my arms and I look over the journal she's reading.

"- A war. Inflation. Economy is falling apart. Our army is killing people in the middle east. Jimi Hendrix is still dead. The usual." i say. "How can you read such dreadful words?"

"- It reminds me to live every minute fully and to never think too much about anything sweetheart." she replies, grabbing my arms sweetly. "Which is something you should learn. If there is one thing you should get out of the last few years, it is that life is too short and you should do just what you want to do my dear." she added.

"- But what if i what i want to do is badly seen, or badly interpreted?" i say, doubtedly.

"- Well, to hell with everybody's mind. You and the people you are doing that with are the only ones that know what is going on sweetheart."

She takes my hand and I understand she will not change her mind about this. She seems like a sweet old lady but don't fuck with her. She'll beat you up. But I know deep down that she's right. I just don't know how to proceed it.

I let out of my grandmother's grip and got her coffee on the table.

"- The noise of the neighbour didn't bother you?" i ask.

"- No. Everything's good, it's normal to make noise when you move in darling." my grandma answers.

We eat some breakfast together and my grandmother then say.

"- Sweetheart, my birthday is coming up soon. Me and Stacy invited all my friends, I also invited Pamela and her husband. I think we should invite James too." said my grandmother excitedly.

James? Huh yes, no. I don't know.

"- Do you think he might want to come over? Such a nice gentleman, I would love him to be there." she continued.

"- I'll ask him when I have the time, grandma." i replied.

I was paralysed at the idea of seeing James again. Mostly to invite him to my home.

"- Oh honey, I feel that he is exactly how I remind him. A sweet, nice young man." she said.

Young man? He is way younger than my grandmother, that's for sure. She could be his mom. But to me he is a middle aged man. He is in his late 50s if I remember. You would think it is a good enough reason for me to back down from my dirty and romantic thoughts about him. But no. If so, it makes it more exciting. I don't know what I would have felt if I met James when he was younger. But something in me tells me I would have had the same reaction. That it's not about his age but who he is.

"- Well, i'll ask him when i see him." i tell my grandma.

"- I'll ask him too if i see him." she replied.

Now I'm sure he will be invited.

After breakfast, my grandmother asked me to help her get to the backyard. She wanted to go take care of her flowers. My grandma settled herself in the yard and started gardening. I sat down on a chair next to her. I light a cigarette. I need it. The noises from earlier were not here anymore. Perhaps the workers finished moving in James's stuff. I wonder if he is still working in his garage.

"- These flowers are so gorgeous sweetheart. Those dahlias remind me of your mother. Oh. And those hydrangeas remind me of your grandfather. And you. You are a dandelion. A beautiful bright dandelion my love." she said sweetly.

The dahlias did remind me of my mother. They were her favourites. They also were the last flowers I gave her before she died. Every time I go to her grave I put on dahlias. I'll get a tattoo of a dahlia one day. I take a drag of my cigarette, those thoughts making me more sad than anything.

A voice approached behind me.

"- You have a beautiful garden France."

I turned around and knew it was James. His voice was just too mesmerising to be forgotten. He was holding a package in hands. He smiled at me.

"- Hello Anna."

"- Hey... Mr Hetfield."

It was of use to use his last name since he decided to drive me crazy calling me by my full first name.

You could access our garden by a little path on the side of the house, not only by the inside. James probably heard us in the garden and came by the path.

"- A package for you was delivered at my place, the number of the house is badly written, they must have thought it was for me." continued James.

My grandma turned around.

"- Oh that is so sweet of you. You can put it on the porch. Ann will take it in a minute. Thank you." she said to James, happily.

The light was still doing a wonderful work on his biceps and his shirt still shaped his shoulders so beautifully. He put the package on the porch and came back to the conversation.

I helped my grandma get up from her flower patch. I'm pretty sure she wants to ask him about her birthday party.

"- Anna, you remind me of those beautiful dandelions your grandmother has right here." he said.

I froze. I was red. How did he know? Or why was I making him think of dandelions? And did he just call me beautiful? And again, my name.

"- And France, you are as bright as those peonies." he laughed lightly.

"- Oh James dear, don't make me blush." my grandma laughed. "How is the moving going?" she then asked.

"- Pretty well. I was just tidying up my garage. The car needed some work." he replied.

"- This beautiful Camaro?"

"- Yes. I've always loved this car." he continued.

"- You were just a little thing when this was made James. But me. I saw it when it was just out. Oh, one of my ex-boyfriends had one. A gold coloured one. He was an ass but i loved his car." she reminded.

James smiled at my grandma, loving her story.

I haven't said a word. But James gives me some quick looks and smiles here and there while talking to my grandma. I do too. I don't know why he does it but I know why I do it. Because he looks so magnetising. I feel like a teenage girl having her first crush.

"- Oh yes. James. My birthday is coming up soon. I would like to invite you and your wife over. I am organising a little gathering." my grandma exclaimed.

I know my grandmother just said wife because she wanted to know more about his situation. What did Stacy tell me already? Argh I don't remember. But he must be seeing somebody. There's no way he is single.

"- Well actually I'm single. I don't have a wife. Not even a girlfriend." James replied, passing a hand in his hair.

Oh my god. This doesn't make it easy for me at all. What do you mean he doesn't have somebody in his life??! A man looking like him. With such a charming aura? I smiled shyly at James trying to proceed with everything my heart was telling me to do that my morals were not loving. He noticed it and smiled back. I hate this game of cat and mouse, mostly when I don't know which one of them I am. I hope deep down that he catches me.

"- But I do have time in the next few weeks before the big rush with the band. I'll come gladly. Do you need me to bring anything?" he then asked.

"- Just bring your handsome face James that's all!" my grandma replied with a smile.

My grandmother talks to him like she would talk to a little boy. I mean he could be her son but it startles me a little. She doesn't have her daughter anymore, I guess she misses those kinds of light talk she could have with my mom.

He laughed.

"- Alright, I'll do my best." he then said. "Well ladies, I need to get back. I've got a studio session with the boys."

"- I'm glad you are doing well with your music Mr. Hetfield. I hope Lars is not as childish as before." she added.

"- How do you know that France?" James replied, chuckling.

"- Well, you came into the store I was working in when you all were younger. In 84? I think. You were as nice as a gentleman as before and Cliff and Kirk were just sweethearts. But Lars looked like an hyperactive kid your mom obliged you to take out." she laughed. "I always wondered if he was into some kind of drug or if he was just naturally like this." she smiled.

I was so out of the conversation. Who the fuck were Cliff, Kirk and Lars? Probably his band members, yes, but who does what in this fucking band? I don't know.

"- I should have remembered such a nice lady like you ma'am!" James said nicely. "But unfortunately Lars is always like this. I'm sorry you had to see that." he laughed.

This Lars seems like a grandiloquent character for sure.

"- Have a good day France." he waved at her goodbye.

His eyes locked into mine.

"- Beautiful day to you too." he suspended. "Anna."

"- Bye Mr. Hetfield." i reply.

I'll call him Mr. Hetfield until he stops calling me Anna. Actually I don't know if I want him to stop. And I truly love his last name, so I don't think I want to stop either. He smiled at me one last time. I thought he was cute.

We got back inside the house. I took the package on the porch. I didn't notice at first but on the package for my grandmother was another little one with just written "Anna" on it. I knew it was from James. I put it away quickly in my room before going back down to open the one for my grandmother. It was some gardening tools for her flowers. She needed new ones and couldn't walk too much to get to the store so I decided it was better to just order them. She was ravished. She used them the whole afternoon and made sure her flowers were in good shape. We then ate dinner and she got to bed early. I wanted to get to my room and listen to music and clean up a little. My grandmother's bedroom is on the first floor. The walls of this house are thick so I can listen to music without bothering her. On the second floor there was only a bathroom, my room and my mother's but nobody was allowed in it except me and my grandma.

I got to my room and saw the package from James on my bed. I open it and get a cassette out of it. It's a cassette of the Doors. L.A Woman. With an autograph of Jim Morrison on the front. A little word was left in the package.

"To Anna : "I found this in my music collection, I thought a Doors type of girl could have better use of it than me. I hope it will give you one of those beautiful smiles you have the secret of." - James."

Fuck. I lay back on my bed with the cassette and the word in my hand that I hold above my head. I'm blushing so hard. So he did call me beautiful earlier. What is going on? Why does he make me feel so confused? Why does it look that he is having as much of a hard time as me to hold this tension between us. If so, he seems to manage it less well. Am I giving myself ideas? No. Yes. Fuck this shit man. I want so much of him. But I mostly want to know him more, in every field. I'm all flustered and blushing. As much as when I humped my pillow thinking about him last night.

I put the word on my nightstand and I got up to get to the cupboard in the corridor. It's where my grandma keeps some of the stuff she used when she was younger. I know there is a cassette player from the early 70s in here. I'm sure the cassette will fit in there.

Got it. I go back to my room and play the cassette. It starts playing and the sound is old and cracky. Just like I want it to be. I decided that i wanted to smoke weed, i know i've got a joint left in my nightstand's drawer. I get it and light it. "Love Her Madly" my favourite song, starts playing and I can't help but dance incoherently in my room. It's like the world disappeared. I dance while smoking and the only thought that came to me was James. Him holding me by my waist while I dance would be the perfect addition to my little party. I wish someone would love me as madly as Jim describes in this song sometimes. When my mom was alive I thought so much more of romance. Today I didn't. Nobody picked my interest. Until James.

I picked up the cassette packaging with Jim's autograph on it. That's the most thoughtful gift we've ever made me. Jim Morrison truly is my favourite artist. I never thought I would touch something that he also touched. It's such an important piece of memorabilia, and James gave it to me so easily.

I think that my mom would love to see me all flustered and blushing like that. I think where she is she loves to see me smile. But mom I'm sorry, I don't know if you'd love the person for whom I smile. Actually, she probably would.

James lingered in my thoughts for so long. And I kept on dancing. Until the last second of this cassette. I am a bit high but I'm still conscious about what I'm doing. It's like my whole world has ended but I just kept on dancing.

I get up and put the cassette in a place where I can see it all the time. I go to close my curtains. If James wanted to watch me have my little party, he could have. They're is a dim light in his room. I wish he was here in front of me, like yesterday.

"- Goodnight James, I loved your gift." i said to myself, smiling while closing the curtain.

࿓ 𓋪・𖧹 𖤐

A/N : I want james to call me a dandelion. Chapter 6 is ready, this is where it starts getting interesting. ;) XOXO <33

[scum-belina]

While dealing with covid I still have to do my usual routine of filling up water jugs since I've not had running water in two years due to ruined plumbing neither my mom nor I can afford to fix. Can't even try to save up for it at this point because we still have over $2000 in property taxes to pay on our small lot which is insane, and I still need to get new tires desperately. The stress and worry were already making me sick I didn't need covid on top of it.

But now whenever I go to my neighbors rose's to fill up jugs, I often get harassed by my other neighbor Lupe who according to Rose is jealous of how close I am with her. She treats Rose like a mother figure and Rose is and grandma figure to me and I'm just??? Leave me alone??? Rose has INSISTED I fill up my water jugs or do laundry at her place any time. She told me even when she's not home to just use her spare key she hid on her porch and come on in and fill up.

Last week before I even got sick, I was there filling up while Rose was gone and Lupe stormed in and demanded to know who was there (like she didn't recognize my car she drives by every day???) And then demanded to know why i wasn't wearing a mask in Rose's house (this woman doesn't give a shit about masks, she just wanted to start shit with me. Also I literally had one in my car I was heading back to out on before she stormed in.)

I told Rose about it and she was pissed bc she had already told Lupe to leave me alone, which is bizarre because I literally do nothing to Lupe. Last time I saw her was a year ago and we always got along and had a good time at rose's. But now I've been told she views me as a threat and wants to accuse me of taking advantage of Rose even though Rose herself is of complete sound mind and I would never do that to anyone. Hell I'm embarrassed and ashamed as hell to have to fetch my water from other people.

It's humiliating and tiring. Sometimes I have to fill up 30 gallons multiple times a week, carry them to my car, then carry them to my porch, then into my house. My arms be strong as hell tho ngl. Anyways Lupe had her ex husband cover rose's outside faucet last year (WAY before freezing weather season, so I guess even then she was trying to give me trouble) where I couldn't use it easily at all, so I gave up and started going inside, now that I'm sick and won't go in her house I asked Rose if I could uncover it all and she said absolutely and don't even worry about covering it back up.

The thing is that I'm already so low. I can barely get any lower in life than I am. So why harass me over getting water??? It's not even her fucking property. Rose told her I'm trusted and allowed to come and go as I need and please and I think that's pissed her off even more.

There's evidence that Lupe might be hoping to get rose's money, home, and car,once she dies, but I know Rose and that's not her will at all. She said Lupe makes her uncomfortable bc she does things to rose's house without her permission like changing her curtains and furniture??? WHO DOES THAT

Lupe also has a trait that has always troubled me where she seems to be a self-hating Hispanic. I've heard her say the most vile things about other Hispanic neighbors that literally do nothing wrong??? Like one time she saw some hanging out their laundry on a cloudy day and was like "typical dirty wetbacks" and I was like "wtf girl that's horrible to say. i've had to do that before too don't hate on someone for doing what they have to do"

she has a son, his gf and another kid who live with her and most of them are on disability so she be reaping their checks and when she first moved right across from Rose last year, she and her crew IMMEDIATELY made Rose get sick bc they weren't cautious around her at all, so her trying to make me feel bad like I was TRYING to make Rose sick even though Rose wasn't even there and I told her I wiped any door or faucet handle I touch down with alcohol before I leave, is alllll bullshit. She's been stewing to find fault with me for months and that was her chance and it failed big time with me AND with Rose later that day.

It's so bizarre. To me, Rose is a nice grandmotherly in her own odd way neighbor. I visit her and we talk about anything and everything. Even before I needed water I would go over there just to hang out and get out of my own head for a while. But it's not like I go over there or talk to her every day. Why am I such a threat to someone like Lupe. I really don't get it. Her and her crew have being doing so much more to harass me and it's got me so grieved and scared. I just want to live in a better place.

Even when I go to my maternal grandma's, other relatives will mock or harass me for filling up jugs or doing laundry there. And my maternal grandma has well water so she doesn't even pay a damn water bill. Like, why kick me when I'm already down? It's not like I just sit around and do nothing. I do everything I can to earn money with odd jobs but have had no luck on getting a decent job or even part-time job. It devastates and humiliates me. I cry myself to sleep more often than not at my whole life situation. I don't need anyone else to make me feel worse than I already do.

I understand if you said or thought "I ain't reading all of that". I really do. This is a rambling mess. I just needed to vent out a little bit of that stupidity that's been going on recently in my life. I'm so tired and scared all the time.