#I say barebones but in actuality they were winking at him

[blood-starved-beast]

Melinoe asked Moros how he'd describe her as a person (it makes sense in context, basically he told her the Fates gave the most barebones description of her, and she asked how he'd done it) and he responds like this. Baby, you are so down horrendous.

Joking aside, he admires her so much it's cute. His first real friend and first person to ever give him nectar and hang out with him and such. Also he's down horrendous

[corvidcrybaby]

Following up about that one anon’s mention of the theory that Dracula in the Hellsing universe may be more fiction than fact, what do you think actually happened in the events that the book took place? Do you think some parts of the story were true or made up, if so, what parts?

I think that Bram Stoker's novelization of the events in the Hellsing universe followed the same trend as most apocryphal interpretations of historical events - the barebones blueprint of the events are generally the same, but with some marked embellishments.

For one, this gives me a chance to talk about something I haven't seen anyone talk about regarding Alucard, and that's his outfit. We know he wears the coat that Abraham Van Helsing wore when he defeated Dracula back in the day - whether a sign of respect or a mark of his defeat, it's hard to say, but ultimately irrelevant. Mainly because it doesn't explain one thing: why does Alucard wear the hat?

When we see Abraham in the flashbacks, he doesn't wear a hat.

So where does it come from?

I think the answer is this: it's from Quincy Morris. Observe the following photos.

Now, as we can see here, there are a couple of members of the original team of hunters that bested Dracula back in the day who wear hats. One, we know for sure is Quincey. The other seems to be Jonathan Harker, although it can be hard to tell because we see multiple different styles of hats in the photos.

However, I think it's very telling that the bottom panel features a hat design on a dead Quincey that is very, very similar to Alucard's hat. It's not quite a cowboy hat, but it's damn close in design. And combined with the fact we know Alucard has a real hard-on for humans that are capable of killing him, plus the fact Quincey Morris is the guy who ACTUALLY gets the killing blow on Dracula in the novel, it leads me to wonder if the credit to Abraham van Helsing isn't skewed in some way - especially since we only see these events though Alucard's traumatized recollections of his defeat. Given that he's been a slave of the Hellsing family for over a century now, it perhaps adds up that this would be where much of his ire is directed. Hard to hate a man who's already dead, but perhaps that's why Alucard donned the hat, to intentionally thumb his nose at the Hellsings to remind them who REALLY got them their victory. It seems like a taunt he might indulge in.

Beyond this, at a push, I can't help but note that Alucard’s glasses resemble motorcycle goggles at a push, particularly with their yellow-orange tint. With this connection in mind, I'm reminded of the aesthetic continuity between the cowboy aesthetic and the modern biker aesthetic. Hell, motorcycles are even sometimes referred to as "iron horses." I can't help but wonder if Hirano is giving a wink to that here.

All told, I think that the events of the novel in the Hellsing-verse are generally accurate - I do think Dracula did a lot of what he was said to do, but I do think certain things, ESPECIALLY his appearance (hiya, gratuitous antisemitic caricature) were inventions of Stoker and his own biases and proclivities. Stoker was a WEIRD guy to boot. This, and one can quibble with the events of the novel and compare them with Alucard’s modern personality, which gets into questions of just how monstrous one thinks he is. The biggest offender to me is the scene where he feeds a live baby to his wives - would Alucard truly do something so comically vile? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps Dracula would, but Alucard wouldn't, and it's a new personality type of dealio.

This is by no means exhaustive, and one could easily write a whole scholarly essay on this (something I actually did do for a short essay assignment back when I was in higher education) but these are just some of my thoughts. Thank you for the ask!

[thgfanficinspo]

Fear of the Water - Ch. 7

AO3 LINK

Annie + Finnick Origin Story set during/after 70th Hunger Games

masterlist

(ANNIE)

It’s almost impossible to sleep. Not that I normally sleep well anyway. Still.

I have one of those dreams that’s only two minutes long but actually lasts for an hour or two in real life. Finnick’s in it. He doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t even look at me. He’s just there. And it’s nice in the dream but it’s sad when I wake up.

I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now. Keep moving? Stay put? I unpack my things and lay them out again. I get one deep sip of water cause I have to be careful about saving it until I find a source (maybe that’s what I’ll do today) and I eat one slice of dried apple. And then I notice the dirt and the blood under my fingernails and my hands start shaking.

My mother, she butchered me . . .

Shut my eyes. Don’t want to see the blood, see the boy exploding, feel hot drops of blood splatter against my face. Take deep breaths through my mouth to keep from gagging.

It’s a long time before I feel okay again. I’m just opening my eyes when a cannon goes off. I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

I count the bricks in my little cave to calm down again but I keep losing my place and have to start over.

I don’t think I’ll finish counting before the sun goes down. I’ll have to wait to look for food and water tomorrow.

(FINNICK)

My patron last night bought me and Cashmere as a set; I think it’s easier to deal with when there’s another victor with you. Misery loves company, as they say. But it’s also fucking awkward. Plus, it’s ridiculously expensive to buy a night with one victor, so buying two on the same night practically never happens.

We stay in the lady’s apartment long enough to see our tributes onscreen and make sure they’re still alive before making our way back toward the training center. Shine, Cash, and Piers are sorting out supplies and making a plan of attack. Annie is nibbling at some dried fruit.

We stop off at a coffee place on the way.

“That lady was disgusting,” Cashmere says as we wait for our orders. She pulls two blackberry-flavored cigarettes and some matches out of a pocket I didn’t know she had and lights them.

“Mm,” I hum in acknowledgement. She really was gross but I don’t waste my time thinking about her and what she wanted. I never do. When it’s over, it’s over, and there’s no point in reflecting on the experience.

Cashmere hands me one of the cigarettes. “Thanks,” I say. We smoke silently for a little while, watching all the Capitol citizens walk by. Girls giggle when they see me; men wink at Cashmere. It’s nothing new. “Who’s your favorite to win?”

She taps the excess ash from her cigarette on the ground. “I like my girl’s chances. But that pretty one from District Nine is one to watch. You?”

I shrug. “Don’t know.”

This is what conversations are like the day after you see a patron together. You’re too embarrassed about everything we did to look each other in the eye but we can’t ignore each other without being crushed by the silence. Plus, we have to look fun and flirty for the people that walk by.

My awful attempt at small talk is interrupted when a female tribute gets stuck under falling bricks from a decrepit building nearby. Her lower leg breaks with a loud snap as a particularly jagged stone lands on her shin. She barely has a chance to scream before a larger rock rolls onto her stomach and starts to crush her. It takes about a minute for her to die.

“That’s thirteen gone,” Cashmere says absently. “Eleven to go.”

The Avoxes are the only ones in the common area when I get back to the training center. They’re cleaning puke up off the rug; I assume it’s Broadsea’s.

“Did I miss anything important?” I ask, nodding at the television. There’s nothing interesting going on right now, so Caesar Flickerman is interviewing a Gamemaker named Seneca Crane about the inspiration behind the arena’s design.

It’s more elaborate than usual this year: it looks like an abandoned city that nature has reclaimed. It rains perpetually, and no place is completely dry. There are a handful of high dams, but in heavy rain they overflow somewhat. There’s nowhere to swim, so Annie and Piers don’t have any advantage there.

Somes points at the chalkboard; Girl 10 has been crossed off the list. Greer makes a few gestures to let me know that both Annie and Piers are still alive.

“Thanks.”

I sit down on the shower floor like I always do and lean my head back against the wall.

My arena was a heavy forest dotted with swamps.

There was this endless chorus of crickets and cicadas – it never stopped. Not to mention all the other damn bugs that would fly right into my eye or buzz around in my ear. All the bugs bit, but some of them carried diseases. Tributes bitten by the disease-bugs got sick and a few of them died.

There were these mutts in some of the swamps – gators, I think they’re called – that would come out of the water at night and attack. One of them killed Tethys, my district partner. It took her foot first. I couldn’t get to her in time to stop the bleeding or distract the mutt before it circled back for her. It took a while for the gator to kill her, but I doubt she could feel anything except the cold, dry sensation of losing blood.

Most of the water was unsafe to drink, and a good amount of the tributes died from dehydration or infections they got from drinking the bad water. The Careers and I were sure to boil our water to kill any germs. We didn’t have to worry about whether or not someone would see our fire – no one in their right mind would attack the Career pack.

And then one day at breakfast this enormous parachute came floating down from the sky and landed in front of me. A trident.

I knew in that moment that I would survive. I could use spears and knives as well as anybody, but I grew up with a trident in my hand. I knew I had lots of sponsors – they sent medicine when I was injured, fresh bread when I was hungry, even a sliver of soap to wash myself off – but this told me just how many there really were. But a trident?! Weapons of any kind were unheard of, but this?

It took two days for my allies to turn on me. They didn’t consider me much of a threat at first, since I was only fourteen and no one under sixteen, no matter how skilled or sponsored, had ever won. I defeated them allies fairly easily; I’d been expecting an attack and I knew what their fighting styles were. It only took another two days to find the remaining tributes and kill them.

I had it easy compared to some of the others. Most of the others, actually. I considered myself lucky for the first few days after I won. Thank God I didn’t have to deal with some of the shit the others had to. It evened out in the end, more or less.

Caesar Flickerman is talking as I exit the bathroom. Something menial. “Is she counting?”

“It looks like it,” Claudius Templesmith replies. “But I’m not sure why.”

I start rifling through the clothes in my closet.

“She’s most likely in shock,” Caesar says. “It happens from time to time.”

I don’t really pay attention – why should I? – until I catch a glimpse of Annie Cresta from the corner of my eye. It’s only for a millisecond; the feed switches to more entertaining footage of the boy from District 6 climbing to the top of a massive barebones building at least eight stories high.

“Shit,” I hiss under my breath.

Tributes go into shock pretty regularly; someone cracks up at least once every other year. I’m not surprised that it happened. But it bothers me that it happened to Annie. She was a bit weird to begin with, so I shouldn’t be shocked, but it’s still unpleasant.

Shit.

Piers probably should have killed her at the bloodbath – or at the very least, let the boy from 3 finish the job. The Games have barely started and I’m already so tired; I don’t know if I have it in me to watch Annie get herself killed in some awful way.

I avoid Mags for most of the day because I just don’t want to face her right now.

I eat dinner with Blight and Gloss at a popular restaurant, which we pretty much shut down for the night because so many of my adoring fans would otherwise flood the place. They cluster outside instead; Peacekeepers have to come in to keep them all in line. I’d really rather eat alone in my room but the president likes for his victors to be seen enjoying all the pleasures that the Capitol has to offer. And I hate to admit it but the food is actually good.

Blight brings the new kid with him. Timothy Something-or-other of District 6, victor of the 69th Hunger Games. I feel obligated to make a lot of sex jokes because it’s 69 and I’m the Finnick Odair.

Timothy doesn’t talk very much, nor does he make much eye contact. Blight and Gloss start filling him in on things he doesn’t ask about – the annoying victors, the protocols for being out in public, the politicians and socialites who get handsy when they drink.

“Brutus sucks, Gaius sucks,” Blight says as he pours us each a fresh glass of wine. “They’re both from Two. Actually most of those guys are awful.”

“Broadsea and Eefa fucking suck,” I add.

“And Leetha. Leetha is the goddamn worst,” Gloss says, shaking his head.

Timothy’s voice is scratchy. “Which one is she?”

“The redheaded lady from District Five,” I answer. “Thinks she’s the smartest person in the world. Don’t ever have a conversation alone with her. You’ll try to pull your ears off.”

Timothy swallows hard. He looks twitchy and hungry and tired. Bet he’s already addicted to something – alcohol maybe, or more likely morphling, since that’s the drug of choice for his fellow victors from 6.

The rest of dinner passes without anybody saying anything interesting. I trudge back to the training center and pray Mags has gone to bed already. I just don’t want to see her.

No such luck. She’s sitting on the couch facing the television when I come in. She smiles. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” I mutter. She pats the seat beside her, silently asking me to sit with her. But I don’t want to I stand by the couch with my arms crossed over my chest and my eyes pointed straight ahead.

Then she asks the question I’ve been dreading all afternoon. “Have you seen Annie?”

“Yeah.

We watch the Games in silence for a long time. There’s nothing going on this late; most of the tributes have gone to sleep. But I keep watching.

“What do you think?” Mags finally asks.

“I don’t think anything.” I try not to be snappy but it still comes out with some aggression. She must know I don’t want to talk about this. “I’m going to bed.” I give her a kiss on the cheek as I leave to show her that I’m not really mad at her. But she knows that already.

“Good night, Finnick.”

“Good night, Mags.”

I don’t have any dreams tonight.

[atamascolily]

a quick and dirty fix-it for “The Rise of Skywalker”

A barebones fix-it for The Rise of Skywalker, using as much existing plot threads as possible.

(I’m not going to claim this would be a perfect movie, but it would be 1000x better than the actual film.)

TL;DR: avoid introducing new characters and work with the ones you already have. Cut out as much unnecessary plots and directions as possible and focus on a few main ideas. Give the characters actual motivations for their actions.

Oh, and let ghost!Luke troll Kylo from the afterlife.

Opening crawl catches us up on what happened during the time skip: Lando is helping raise an army for the Resistance, Leia is ill, Kylo is supreme leader, Rey is studying to be a Jedi. We open with Leia's funeral, everyone is grieving. Rey wanders off alone and has flashbacks of Leia using the unused footage from TFA. Maz approaches and asks her what she's doing. Rey angsts about the broken Skywalker lightsaber, and shows how she's created it into two blades in a quarterstaff. She also mentions how she can't reach the spirits of the Jedi, that no one will talk to her from the other side. Maz reassures her she's doing just fine, that she has everything she needs.

Meanwhile, Poe is in charge and uncertain about what to do. Finn says whatever they do it will be together and he has faith in Poe. Lando appears, agreeing that that's the right answer, and that he's brought the fleet. Poe asks Lando to lead it, and Lando agrees. They are interrupted by Rose, who has picked up a broadcast from Palpatine announcing his return to the galaxy and demanding immediate surrender to his Final Order forces. The signal is coming from Exegol, but they don't know how to fly there to attack it because it's protected by space obstacles. Rey realizes that there are mentions of a wayfinder in her book. Lando says he and Luke went looking for one on Jakku years ago, and Rey freezes in her tracks.

Kylo's meeting with Hux and the other FO moffs also gets interrupted by this same meeting. Hux snarks at Kylo's uncertainty and gets attacked for his troubles. Kylo says he's going to meet this Emperor personally, and when Hux asks how, since Exegol is protected, kylo says he has his ways. He stalks off to Mustafar to get Vader's wayfinder, only to be trolled by Luke's ghost continually, to his intense annoyance.

Kylo flies to Exegol, confronts Palpatine, and they agree to an alliance/combine forces. Hux and the moffs are super skeptical/nervous, but comply grudgingly. Kylo sends the knights of Ren after Rey on Jakku when Palps says she’ll go back there to confront her heritage (he tells Kylo what it is but we cut before we hear the details). 

On Jakku, Rey (accompanied by Finn, Poe, Chewie and the droids) land, encounter the festival, go looking for the coordinates. Rey talks to a child, admits she doesn't have a family name, the FO chases them, and they flee into the desert "just like old times". They are trapped by a sandworm that Rey injures and then heals. They find the remains of the ship Rey remembers from her visions and she has flashbacks about her parents and her past and her connection to Palpatine. She realizes the second wayfinder is on the death star ruins at Endor, but the knights of Ren attack before they can leave. Rey defeats them easily, but is shaken at her anger and rage and violence she is capable of in the process, despite Finn's re-assurances that Rey doesn't have to be/isn't her heritage.

Kylo is upset that his knights failed and vows to do better, mocking them in the process. They track Rey to Endor, and Kylo says he'll deal with this personally. Meanwhile, the gang encounters Jannah and her crew of ex-stormtroopers. Finn and Jannah bond, a single-minded Rey runs away to investigate the ruins after a tearful good-bye to Finn. Rey explores the ruins, finds the wayfinder, has a vision of herself as Empress Palpatine, only to be interrupted by Kylo. They argue/fight, she stabs him, and then heals him, saying she's not a murderer like him, that Finn is right and she can choose to be different. She takes Kylo's TIE and flies off with her wayfinder while Kylo gasps on the floor.

Luke's ghost shows up and Kylo agonizes about returning to the light. Luke forgives him, and eventually Kylo tosses his saber into the sea. Luke says he's proud of Kylo and says there's something he wants to show him on Ahch-To. Finn and Jannah and Poe come looking for Rey and discover Kylo. Poe is skeptical, but Finn believes Kylo has changed, and Jannah gives him a ship so he can go on his own.

Rey sends the signals to the Resistance fleet, which Rose picks up, as the Final Order prepares to attack the galaxy. Kylo flies to Ahch-To and Luke's ghost leads him to Leia's hidden saber, and Kylo realizes how much his mother gave up to protect him. Kylo flies to Exegol using the crumpled Death Star wayfinder that he repairs, and goes after Rey.

Rey confronts Palpatine on Exegol, only to agree to Palpatine's plan for galactic dominion to save her friends. Ben is confronted by the Knights of Ren, who taunt him and reveal that they were under Palpatine's sway the entire time, and the whole First Order was a front that Palpatine used to control and manipulate Kylo this entire time. Kylo defeats them and rushes to help Rey, interrupting her before she can give into Palpatine. The two of them fight, but Palpatine defeats them both, and it seems hopeless. Meanwhile, the Resistance fighters, now including Jannah and Finn and Rose, confront the fleet over Exegol and the battle rages.  

Rose broadcasts Finn's speech to the stormtroopers, asking them to lay down their weapons just like Jannah's team did because it's the right thing to do and they do, to Hux's dismay and chagrin. Hux, sensing the tide is turning and hating Kylo Ren, surrenders.

Rey makes contact with the spirits of the Jedi in a vision and wakes up. She defeats Palpatine, but dies in the process. Ben wakes up, sees Luke, realizes he has to choose between his own life and hers. He choses Rey, heals her, but dies before she can wake up. A grieving Rey is comforted by Luke, who tells her he's proud of her.

Rey walks out under her own power and rejoins the others in her ship (exclaiming don't shoot since she's still in Kylo's TIE), and leads the triumphant forces back out of Exegol.

Cut to celebrations on the Resistance jungle base. Toasts for those they lost, and for the rise of the New Republic and defeat of the First Order. Poe's going into politics with Lando's guidance. Finn looks around for Rey, doesn't see her. Rey sits alone, until Luke's ghost comes to see her, followed by Leia. Glimpse of Ben in the distance, walking with Han. Finn comes up and asks what she's looking at. Rey asks him if he can see it, and he says, "I see it." They hug, and go back to the celebrations, where Maz winks at them. "you've come a long way from that scavenger I first met." Rey smiles and touches her lightsaber, holding Finn's hand, surrounded by her friends. "Yes, I know."  

[ewritesthangs]

34 and you/your current character obsession

34. meeting at a masquerade ball au

My current character obsession is anyone played by Ezra Miller. I’ll do Credence Barebone, in modern times.

My POV

There I stood, looking into the body length mirror. The mauve color dress hugging my body. The home-made matching mask. Damn, I look good. Fierce. Elegant. Something I never thought could be possible for a woman of my size. I was ready for this ball. I was going to have fun, and nothing was going to stop me. Or so I thought. I walk down to where my brother, Scott, stood. Him being dressed up as well. He wanted to go with me to make sure I was safe.

“My, what a beautiful young woman you are, Elena.” He states while taking my hand and giving a chaste kiss.

“And you clean up fairly well Scott. I must say.”

“Eh, when the time comes I have a few things in my back pocket.”

Our parents come out from the kitchen area, dad has a beer in hand and mom has an apron on.

“Oh my darlings! You look so beautiful. So handsome. I need pictures!” Our mother gushed.

“I am just glad Elena is going with her brother and not some creep.” Our dad grumbled. To which I rolled my eyes. My brother and I then began to pose for some pictures. Some were cute, some were serious, and some were silly.

“Perfect! Now do not have too much fun!”

“No talking to boys!”

“PAPA! I’m 22 years old.” My dad glares at me. So I glare back.

“Fine. No sex then.”

“PAPA!”

“LANA.”

“SCOTT.” My brother had to butt in, so we turned out heads. “What? I felt left out.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Scott wouldn’t dare let me out of his sight.”

“No sir. I will keep her on my arm the whole time.”

“Good. Now go enjoy the ball. Be back by midnight you two!” I rolled my eyes again and walked outside, to where an actually nice car sat. My mouth was ajar, probably had some bugs fly into it.

“Thought I’d rent a nice car for my baby sister’s real first ball experience.” Scott said, after kissing on my hairline. He then proceeds to open the door for me and make sure I am all in before closing it and hopping in on the drivers side. On the way, we belt our lungs out to our favorite music. We turn our volume down when we arrive at the palace, where the ball was to commence. I took a deep breath in before we arrived at the valet service. I am let out by a nice valet woman. I then walk in with my brother, hand resting on his arm. The ball was only just starting, which caused me a bit of anxiety or nervousness or even excitement.

“I am going to get us some drinks. I’ll be right back. Stay put.” He kisses my cheek, then proceeds towards the drinks where he finds himself a lady to talk to. I stood there, alone. Some girls came up to me, no older than 17.

“Oh my god. Why did you come? Fat pig.” One of them said.

“Because I was invited.”

“Why would you leave your house?”

“Because I can.” I said, in an annoyed tone.

One of them scuffed. “I don’t see why that guy would ever consider being near you.”

“Well that’s my brother so.”

“How pathetic, couldn’t even get a real date.”

“And who are you with hmm? Bunch of your little friends?” A handsome masked man shot back, to which they scuffed and ran off.

“Thank you.”

Credence’s POV

I was standing near this radiant woman. There was something about her. She had confidence, and I liked that. It was only in this mask where I felt confident. Nobody knew who I was, and that felt very good. The woman though, was here with someone. These teenage girls came up to this beautiful woman and began making horrible remarks about her.

“Oh my god. Why did you come? Fat pig.” One of them said.

“Because I was invited.”

“Why would you leave your house?”

“Because I can.” She said, in what seemed to be an annoyed tone.

One of them scuffed. “I don’t see why that guy would ever consider being near you.”

“Well that’s my brother so.” Oh, what a relief.

“How pathetic, couldn’t even get a real date.” Neither could you girls.

“And who are you with hmm? Bunch of your little friends?” I shot back for her, to which they scuffed and ran on their merry little way.

“Thank you.” She says to me. To which I reply with a soft kiss to her hand.

“Anything for the beautiful woman standing right in front of me.” She blushed, which made her look so adorable. “Does the lady have a name?”

“Oh, I thought this was a masquerade?” She says with a devilish smirk on her face. Oh those pretty little lips. “Anonymity is key here.” A wink follows her remark.

“Okay then. I can deal with that.” I bow. She giggles, curtsies, and then says to me, and me only into my ear.

“You can call me E.” Her voice was so sweet, so low. A hushed whisper if you will. It was magical.

“You can call me Creed. Would you like to dance?” I ask, my hand extended. She takes it, which makes me breathe a breath I had not been aware I was holding. A nice and slow song was on, to which caused me to bring her in close. She was slightly shorter than me, but had a little heal which made her my height. Perfect. I held her as close as possible, hand in mine, one arm around her waist. God she was breath-taking. I had never thought I could fall in love at first glance, but here I am, falling for a woman I knew nothing about. The way she held one to me, was as if she had longed for a mans touch. And I was holding here, welcoming her embrace. I longed for a loving touch that she seemed to give. It was warm, inviting, soothing. My cheek was against hers as I sang softly into her ear.

But I can’t help, falling in love with you.

Like a river flows, surely to the sea.

Darling so it goes.

Some things aren’t meant to be.

She begins to sing along as well.

Take my hand. Take my whole life too.

For I can’t help, falling in love with you.

She must have felt the same way. I must have. I look her in the eyes, her beautiful hazel eyes. I wanted, no needed, to kiss her. I was never so sure of anything in my life. I leaned in, eyes closing and hoping she would kiss me back. To my surprise, she did! Her lips were so soft, warm. They felt so nice. We kissed for a good 5 seconds, before she pulled back. I wanted more, but I shall wait. I open my eyes, to see her looking at me. A baffled look on her face, that turned into a loving yet shy smile. She then pulled me along with her to the staircase, where we sat and began talking, telling each other bits and pieces of our lives. It seemed like the bare minimum. She never took her mask off, but I had. I wanted her to see me, for who I really was. But she placed her hand on my face.

“You are the most handsomest man I have ever laid my eyes on.” Oh man did i blush like a tomato. I offered her a shy smile.

“Can I see you?” I ask, but she shook her head.

“No, I am not as good looking as you.” I shake my head in protest.

“Looks are merely a perception. I do not care about your looks. It is merely the way you make me feel that does me in, so to speak.” I hand her hands in mine, I kissed her knuckles. She began to tear up at my statement. She took her hands from mine and was about to take her mask off when, who I presume to be her brother came about.

“Elena, where have you been? I have been looking everywhere for you. It’s getting late and we need to go get some food.” He said, causing my grin to turn into a frown. She sighs a sad sigh, gives me a quick peck and then stands.

“It was a pleasure to have had your presence with me here tonight. But I must go. Maybe, if this was meant to be, we will meet again.”

“I will be waiting for that day to come my love.” I say, before I gave her one last kiss, a long and loving kiss. But we were interrupted by her brother tugging her away.

“I must go.” Her final words were to me. I decided to run after her, once I got out of my little daze. She had taken off her mask, so I saw a part of her face. It had a sad expression, but then she must have seen me for her frown turned into the brightest smile I had ever seen. God she was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid my eyes on. I was stopped by the bunch of girls that had made fun of my lady.

“Oh you’re cute.”

“Why would you hang out with-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” I had said with an annoyed tone. I walked past them, looking for my love. My E. Elena. I found her mask, where it seemed to have fallen from her gasp.

“This is it. I must find her.” 

[dannissa13]

Shut up and drive

Here is the version for reading on Tumblr. Enjoy.

Things change and life goes by but sometimes meeting the right person can turn everything upside down. Rich boy and his driver find each other and shenanigans ensue. Love, sex, drugs, drag queens and one crazy aunt are on our heroes path. Will they? Yes! Won’t they? Maybe. 

He was never a person to hate his job, nothing was able to break his spirit, not even years of police academy training and that subsequent gross termination from the force, huge drug scandal he had gotten himself into like a complete moron. But shit just kept getting weirder and weirder as years went by. And as far as he knew this one promised to be the most difficult and shitty of all. Driving some wealthy prick around who’s barely legal to drive himself, and probably getting him outta trouble over and over again. Promised payment was good though, the first time in forever he’d have extra money after paying for everything and living on a budget won’t be a problem anymore. Is it worth all the trouble in the end - he’ll see.

He cursed his mother’s “exquisite” taste not once or twice in his life, both adult and not because when it came to picking a name for him she really pulled a good one on everybody. Choosing the fancy “Percival” over hundreds of others, she might have been blinded by vanity or trying too much to look like a rich lady but ended up screwing said Percival’s childhood in a big way. He didn’t blame her, not in the slightest. People have whims, and Mum was always drawn to extravagance. He sighed. All this recalling of the past didn’t help his cause, especially not today, on his first day of a new job. He had a few before, random and scattered in amounts of income and trouble he had to go through to complete given tasks but this type of thing was entirely new. After getting kicked out of the police, when he was still young and ambitious, trying to do the right thing, speak up in the situation he then deemed wrong, life gave him not even lemons, it gave him nothing. So, after piecing together what’s had left of his dignity he went on to do anything to keep himself afloat.

And now he’s supposed to just sit here, smoking, even though the new contract specifically forbids him from doing so in client’s car, waiting for said silver spoon fed, spoiled, rich kid, he read so much about in spare time before work started. Heir to the richest family in this goddamn city, lucky little bastard, had his fair share of fun in early days, before the “tragic and sudden death” of his parents, “poor thing, orphaned at such a young age”. Newspapers were full of ripe headlines when that happened, pouring more and more pointless condolences towards the kid and his new caregiver, boy’s aunt, a conservative politician with two daughters of her own. Now a senator, the woman held everyone in an iron fist, especially her children, but the rotten brat was still kicking, fits of his “heroic” benders almost a stuff of legends. That’s why Percy was here - not really a bodyguard, but close. Legally bound from actually disclosing true nature of his work to the client but obligated to take care of him and make sure “no one gets into trouble”. They’ve hired a wrong guy for this. Percy grinned. This is going to be interesting.

The mansion he had parked next to was glorious, all marble, columns, and statues, ivory colored facade with huge windows, in some overly fancy style the name of which he could never remember, with gargantuan wooden front doors adorned in ornate metalwork, polished so well you could see yourself in it. The definition of luxury, over-the-top wealth, and a bit tacky for his own taste. Something more modern would look so much better. There was more to estate than just the main building - opulent looking glass arboretum full of exotic flowers, a pool, the size of a small lake, servant’s shed, guest house, a parking garage, tennis court, and a huge field of perfectly manicured grass lawn, surrounded by high hedge fence, enclosed in a real, stone fence, with gates, guards, dogs and cameras. What did he get himself into this time around?

Last drag of the cigarette burned tips of his fingers and next one was in his mouth even before he could consciously think about pulling it out of the pack. Waiting sucked, chainsmoking was bad for him, but so was the unbearable boredom of simply sitting on his ass and Percy knew so much more of this would come later. The first thing he’ll buy gonna be a smartphone, maybe even the fancy one. Finally, something good will come from working for rich assholes.

Huge doors of the mansion flew open with a bang that startled birds on all of the surrounding trees and made Percy jump a little. With that noise came others, even less pleasant sounds - people were loudly and angrily fighting on a subject matter that wasn’t new at all for both of them. Yelling insults at each other, two voices Graves couldn’t identify were getting louder and a fight was coming to an end. With triumphant “Leave me the fuck alone and get the fuck out of my business!” tall and slim figure, dressed in all black slammed the doors shut and marched towards the car with a focused determination of a very pissed off person.

After taking a closer look of the cloud of black angry angst heading his direction, Percy realized that he got royally screwed over - this was his client and now he was supposed to deal with an attitude like that. This better pay off, because Lord above know Graves needs a stable job now more than ever, but if this little shit would try something like that with him, Percival definitely can’t guarantee politeness and flexibility around problems. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

When only a few steps separated them boy stopped, still not looking at Graves, sighed deeply and then, like a magic trick, untensed and unfurled, like dropping an act or changing a mask. This sudden metamorphosis was a bit creepy, to say the least, but seemed genuine, like something he was doing not for the first time. A new smile lights up the young fresh face and shining eyes were on Percy, studying him up and down. After waiving his hand lightly kid greeted him

- “Hi. You must be my new driver, right?”

- “Hello. Yes, I think I am exactly that.”

- “I’m so terribly sorry for what you just had to witness. My aunt and I have way too different points of view and our outlooks on life certainly collide from time to time. I promise you I’m way more well mannered with people who I don’t personally disdain.”

- “Okay, I’ll remember to not get on your bad side then.”

- “And we’ll have a grand ole time. Speaking of manners, I’ve completely forgotten mine. I’m Credence, Credence Barebone, nice to meet you. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking - what in the hell kind of name is that. Truth is, my parents were not only rich but also weird. I know, right, eccentric wealthy people calling their spawn an unusual name. Who calls their child something so bizarre in the twenty-first century, ha?”

- “You are not the only one wondering about that. Percival Graves at your service.”

He did a joke curtsy, flourish and a bow. The young man chuckled.

- “Nice to meet you, Mister Graves. We’ll definitely find a common ground, with names like that.”

- “Just Percival, please. I don’t really like being a “Mister”, makes me think about my age quite a lot.”

- “Then you should call me by my name too. Just Credence, no misters here either.”

- “It’s a deal!”

Kid grinned and shook Percy’s hand vigorously, maybe too excited for his own good. Thankfully this all went smoothly and this Credence wasn’t such a stuck up dick Graves imagined him to be after all. That’s a win in his book one hundred percent.

The boy climbed into the backseat of the car and Percy sat behind the wheel. It was action time, finally. After fastening his seatbelt and fixing rear view mirror Graves started the engine and slowly drove to the mansion’s main gate. Before leaving the grounds completely he turned to a kid and firmly insisted

- “Belt. I won’t go around with my passenger not following the safety rules.”

- “Alright, alright, I’ll buckle up. But only for you.”

Wait, was that a wink? Is this little bastard is flirting or something?

And they went to the city. The ride wasn’t really that long and Percy always found the radio to be boring and somewhat annoying so they drove in near silence and there was a comforting quality to that. Credence looked at the window, forehead pressed against the glass, seemingly so deep inside his thoughts he won’t be able to support any meaningful conversation even if he’d tried to. Graves didn’t mind though. They both were just enjoying the view.

When the destination was close his passenger left trancelike state of overthinking something and spoke

- “It has GPS, you know?”

- “What does?”

- “The car. Tablet and a mount for it are probably both in a glove compartment somewhere. At least they were the last time, but I don’t think that previous guy could have stolen it. Our security is really vigilante.”

Percival laughed softly

- “Well, thanks for the heads up, now I’ve changed my mind about stealing all of your earthly possessions and getting easy money. I’ll have to earn them the old fashioned way - by honesty working my ass off.”

- “You better do that. Where else I’ll find such a charmer with a sense of humor matching mine.”

- “You won’t be able to, I’m unique in that, even my brother doesn’t get my jokes half of the time.”

- “What to say about mine, then? Aunt Mary thinks I’m an asshole for trying to prank her so many times. But let’s be honest, she’s kind walked into some of those herself, I just tweaked the stuff a little bit.”

This version of Credence he definitely liked more, not the yelling angsty one from the morning encounter. Hopefully, he’ll continue to be more like this and this endeavor will be fruitful.

*A few weeks later*

He’s nice, this kid. Polite, sweet, caring, great sense of humor, huge personality, charisma, and charm just roll off him in waves but there is something about him that’s wrong. Percy is not able to pinpoint what’s exactly going on with the boy, but he knew trouble when he saw it. Credence was hiding from something and said something haunted him day and night. Yes, on a surface level everything seemed okay, all smiles and laughter, but at times, you could see the real boy, that emptiness behind his eyes, that dark despair in his actions, that unbearable desire to just run away from all of it. Kid acted out on those urges constantly - Percival knew all too well the tendencies of self-destructive behavior.

They met a few times a week and Graves drove him around to a plethora of different places - business meetings, lunches, social events, huge shopping malls and clubs, restaurants - you name it. Kid seemed to be fine, not really getting in trouble, except a few small ones, like drinking himself silly on some occasions or going out somewhere high as fuck, but mostly things went smoothly.

This day promised to be no different - drive him to a club, pick him up later, go through the closest drive-thru and get greasiest, grossest fast food, chow down on it and bring the kid back home. Easy-peasy, right? He’ll have some free time with Credence is partying and a meal afterward, pretty sweet deal.

Pulling up to some hot spot, all flashy lights and blaring music, security guards with stone faces, huge bulky dudes that can knock anyone out with just one punch, guest list, overpriced drinks and a crowd both out and in the facility - yeah, not surprising at all, boy loves places like this, Percy climbs out of the car and opens a door for his passenger, who is already a bit high on weed after pregaming with his pals.

Kid stretches his long limbs before getting out and shoots Graves an interesting look, half sided smirk indicating that he’s up to no good. Oh, that is a familiar expression, mischief written over his features in big bold letters. This deserves a sigh. What is he planning and what kind of problems they will get into? The boy starts talking which makes everything clear - two places in a list for only one person because his friend flaked out and it would be such a pity to let so much money go to waste.

- “Cmon, let’s go in! Better than just sit there and wait for me like a dog. It’ll be fun! You should have more fun, with me!”

Kid is basically whining all while pulling at his sleeve. Graves sighs again and reluctantly agrees.

- “Okay, okay, please leave my arm alone. I’ll go with you, but promise you’ll behave. It’s important.”

- “Whatever you say, daddy!”

- “Don’t call me that, goddamnit. I’m old, yeah, but not that old.”

Percival locks the car and puts on the alarm, only then following Credence, who’s long gone, chatting up the guy with a tablet in hand, talking about the guest list. The ease of getting into a party when you are loaded is fascinating. Securities part and tablet guy leads the way, into the small dark hallway leading up to even darker but bigger room. Some EDM is playing, crowd jumps up and down under the strobing lights and lasers, the smoke machine works it’s hardest and there even bubbles in the air. Well, that’s definitely overdoing it.

There is a bar with some stools but otherwise seating space is scarce, leathery couches beside the walls are jam-packed some people even sitting on a floor next to them. Credence says, more like yells to overpower the music, that he’s going to go say hello to a party’s host, whose birthday it is and he’ll be back soon. Percival signals to the bar and to his best abilities pantomimes that he’ll wait there, sitting his behind onto the first free space available. Bartender gestures to a gloving menu with rather inventive cocktail names, all of which are overpriced for the amount of booze they’re containing. Graves points to a water and gets a shrug and a glass of it with ice a little lemon and a straw, how fancy.

The place is loud, as he’d expected, flaring lights and all that smoke obscure the vision, his water is more expensive than a good meal and people surrounding him are superficial, stupid and shallow. Maybe coming inside wasn’t such a good idea. Getting a headache isn’t a priority right now. Time is put on hold, so he drifts away to his thoughts and goes through a few of the waters while waiting.

Boy jumps on him unexpectedly, long arms snaking around Percy’s chest, warm breathing on the back of his neck.

- “I’m back, darling! Are you having a good time without me?”

He’s happy, aloof and cheery. That means uppers, but not a lot of ‘em. Credence is rubbing his cheek into Graves’s, skin a little damp, eyes shining in the dark, irises are blown out and blush strong. Not the worst feeling, to be honest.

- “Not really. Are you ready to go? It’s kinda late.”

Kid starts to whine, pouting and dragging his voice

- “No, I wanna stay! We haven’t danced yet! I want a drink! My friends are still here!”

- “A drink you can have, but we’re going afterward, you’ve had enough for one night.”

Most of the people are actually left, maybe some of the aforementioned friends too, but boy was high and overly excited.

- “Give me Red Bull Vodka! And my friend’s gonna have it too!”

- “No, I’m not going to. Driving, remember?”

Another pout. This is kinda endearing but mostly annoying.

- “Then I’ll drink both! Maybe some E-s to go faster? We’ll come home in no time!”

So amphetamines it is. Goddamnit, this is going to be a disaster.

- “No. Sorry, kiddo, I always ride sober.”

- “Is that a challenge?”

- “No, that’s the way of living a long life with as little bones broken in the car crashes as possible.”

Credence looks like he’s going to cry. Lucky the liquor comes and boy downs it like water, one after the other, grabs Percy’s wrist and marches towards the exit in almost a straight line. When the doors of the establishment are in the view and fresh air is only a step away, kid stops fully, turns around and slams Graves into the wall full force, lips suddenly on his, soft mouth half open, running long fingers through man’s hair. He is taller, not by much, yet it’s noticeable. Percival has no idea how to react to that but it ends as quickly as it’s started. Whispering so close to his face that every breath tickles the skin, Credence explains

- “My petty ex, sorry for that. If he would have seen me here he would’ve told my aunt. I’m not supposed to be in this place. You were my only chance for cover.”

- “Understandable. Let’s go home before some other tattletale asshole recognizes you.”

A brisk walk in chilly night air almost erases the feeling of damp warmth from Graves’s lips although memory will be there forever. He has to hold the stumbling boy upright, latter crushing hard after adrenaline wave faded off. Laying him down is a hard piece of work, lanky limbs tangling and body not cooperating whatsoever. He’s conscious thought, able to speak, think and assert his will. Also for somebody who’s both high and drunk Credence is very talkative

- “You know what we should do? Shrooms! Like, right now. I know a guy, he’ll hook us up. It’s less than a twenty-minute drive from here, let’s go!”

- “This is a bad idea. I’m not taking you there.”

- “But I wanna be fucked up! Really fucked up, tripping balls. Aunt Mary will be so pissed anyways so I might just get the best of it and spend her rant watching rainbows riding each other.”

- “You are already fucked up enough and gonna feel like shit tomorrow’s morning, trust me.”

- “Who gives a damn about tomorrow? It’s not gonna be my problem, I’ll be out cold.”

- “And afterward, you’ll vomit all over the place, cry and wish to be dead.”

- “Yeah, that’s exactly how you know you had a good time last night.”

- “Sounds good when you are in the moment, but I know from experience how actually disgusting you’ll feel. Been there, done that, doesn’t recommend this to anyone.”

Kid laughs that stares in disbelief

- “You did some? Really? Don’t seem like a person who would, exactly, all adult and boring, no offense.”

- “I did. Stopped after that garbage wrecked my life. You should too before it’s too late.”

- “It’s already too late. She won’t let me live in peace or live at all, that’s probably my last years so I wanna go out with a bang!”

What is he talking about?

- “Care to elaborate, maybe?”

- “My parents. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Yeah, that. Fuck, this is not a territory Graves wanted to thread even if he could manage to be careful and respectful.

- “Yes, I’m sorry. I’ve read about the tragedy.”

- “Oh, you most definitely had, it was all over the news: “Courageous senator takes the orphaned nephew, the only heir to the combined wealth of his parents, under her wing, giving him a new home and two sisters to play with.” I’m sure, Ma’s and Pa’s money wasn’t the main reason. She’s my actual aunt, of course, on the father’s side, his younger sister, mother had no real family that I know of, but as much as Pa was rich she was smart. They made an excellent business duo, the Investor, and the Inventor. Father’s money quadrupled in the first two years of their marriage. Match made in Heaven, people said. Aunt Mary wasn’t convinced though. She always thought my mom wasn’t trustworthy. When I was little, I’ve heard them fight, my parents and her, and, for a few months though my mother was a witch, because of my aunt’s words. Only after I’ve become a little older I understood that she used the different word, the one that starts with the “b”. She probably hated them both, her brother for being older and inheriting all of the money and my mom, for taking the control of my dad over, being an intruder, an outsider. She took his last name, she named me according to a family tradition but that wasn’t enough. For those five years, I’ve spent in her house, living alongside their family the only thing I’ve dreamed of is to get out as soon as I can. No, she never did anything bad to me per say, but she’d never hesitated with the reminders of her kindness.”

That was a truth bomb of a century. Damn, this kid is screwed. Percival has no idea what to say or how to handle this and the rest of the ride is grim and silent. They arrived at the mansion somewhere between late night and early morning, when everything is dead asleep and sun isn’t even thinking about rising, only living souls not in their beds are last security shift, who lets them through the gates. Credence is still silent, seemingly upset with Graves’s lack of tact and discretion around the painful subject but Percy still has no idea what to say

- “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not like I don’t give a shit, I just don’t know how to say this. So yeah, sorry.”

- “I’m okay. Good night. I’ll call you when I need your services.”

Oh, that was cold. Boy disappears inside the house and from his life for a little. There is no calls or texts on his new phone, only some bits and pieces from servants group chat about Lady being angry and grounding the kid. Chief of guard spills a little more, telling that Credence got a big whooping and recovering from that, which doesn’t sound right. The situation is shitty from every perspective.

Percival comes by the servants quarters once in awhile trying to get any news, making friends with everyone who can tell him anything useful but people are definitely scared of the Lady Mary whom Graves haven’t seen yet. Who even has servants and calls herself Lady these days, good God.

Everything goes back to normal suddenly, much like it went south before. He wakes up one morning to a phone call and comes to pick up Credence like nothing’s happened. Boy definitely hides something but after the last time, Percy’s not touching this with a ten foot pole. This is not his problem.

*Two months later*

Their next outing is to another club in Brooklyn, how predictable now. When they went to gay clubs it was in the low and never to the same ones. Well, this tactic was working in their favor for now.

Boy always asked not to wait for him in front of a building, for hours on end, and to pick him up after he’d texted. That worked out for them both. Killing time isn’t that hard and there are some coffee shops to hang out in and maybe hit on cute baristas, or just read something like an actual person. Nightlife isn’t for him no more.  

Text he receives is pretty concise

“Wait for me outside in ten minutes. Don’t come out.”

Okay, it’s working time. Parking near the club’s well-lit entrance Percival checks his watch - one minute left, good job, and prepares to wait some more.The person approaching the car is definitely not who Percy was expecting. Long lean legs in some kind of designer shoes, heels high and soles blood red, shiny skimpy skirt, he wasn’t sure of the material but it looked like a translucent leathery condom, so probably latex, and a top, made of the same thing over a small, almost nonexistent bosom, covered with a contraption made entirely out of thin straps and metal rings, like a cage snugly fitted over the stranger’s upper body, fingerless gloves and a small hat on top of huge mane of raven hair - the whole getup is black, see through and scandalous. Nice.

This wasn’t a first time he drove some of the Credence’s friends around, part of them young, pretty and kinda stupid socialites, fun, drunk and a bit petty, part - weirdos, bohemian fancy fucks who were high on some shit, yelled nonsense and asked dumb questions. This one was probably both, beautiful and weird so ride promised to be a handful. Maybe boy’s aunt will finally leave him alone about getting a girlfriend when he shows up with this one here, but probably bringing home the lady, who’s dressed like an expensive fetish prostitute will result in even more scrutiny.

The girl opens a car door and not really that gracefully plops herself in the backseat. For such a young woman she’s wearing quite a lot of makeup, features dark but skin so pale it was almost white. He hadn’t expected her to start undressing either. Was this some sort of prank, or did Credence actually ordered him a hooker?

Her long red nails went first, one by one as she presses fingertips to them and watches colored plastic fly away. Next to go were gloves, then the hat, shoes and the leather body holster. She wasn’t looking at him at all, minding her own business and Percival was a little confused, to say the least. When the skirt and the top started to come off he decided to take the situation into his own hands.

- “Hi, there! I have a quick question if you don’t mind: what in the actual fuck are you doing and who are you for God’s sake? Why are you almost naked in a stranger’s car?!”

- “What are you talking about, Percy? You definitely know me, c’mon.”

With those words, the last pieces of clothing were gone revealing smooth pale skin, complete absence of breasts and shiny tape covering the genitals. Wig went off, cap too, and there was Credence in just ridiculous amount of makeup staring back at him.

- “Wait, are you secretly a drag queen?”

- “No, actually, but some of my friends are. It was a themed night and I’ve decided to try it. On a more important note, though l didn’t pin you as a type who’s aware of gay culture, you know.”

- “We all got our secrets.”

- “Now I’m interested. Spill it!”

- “Ugh, okay. I had a different life before rehab and met people from different places. Is that enough information?”

- “Of course not! But I’ll wait until you’ll be ready to talk more.”

This kid. Rummaging through a purse he whips out a package of wet wipes and starts rubbing his face, peeling lashes off and smearing black and red all over. That’s a mess. The whole packet is barely enough to remove everything and boy’s skin looks inflamed, some lipstick residue left behind. When it’s time to peel the tape of his junk Credence shoots Percy a sharp look which makes the man averted his gaze to the road ahead, glancing in interest while kiddo shimmies tight jeans on up to the knees and rips sticky bonds with a hiss. Going commando is brave idea after all of that. After putting the t-shirt on boy leaves the car to return borrowed garments to a tall tanned queen waiting him out. They chat for a little, painted blonde bursts into laughter a few times while looking at Percy and then back to the kid. That little shit. They hug before parting and then she waves you both goodbye as the car drives away.

Credence is surprisingly timid now, trying not to look in Percival’s general direction and twirling his fingers, fidgeting in his seat, checking the belt and doing all the stuff people usually do when they’re worried.

- “What’s wrong? You’re kinda jittery, kiddo.”

He freezes completely with a look on his face of a bunny who just saw a snake unhinge its jaws to devour him. Truth comes out of him in a few minutes, almost a whisper

- “Can you keep a secret? This secret. Please. She’ll freak the fuck out if I show up looking like I was before. And I couldn’t do it inside. Please don’t rat me out.”

- “I won’t. Also, why should I? Nothing good will come of it if I do that.”

- “It’s just I can’t trust anyone my aunt hires. She makes them spy on me and tell her everything. There’s no one inside that house to support me.”

- “Your aunt didn’t hire me, main security guy did. And I’m not from your house, right. This is safe with me.”

Credence’s voice is soft and it sounds like he’s sobbing

- “Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve acted like ass before. I’m such a dick to you.”

- “Stop it. It’s okay. Let’s get food and go home. What would you fancy this time of evening.”

He is laughing now and it’s so much better seeing him smile than cry.

- “Taco Bell! Let diarrhea come, I’m ready.”

Now both chucking, they go into the drive-thru and eat tacos in the night. It’s the most peaceful after party in Percival’s memory. When he drops the boy off latter still smiles and that’s warming man’s heart to the very bottom.

*Next week*

Past several days are packed to the brim with activities, meetings, and plans. Kid’s birthday is coming and he is busy as ever. One night that he gets off, after supervising all the preparations, is the night of fun for him and a horror show for Graves. They go to some friend’s house, then to a liquor store, then to another friend to pick up five people - it’s insane. When the gaggle of tipsy youngsters finally get off at the destination he asks the boy to stay for a little

- “Hey. Be safe there, okay. Don’t do anything stupid.”

- “Yes, daddy. Can I go now?”

- “Oh God, don’t call me that. But in all seriousness, keep yourself in check. And one more thing. Credence, please, stay out of trouble this time around.”

- “Aww, you really care about me”

- “Somebody has to, you know.”

- “Alright, okay, I promise I’ll try my best. Bye-bye, I’ll text you.”

He blows a kiss a runs off into the crowd. That deserves a deep sigh. After the few hours of mindless driving and visiting numerous cafes for a cup of coffee Percival finally hears the phone chime. Text appears on the screen

“Pick me up.”

He pays quickly and rushes out of the building, while chiming resumes, one text after another

“I’m outside”

“Take me home”

“Now”

“Percy, I don’t feel so good”

“Please come and get me”

Fuck, what did the kid do? Graves speeds up, ignoring few road signs to be there for the boy as soon as he can. It’s a record time, but he could have been arrested for reckless driving. When Percival pulls up to a club Credence is nowhere to be seen. Shit. He’s trying to find the kiddo behind the building, in the alley where people smoke, take drugs and fuck, sometimes simultaneously. Thankfully, Credence is there, back against the wall, eyes glassy. That’s bad, really really bad. Percy jumps out and hurries up to his precious passenger.

- “What did I said about staying out of trouble?”

His response is slow, voice weak and raspy

- “Leave me alone. I know I fucked it up, let me wallow in my misery.”

- “Fuck no! You’re coming with me. Right! NOW! Move it, young man.”

Graves has to drag the kid into the back seat and put seat belt over almost non-responsive body. Goddamnit, both of them are so fucked. Boy is blabbering nonsense at this point

- “Just drop me off at some hotel, I’ll be alright, she won’t even notice I’m missing. I’ve done it before, quite successfully, actually. Just lie to the old bitch in the morning and everything will be fine.”

- “Listen, I don’t really want to be a part of this.”

- “Oh, me neither, buddy. She’ll go ballistic. Totally not looking forward to that”

- “This can cost me a good paying job, you know. The job that I really need. I’ve helped you as much as I could, but this you’ll have to face alone.”

- “I always face her alone.”

- “I don’t think you have a choice here. We can do this the easy way or the hard way and you are the one who has to choose which way it’ll be. I’m not really a fan of the second option and it might cost me this job and some other things, but you know that I’m bound by contract and can’t really do anything about that. And I’m also the man of my word. Plenty of things I’ve fucked up in this life, but promises - never. If you can’t keep your word you can’t be a decent man.”

Percy waits for response but gets no answer. Fucking brat has decided to give him a silent treatment. When the sound of an opening car window distracts Graves from driving it’s already too late - Credence is already vomiting copiously out of the full speed driving car. Goddamn little pig. The rattling of the door handle is the last thing Percival wants to hear at the moment. Is that idiot for real? Does he really want to just walk out of the moving vehicle?

Pulling over near some dingy alleyway, as far from the street lights as possible, Percy jumps out of the car first, to help out. The younger man is heaving, face red, puffy and sweaty, capillaries in his eyes busted from forcefully hurling over and over again. This is incredibly shitty. He helps the boy stumble into the privacy of the alley and rubs circles on his back, whilst the latter pukes his little heart out, last few spasms just empty dry heaving, the kind that will only make you feel worse. Shit. Coming back now, looking like this isn’t a good idea.

Something from not so recent memory surfaces and Percy is ready to act on it. Grabbing Credence tightly he marches back, shoves him in and floors the gas pedal. Closest 24-hour pharmacy is five minutes away but they got there in two. After gathering the supplies and paying Graves storms out just in time to catch that goddamn idiot boy falling out of the car. After even more dry heaving and tears they finally go to a place Percival wasn’t ready to show to anyone yet - his home.

Juggling keys and a plastic bag with all the medical things in one hand and trying to pull essentially passed out Credence up the stairs man basically fell inside his shitty apartment. Oh, this is gonna be one long long night. Dragging lanky body, even though kid was freakishly thin, was difficult especially when trying not to bang him up too much. Percy’s bed, this time thankfully made, was the only choice of surface to lay an unconscious body on. Digging into the bag, Graves produced out an I.V. unit, tubing, and a needle. Being out of practice could’ve hurt this idea but man focused all the mental capabilities he owned and pierced boy’s vein giving him much needed fluids and medication to make Credence better. Turning him on a side and leaving a bucket for any mishaps Percy left to make himself coffee. So that’s how his friends felt when he was like that. Shitty kind of feeling, he’s not gonna lie.

In a few hours and two more packets of I.V. fluid kid was better, not so ghoulishly green in the face and less choking on his own breath. It was time to talk some sense into him. Walking into a room with a sick person in it is always hard so some psyching up was needed. Graves slapped himself in a face a few times and entered. Boy was laying there, on his bed, in his home, suddenly so miserable and distressed and small looking, curled like a fetus on his side, face wet with tears. Like a punch in a gut, that is heart-wrenching. Percy tries to be understanding and gentle

- “Hi, sweetie. Are you feeling any better?”

Soft murmur is almost inaudible

- “A bit. Thank you.”

That’s probably bullshit but at least he’s trying to be polite, so some progress was made.

- “Do you want anything? A glass of water maybe?”

Boy whispers something Graves can’t hear. Dammit. Now for even more pointless asking.

- “I can do anything you want, really. I know full well how bad you feel right now, kiddo. Let me help you.”

Credence coughs a few times and rasps out an answer Percival was dreading

- “I would like to stay here, with you for a while. Maybe even longer. It’s nice, your place, it’s real and lived in and so homey, you know. Feels like someone actually lives here, not like a fucking dollhouse I exist in.”

Oh, here we go. That’s why Graves doesn’t help people. Fuck, how to lay him off now, when he found himself a “knight in shining armor”, a savior from his horrible life. Damnit!

- “Listen, kid, you might think that your life is the shittiest, worst life in the whole wide world, that you were robbed of your happy childhood with your loving parents in your pretty mansion with awesome toys but you’re wrong. You are privileged and pampered and don’t have any clue what outside life is like. You’ve never worked for anything, never really struggled and you never will because you’re rich. That woman won’t have any power over you when you’ll turn of age and on your merry way you go, all parties and no worries, until the end of your days. This is not your life and this life is not for you. There is not a single goddamn chance you could survive on your own.”

- “So I’m just some kind of spoiled rotten brat for you, ha? I’ve expected that, kinda predictable, really.”

- “Can’t fucking deny what’s there. Money corrupts people. I get it, okay. You’re bored. Having everything doesn’t satisfy you no more, so it’s time to mess with other people’s lives. Now, lemme tell you something - I don’t wanna be messed with. At all. I have my shit to deal with, so please, can you not add to that pile. It’s kinda huge as is.”

Credence starts crying for real now. Huge tears, sobs, and snot coming out of his nose. Fuck, it’s only got worse. Percy needs to do something quickly, so, in a state of complete and unfiltered panic he leans over a boy and gives him a full body hug, pressing wet face into a fabric of his shirt. Kid is wailing, grabbing him like he’s drowning. Graves clumsily pets his head and back and tries to murmur something soothing. Crying stops in a few minutes and Credence just lays there, pressed into him and breathing heavily.

- “Listen, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. You’re not a complete stranger to me and I care about you but that’s not something I have a lot of experience with. Suff like that is hard for me, I don’t know what to say or how to feel. I want to help but I don’t think I’ll be helpful.”

- “This is all her fault! That disgusting, vile, worthless bitch ruined my life. She’s always onto me and it’s hard for to be genuinely disinterested and unenthusiastic about things I like and she knows that and uses that knowledge to get to me every single time. Concealing my true feelings, my real identity, being fully aware of how I act, how I talk, how I move is a fucking torture. That repulsive scum of the Earth is always ready to strike and always happy to do so. I hate her, I’m tired of this and I just want to be myself, to be accepted. It’s so draining not only emotionally but physically too.”

- “Well, I’m sorry for you, kid, but there’s nothing I personally can do about it. It’s your life and the power is yours. Tell her to piss off, take the situation into your own hands and do whatever you like. And whatever she does to you isn’t your fault. You are stronger than this and you can fight her back. Take what’s yours   and leave.”

- “As soon as I turn twenty-one. Next week. I’ll do it! Thank you, Percy.”

- “That’s the spirit! I’ll support you as much as I can, but, ultimately, you are the one to do it. And I believe you can.”

- “Thank you.”

His eyes are glimmering and he’s smiling beautifully. Fuck, Percy is so screwed. Boy leans in and parts his lips a little. Oh no, Graves feeling the huge mistake coming yet still goes with it. The kiss is soft and chaste, Credence’s hands all around him and gentleness of this encounter melt the rest of coldness inside Percy’s soul. They sit calmly, still hugging and kid finally drifts off. The man decides not to leave his side and falls asleep next to the boy. It’s the best night of sleep he had in years.

Morning is hazy, they hurry back to the mansion but before leaving the apartment Credence kisses him again, morning breath and all, still that doesn’t bother Percival even a bit. They drive in nice silence, holding hands, boy now sitting in a front seat and it’s magnificent. He’s probably falling in love, fuck. Before leaving the car kid turns around and with a serious look tells Percy something that both comes as a shock but also as an old news

- “I’ve liked you from the first day we met.”

- “You know, I kinda got that from all of your flirting.”

Boy blushes heavily.

- “No, you weren’t sneaky at all. But that was sweet. I like you too. Now go before we get in trouble.”

Credence squeezes man’s palm before climbing out and going inside. Oh good God, what did Percival got himself into?

*Credence’s Birthday*

So, the day has come. Twenty-first birthday of Credence Barebone, the single richest miserable boy in the world. Percival was ready, he bought the present and cleaned his apartment, leaving beautifully packaged box in the middle of the bed. Champagne, strawberries and chocolate cake in the fridge, pressed suit on, few spritzes of cologne - he was prepared as fuck.

Driving up to a highly decorated front gate Percy spotted the man of the hour himself, dressed more casually than Graves expected. Tight leather pants, plaid shirt, and a mesh tank top. Yes, sure, he looked incredible in the getup but how about the fancy party they were supposed to head to? Something definitely went wrong, kid never came this far to meet him.

Credence almost ran to a car wasting no time on climbing in, close to Percival. They both smile

- “Hello to you, birthday boy! So what’s all of this is about?”

- “Hi, handsome! Well, we discussed my party with aunt Mary and I’ve decided to spend my day the way I actually wanted to. So we’re going to a club my friends booked up and we gonna party ‘till we drop! Cool, ha?”

- “You had a fight, right?”

- “Yes, we had one. But I’m a legal adult now and I can do what I want to. So let’s go!”

- “Are you sure that it’s a good idea?”

- “Oh come on, old man, don’t be such a grouch, just join me for a bit of harmless fun. We’ll have everything - drinks, drugs, food. Let’s go, you really need something like this just about now. I personally know how big of a cunt my dearest aunt can be, so, for putting up with Auntie Cuntie’s bullshit you need a good reward. Forget about her and let’s roll!”

- “Okay, but I’ve warned you, just by the way. If we’re gonna get into something you’ll bail us out, it’s kinda your turn.”

- “Fine! And don’t be so grumpy, you’ll like it, it’ll be fine, you just need some molly and life will get peachy!”

- “That’s not the best idea you’ve had. Let’s not get high at all, okay. It’s bad for you!”

- “So why’d you smoke then? It’s bad for the health too, you know, it’ll destroy your body eventually.”

- “Oh yes, I’m well aware of that. But tell me, sweetness, what’s not gonna kill you these days? The air we breathe is polluted, the things we eat are highly processed, everything around us slowly goes extinct, diseases becoming more and more potent and garbage litters our habitats, even going into space. We’re fucked as a civilization and as a species, we’re doomed as a society. Why should I care about lung cancer or heart attacks when I have a bigger chance of dying even before that can happen to me. And, then, why do people who live “healthy” lifestyles are still dying of the same things. Yeah, I don’t really give a fuck anymore, if it’s doing nothing to help or harm me really, why stop.”

- “Well, fuck. That kind of life philosophy is deeply flawed and quite depressing.”

- “I don’t really care much about that.”

- “Maybe you should, and things in your life won’t suck as much!”

Percival chuckles

- “ And maybe I want something to finally suck me off.”

Boy’s face flushes in pink so fast upon hearing those words. It’s delightful seeing him flustered and hiding his eyes. So cute.

- “The rant about smoking was sarcastic actually. I wanted to quit for a long time now. Who knows, maybe you’ll help me.”

Credence is even cuter now, hopeful and happy and so adorably helplessly sheepish with affection. You can feel the waves of adoration rolling off him. Such a sweetie.

They parked next to the club and Percy recognized the place.

- “Is that the same place you did a drag night in?”

- “You’ve remembered it? Yes, my best friend works here and he’s, sorry, she’s booked for today.”

- “Tall, tanned blonde? She made a great girl out of you. But don’t worry, I prefer you as a boy hundred times more.”

He’s blushing again. This is so fun. They get in and place is decorated with every possible thing in the party store, bright colors and crinkling plastic everywhere. A huge group of people waits for them and cheers when Credence walks in. All those people are his friends. And he deserves each and every one of them.

People surround kid’s and congratulate him, wishing a ton of things and filling his hands with presents. Percival hopes boy is having a good and excuses himself to a bar. Well, he just can’t skip a celebration like this, so they are Ubering home tonight because he’s drinking.

Six Long Island iced teas and five White Russians later Percy is pretty shitfaced, relaxed and happy. The show in the background isn’t as obnoxious as he’d expected but maybe alcohol gave him more tolerance to that kind of bullshit. Music starts playing and everyone storms to a dance floor leaving him alone with bartender. Gesturing for a refill he hears footsteps approaching

- “Make that two, Candy. And put it on gentlemen’s tab. No lady should pay for her drink.”

Percival turns to find that drag queen from before sitting next to him, dressed in sparkly rhinestoned black leotard, insanely high heels and bunny ears, tail is probably somewhere there too

- “Hi! Did you want to speak to Credence? Unfortunately, I can’t find him in the crowd, but you might be able to do that from the stage.”

She’s laughing

- “No, deary, I wanted to speak to you. But first, the treat.”

And downs her drink in one gulp. Impressive.

- “You seem like a nice guy, I’ll give you that. And the benefit of a doubt. But our dear, sweet Credence has been through hell and back and I don’t want nobody hurting him, you get me? So, in case you don’t actually have feelings for him, stay the fuck away. Is that clear?”

- “More than clear, Ma'am. I do actually have feelings for him, and think that’s none of your business but, considering that Credence likes your company so much I won’t tell you to piss off right away. We can try to be friendly to each other at least.”

- “Well, I like your style. He chose right this time. Don’t break his heart or I’ll break your face. Bye.”

And she downs his drink too before leaving. What a bitch. Strong, confident, cool bitch. The bartender puts three shots before him, on the house. Graves waists no time and takes them one after the other. Oh Jesus, was that a moonshine? While he’s trying to remember how to breathe, kid jumps onto his back and squeals from glee

- “Best. Party. Ever. This is so awesome!”

He seems off, though, movements twitchy and weird, excitement clearly chemically amplified. This is worrying.

- “We gotta go, Credence, it’s time for you to get home. I don’t want it to be like the last time.”

- “I don’t wanna do that. Not now, not ever. That place is not my home, it never was. It’s just the house I live in. I don’t have a home since Ma and Pa died.”

This again. Dammit, Percy hoped not to provoke that type of conversation on the boy’s special night.

- “I’m talking about my home, kiddo. I have something there for you. That was supposed to be a surprise but I just couldn’t help myself. So, whatcha think? Let’s ditch them and go?”

Boy smiles so widely his cheeks probably hurt.

- “Okay, but gimme a kiss first!”

And they do kiss, boy’s tongue inside his mouth and weird taste with it. Graves notices the effects only when it hits him. That’s uppers. Credence shoved a bunch of molly in his mouth. Goddamnit. Alcohol and drugs hit him hard, all inhibitions lost and mind open to anything. Everything’s a blur, faces, shapes, lights. It’s all so bright and bizarre and loud. He remembers only fragments: dancing, kissing, drinking some more, singing, contests and doing coke of off Credence’s stomach. How they end up in the bathroom is a mystery yet the door’s closed and no one is there to interrupt them passionately making out.

When thin long legs cross behind Percy’s hips and pull him flush against kid’s crotch a brief moment of lucidity brakes through all of the substances bringing one sober thought - this isn’t right.

“Graves, what the fuck are you getting yourself into? He’s barely an adult, he’s technically your employer and his mental aunt will eat you with shit for breakfast. You are so fucked. Why are you doing this? Just say no. Politely decline his advances, go home, masturbate for a few hours and the next day it will be like nothing ever happened. He’ll forget everything, he’s so high. And you are high too. This is such a bad idea.”

The voice in his head, that annoying subconscious worm who ate his hopes and dreams, that piece of shit, was drilling his brains again with the usual. Although Credence’s advances were a good distraction, especially when he starts palming Percival’s cock through the fabric of his pants and moans softly.

Ah, fuck it. What did the kid yell the other day? YOLO? So be it, you really only live once, it’s time for him to live again. Maybe that’s drugs talking or maybe it’s just the years and years of suppressed desires coming back to him, but Percy was ready to party like he did long long long time ago and there was nothing to stop him. Finally.

And his lean beautiful body promised infinite pleasure, the most sensual good time on this earth. Goddamnit stop thinking about him this way. Fucking poet all of the sudden, this always happens when he’s high.

But all of the words in the world can’t describe the way Credence rubs himself against Percival’s body and how hard, hot and bothered he is. Oh, how strong is the desire to just devour him whole. They kiss aggressively, biting and wrestling their tongues, hands palming one another greedily. Boy is panting already, eyes dark with want and lips bright from kissing and moist with saliva. Percy’s dress shirt goes first, suit jacket and tie he cautiously left in the car before entering the club. Kid’s top follows, leaving him in mesh only which spikes man’s interest even more. Biting a pink nipple through the fabric, squeezing his ass and rutting into boy’s hardness with his own is intoxicating.

Credence is moaning louder and louder as less and less clothing separates them. Percival pulls his own trousers and boy’s leather pants to expose them both and rub themselves together. Kid’s jaw goes slack as he bucks into the hand pleasuring him and digs fingers into Graves’s back. The sting of pain only makes him hotter and now aforementioned leather garment is pulled down to Credence’s ankles and Percival is firmly between them, petting the soft skin on the back of boy’s thighs. Only thing latter can choke up is a desperate plea  

- “Back pocket, there’s lube. You’ll tear me with that thing of yours without it.”

Another wild kiss. Another breathless moan

- “Stretch me first, please. You’re fingers, I want them inside me. Hurry! I can’t handle myself no more!”

So Graves is lifting Credence’s whole body up into the air and propping him on a sink counter, boy’s knees squeezing Percival’s ribs while latter’s hands ran across untouched buttocks and loin. Prying said lube is a task in on itself and Percy has to open the package with his teeth, spitting chunk of wrapper on a floor. Lathering his fingers quickly he gently traces middle one between boy’s cheeks before teasing the tight ring of muscle with barely a tip. Kid shivers and pushes himself forwards seeking penetration.

- “Hold your horses sweetie. You wanted to be ready, right? So let me help you.”

- “Don’t tease me, please. I want you so badly. Percy, fuck me!”

- “Your word is my command, baby.”

And with that one finger is inside boy’s body. His hole flutters when Graves curves a fingertip upwards upon thrusting in, picking up pace. Credence moans every time Percival moves and soon he’s ready for more. The second finger goes in smoothly, joining the first, stretching hot, velvety tightness. A perfect litany of sighs moans and gasps leaves boy’s lips when his mouth isn’t occupied by Graves’s.

Leaving a trail of bite marks and hickeys, bright purplish-red against almost white skin Percy showers boy’s neck and collarbones in attention while adding the third finger in. Kid writhes and gasps trying to find purchase and to sink more on digits pumping in and out of his body. Wet sounds fill the room, boy is begging for more with his movements and noises and Graves complies.

Pulling out completely Percy gives Credence a soft kiss and before kid is able to say anything else opens up a condom he found in the same pocket lube was in. Just touching himself right now is too much, the head of his cock swollen and slick with pre-come. Unrolling the rubber slowly Graves hisses at the feeling. He hopes Credence is ready because he can’t wait anymore.

Pushing in slowly he looks into boy’s eyes intently, watching his expression, gentle not to hurt the kid. Surprisingly it easy, sliding inside to the hilt while Credence is tensing completely before going slack and moaning. He is tight, hot and trembling, delirious with raw want. As Percy’s trying to steady himself before going any farther boy starts rocking forwards, impaling his body on a hard cock, letting out soft sobs. When they change the angle kid goes ballistic, clenching around Percival, clutching his neck, clawing the back of man’s head. Graves repeatedly thrust into that sweet spot, grinding it some more.

All those drugs are messing with his ability to last and he is already getting closer than he would have liked to. Every friction sends a red-hot wave up the pit of Percival’s stomach and when they pick up the pace it becomes almost unbearable. Sharp jolts of pleasure make his head swim and hands shake. Boy’s breath, hot and damp against his skin makes him prickle with goosebumps, makes his nipples hard as he rubs their bodies together, chasing kid’s warmth, pressing Credence’s rock hard cock better them.

Throaty whimpers boy makes go higher in pitch, he quivers and trembles and rubs himself back against Percy’s skin. Rhythm is punishing, bodies move in perfect sync, everything else completely fades. Only them and sweet pleasure ahead. Kid’s shaking rasp voice in his ear begs for more

- “Don’t stop, please! I’m so close! Cum inside me! Please! Feels so good!”

Broken moans and gasps leave boy’s mouth while Percy earnestly thrusts into him, hard and fast, rocking the thin form underneath him, making Credence arch like a bow opening pale throat for further assault. They both are so unbelievably close, kid’s body clenching hard, core tight with anticipation and Percy can’t take it anymore, hoarsely moaning

- “Now be a good boy and come for me!”

And Credence unravels completely, almost shouting, convulsing, squirting cum all over their bodies, his body spasming chaotically, muscles fluttering, milking Percival’s cock. Graves climaxes hard, rocking himself into his sweet boy, grunting, and moaning. Aftershocks are exquisite, warmth and relaxed calm happiness fill them both. Embracing each other they pant for air and kid giggles. After a slow and gentle kiss, Percy pulls out and takes the condom off, tying it and tossing into a trash can. Credence pulls his pants up, face scrunching as the material touches his ass. Then chuckles softly when Graves gives him a concerned look

- “I’ve never been fucked like this before. Good God, I can barely stand. You’ll probably have to carry me to our car like a bride now.”

- “And I will. Do you need time to recover?”

- “Not really. I’m still very much high. Let’s go, we should come out if we wanna go anywhere.”

- “Did you plan this, by the way?”

- “Birthday sex? Yes. The best gift in the world! What else did you get me?”

- “Round two, if you’re a good boy.”

Credence most definitely is expected by that proposition and after hasty fixing their clothing both men walk out only to be ambushed by a cheering crowd. Fuck, they heard everything. Percival has no idea where to hide his face and how to avoid stares so the first drink in his proximity ends up in his mouth before he can even collect himself. And another one, and another one. It’s a bliss, being so hammered that nothing bothers you anymore.

He doesn’t remember how exactly did they get home, but they are in his bed, nude and cuddling, boy’s head on his shoulder, legs tangled together, hands wrapped around each other and for the first time in forever Percival feels complete. He’s loved and he’s loving back, all thanks to this disaster of a man lying beside him. Credence is amazing and deserves happiness and Percy will do anything to make his dear beloved boy happy.

The end.

P.S. Oh, hi there. Thanks for reading, please leave me a comment or like and reblog if you’d enjoyed it. Ask me stuff here on Tumblr and my other fics are here and here. Go bother me, I’ll be happy to talk to you. Bye.

[weshallneverrevolt]

Why Is Quake (1996) Good?

The question “are games art?” is usually answered not by looking at the game as a whole, but rather its more conventionally artistic components. It’s easier to critique a game’s graphics, music, and writing separately, using conventional rules.

And that makes sense: games are multimedia experiences, separate pieces of art glued together to make a new piece of art. But instead of looking at the pieces, we should look at the glue.

Because games are experiential, a major ingredient in that glue is what the player feels while playing. There’s obviously the important bits - fun and challenge - but there’s also fear, frustration, delight, and triumph. While they may watch characters experience those emotions (as in a film), they also experience them directly. Because of that, games blur the lines between performer and audience in ways other mediums simply cannot.

id Software’s Quake, with its pioneering 3D technology and signature art style, is a prime example. Its simple mechanics and barebones story are primitive tools, but in the right hands extract the most important emotions of the horror genre. But most interestingly, it hits on parts of horror that are only possible through a video game.

To say Quake broke ground is an understatement. It was a game of firsts, or at least nearly firsts. There was the engine, an astonishing mound of code that brought 3D graphics to an ordinary home PC. There was also the level design, one of the best uses of verticality in a pre-Super Mario 64 era. Its multiplayer’s stratospheric skill ceiling also ushered in a new era of competitive gaming, effectively creating eSports.

But the idea was old. id Software had just made Doom, a game with a similar premise: you are the strong and silent type, you have lots of guns and move very fast, and everyone wants to kill you. Kill ‘em back and get to the exit. Both games are first-person shooters, both games feature labyrinthine levels, and both games borrow from a pantheon of horror influences.

But Doom and Quake are actually pretty different games. For one, Doom is laser-focused on combat, whereas Quake encourages more exploration. Doom’s levels run a steady pace, but peak occasionally; Quake is more stop and go, more off and on.

The aesthetics are distant cousins. Doom is a mashup of sci-fi, demonic horror, and 80s metal. It’s loud and bright, with shiny red demons, multicolored explosions, beams of energy, and glowing green goo. Your character’s avatar grins at you from the bottom of the screen, his blood-covered eyes igniting with rage as you reach low health. As you zoom around, guns blazing, you’re played off by low-rent industrial synth music.

Doom is cheesy. It’s what most games strive to be: fun. But if it’s a grin and a wink, then Quake is a thousand yard stare. It’s mean. It’s difficult and dark, with zero comic relief.

The setting is the main differentiator. Doom took place in real - well, “real” - places, with recognizable names: Mars, Hell, Earth. The maps themselves were designed for player enjoyment before realism, so they are not true-to-life, but the roots are in reality.

Quake trades plants and refineries for crumbling castles, dark crypts, and military citadels. The player is told they are visiting “dark dimensions,” other planes of existence that benefit from humanity’s aesthetics, but none of its influence. Indeed, these dimensions seem to have no purpose at all, other than to harbor Lovecraftian monsters that annihilate the first creature to walk in. That first creature - your avatar - has no face and the personality of coal.

These chaotic, disorganized collections of death are built with the singular purpose of killing you. Their designs are good for nothing else: the castles were not made to protect, the cities never built to house people. Through their dingy halls, squelches, roars, and rattles echo in the darkness. Wherever you are, you are not safe, and you are very far from home.

A core element of good horror is a sense of unease, of wrongness. You do this by messing with your characters’ (and viewers’) sense of safety. In the real world, we get spooked by the dark but end up home safe. In horror, home is no longer there, and the people who protect us no longer protect us. We’re vulnerable and alone. Quake does this with its setting.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) had a similar trick: a small town with no name, where stranded visitors are targeted by Leatherface...only to find out that the entire settlement is controlled by his cannibal family. When hope finally arrives, it’s in the form of a passing truck driver who picks up the now-hysterical protagonist as Leatherface dances in the sunset.

King’s It (1986) and 11/22/63 (2011) use a similar technique of an adversarial setting: the fictional town of Derry, Maine. Derry and the monster that kills its children seem to be intertwined, a place that has achieved sentience. The narrator of 11/22/63 explains the wrongness present in the town, an unnatural energy that puts him ill at ease:

This was the town where Harry Dunning had grown up, and I hated it from the first. No concrete reason, I just did. The downtown shopping area, situated at the bottom of three steep hills, felt pitlike and claustrophobic...running through the center of town was a canal filled almost to the top of its moss-splotched concrete retaining walls with black water.

So while Quake’s setting captures that feeling, it does more than just show it to you: it throws you in. You, the player, are the one experiencing that unease. You feel uncomfortable, and hated, and afraid. You are the one struggling to survive. A film can show that to you, and literature can describe it in a way that is nearly real. Because you interact with Quake, that setting can influence your emotions much more directly.

It’s channeled to the player through the game’s incredible feel. The movement is perfect, and you run so fast that you might as well glide. Your speed allows the game to throw hundreds of monsters at you, to rain grenades from hidden alcoves, to impale you with spikes from mounds of flesh bound to the walls. A good Quake session will make you jump in fear, tense up in anticipation, and slump back in your chair with exhaustion.

Horror fiction reaps obvious benefits from such power, but other games have done it too. When Aeris dies in Final Fantasy VII, you are not just losing a character in a story: you, the player, have lost a valuable lifeline. Aeris is a useful healer, and losing her shakes the player’s sense of confidence. That feeling connects you with the emotion of the game’s story in a way that merely showing it to you cannot.

So when someone asks “are games art?” Quake is a surprisingly good example. Its graphics are poor by modern standards; even at the time, its groundbreaking 3D visuals were more an advancement in gameplay possibilities, rather than realism.

But if art is designed to be an emotional experience, than Quake succeeds magnificently. “True” horror games like Resident Evil borrowed little from Quake’s mechanics, but a lot from its presentation: a world of hostility, danger, and uncertainty that can only be appreciated when experienced rather than merely seen.

Perhaps the real question is not “are games art?” but rather “are we good artists?”

Quake is available on Steam and GOG, and can run on virtually any computer. I recommend playing with Quakespasm, a “source port” that helps the game run on modern computers.

[writing-is-my-guilty-pleasure]

Credence Barebone Headcanon || Deaf s/o

Based on anymous’ request: Credence headcanons with a deaf s/o.

Main Masterlist

FBAWTFT Masterlist

•   Credence bumping into you on the street, and apologising, and being slightly      puzzled when you don’t seem to acknowledge him

•    Him going to Jacob’s bakery and spotting you there, and he tries to get your      attention Jacob watching curiously

•    Him watching you while he hands out flyers, and you always seem to be with      a woman with curly blonde hair, who, he learns later on, is called Queenie

•    One day he finally musters the courage to talk to Queenie while you and her      are together, and awkwardly asks why you always seem to ignore him when      he tries to talk to you, as it’s starting to feel rather rude and he doesn’t know      why

•    Queenie blinked at him in surprise, before she let out a small, tinkling laugh.       “She’s deaf sweetie.”

•    You tugging on her sleeve questioningly, tilting your head at Queenie, who      then begins to sign everything her and Credence said, and you begin to sign      apologetically, Queenie translating what you were saying.

•    Credence being horrified that he hadn’t recognised the symptoms, and      therefore trying to make it up to you by begging Queenie to teach him sign      language

•    Credence being so nervous during his first attempt at a conversation with you      that his hands shook so badly when he signed that you couldn’t understand      him

•    You signing to him ‘Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite’ and after a while, his hands      finally stopped shaking and oh my god he was actually talking to you

•    After a while he began to escort you around instead of Queenie, as she said      that he got along more with you, but she slipped him a wink

•    Him pushing down his feelings because he doesn’t feel he’s good enough      for you

•    One day he can’t take it anymore, and signs to you that he needs to talk to       you with such a scared expression on his face that you start to panic       because what if he leaves you

•    When he eventually gets to the point of confessing and asking you on a date      he signs it so quickly you have to ask him to sign it again, and when he does,      you have to sit there for a minute, and just when he thinks you’re going to      turn him down and walk away, you pull him into a tight hug, before pulling      back and signing yes rapidly

•    Him beaming widely, face full of relief as he clutches your hand tightly

•    The two of you never being able to argue without bursting out laughing,      because it is extremely hard to argue through sign language without      Credence making odd and adorable faces as he tries to sign as fast as he      thinks and speaks

A/N: Woo two updates in a day! I don’t have any experiences with deaf people, so I’m sorry if I didn’t write something correctly, feel free to let me know if I did though! My requests are now going to be open so I’ll have a lot of new things to write!

[purple-urself]

Hey if you want to could you please post some spoilers for the dark prophecy under a read more? If you don't want to that's totally cool I'm just kind of dying to know more haha

Heads up! This is basically like the barebones of the plot right here so don’t read it if you don’t want to know!

OKAY SO the book opens with calypso breaking her hand and foot trying to fight off monsters WE’RE OFF TO A GOOD START

Out comes a BAD ASS 60 YEAR OLD WOMAN to save the day, bringing the Gang to a secret hide out called the Waystation. It’s a little bit like the Labyrinth, and has a mind of it’s own. 

We learn there is also another BAD ASS 60 YEAR OLD WOMAN and it turns out they’re HELLA GAY TOGETHER and have an ADOPTIVE CHILD. These are all Good Things, except for the fact their 7 year old daughter was kidnapped by the Big Bad.

The first bad ass old lady is called Emmie, and she was around 4000 years ago. Apollo actually made her a goddess, before she went of and joined the hunters. Needless to say Lester is Salty. 

Emmie’s lover is called Jo/Josephine, and she’s a freaking daughter of Hecate that specialises in mechanical magic, from the 1920′s. She was also part of the gangster scene, tho I don’t really know much about it, so I was a bit confused rip. 

There’s an oracle in town, but the oracle is really dangerous. I gives people visions that can turn them crazy, unless they sit on a special throne. Jo and Emmies daughter (Georgie) was given the visions, but the Big Bad has the throne, so she was turned mad. She was then captured. 

Rick tells this story better than me okay

Anyways, it was revealed pretty early that the Big Bad Emperor guy is Commodus, and he (also) has a “history” with Apollo *WINK WINK*

they were together

So, some goddess that “dresses like a wannabe anime-character” (RICK’S WORDS, NOT MINE), tells apollo to rescue some griffins that were captured from the Waystation. Apollo and Calypso go, leaving leo to work with Jo to build-up the Waystations defences. 

Calypso and Apollo don’t get along very well, WHICH I REALLY LOVED OKAY. BICKERING QUESTMATES IS A REALLY GREAT DYNAMIC TO READ. 

But they do manage to save the griffins, and find a certain daughter of demeter a long the way. 

When I say “find” I mean, she saves their sorry asses.

The way Apollo so obviously cares for her and her well being honestly touched me, Rick did a fantastic job of portraying their relationship together. Apollo was constantly using big words like “abuse” in his narrative to describe what Nero had done to Meg. It was refreshing to read.

They go back the the Waystation, talk about how they’re going to save Georgie. This time, Leo and Apollo go together, a long with Meg. 

They find a bunch of prisoners, including Georgie, and Leo gets them out whilst Meg and Apollo look for the throne. 

They find it, but then they stumble into a trap, a gladiator arena where they are forced to fight. After a bit of a scuffle (Apollo rides a frickin elephant okay) the Hunters come to the rescue ayyyy.

They go back to the Waystation, sit Georgie on the throne and she spews a prophecy about apollo going to the oracle. 

Apollo goes to the oracle

Along with meg

The others stay at the Waystation, because it’s going to be attacked by Commodus.

At the Oracle, you have to drink from two rivers in order to prepare your mind. Apollo does this, but Meg doesn’t. 

Meg ends up being the one that gets the visions, and she’s about to die. Apollo gives her the kiss of life, sucking the dark energy out of her basically. 

Apollo collapses the oracles cave, with some help from a bunch of monsters. The Oracle had asked him to do it. 

They go back the the Waystation, where the battle is just dying down. Commodus has Emmie, Georgie, and Leo as hostages. Apollo shows his “true form” and blinds all the Baddies. Commodus swears vengeance and promptly falls out of a window, only to ~disappear~.

It’s reveal the Hunters are hunting something called the “teumessian fox” (???) so they leave. 

Meg is put on the throne, and she spills the next prophecy, which was in the form of a shakespearian sonnet. 

They all speculate what it means, there’s stuff in there about Frank, and Camp Jupiter. Apparently they’re going to be attacked in five days time. There is also a line about “The Cloven Guide alone the way does know.”

Meg goes to the roof of the Waystation, and MAKES FREAKIN GROVER APPEAR OUT A A FREAKIN PLANT

AND THEN IT JUST

ENDS

It was really good, i’m just not very good at telling it rip

[imaginesfrommetoyou]

Unconditionally (Credence Barebone x Reader)

A/N: Based on a request for a Credence imagine where the reader is a no-maj psychiatric med student that’s helping Credence through the trauma and abuse he has faced. Hope you like it!

“How are you feeling today?” You asked the young man in front of you. His dark hair was growing out, starting to get curly as it framed his face.

“Happy,” he told you, looking at his lap. His words were always short when he spoke to you, his eyes always looking away from yours. You wrote down during each session during the year you had been seeing him that he was a guarded person, doing what he thought he had to in order to avoid being in trouble.

“That’s good, Credence,” you told him with a smile. “Are you happy for any particular reason?” He didn’t respond. “Did you go out with your friends? I know that you mentioned your friend Newt last time; you said he knew a man with a bakery. Did you go there?”

“I didn’t go anywhere.”

“Do you want to talk about what’s making you happy?”

“I’m in love,” he whispered quietly. He fidgeted in his chair, his hands pulling at his sweater.

“That’s great, Credence!”

“I’m happy to love her,” he began lowly. “But she doesn’t love me.”

“Did you talk with her about it? Perhaps she does feel the same, Credence,” you pointed out as you took a quick note in your book about his feelings.

“I don’t see her much, but she’s the most important person in my life,” he admitted.

“But you want your relationship with her to be more,” you concluded. He nodded, looking up to look at your face that was filled with understanding. “You should try to see her more. It would help show that you’re interested and give you a chance to know her better.”

“Will she love me?”

“That’s up to her to decide.”

That evening you went out to a small boutique. You were searching for a new dress to wear to a party your friend was hosting later that week. You were searching through one of the racks when a blonde woman poked her head through and looked at you with a bright smile.

“Can I help you?” You exclaimed quietly, a hand pressing to your chest to try and calm your racing heart.

“You’re Credence’s doctor!” She smiled brightly. “He talks about you a lot, always saying that you help him so much. I’m really pleased to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you responded with a tight smile. “So… you know Credence?”

“He lives with my sister and I,” she explained, walking around the rack to come stand beside you. “Are you looking for something here?”

“A new dress. My friend is having a party, and I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I love making dresses! You have to come home with me, honey, I have the perfect dress for you! ”

“I, uh, I don’t really kno-”

“It will only take a few minutes,” she pleaded, pouring innocently at you. Finally, you gave in with a sigh, allowing her to pull you out of the store. “I’m Queenie, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

When you entered her apartment, you were greeted by the sight of Credence and another man sitting in the living room. Credence was still wearing his black sweater from earlier. As soon as he noticed it was you following Queenie into the apartment, he sat up straighter, his eyes lingering on your relaxed expression.

“Mr. Scamander, this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N,” she introduced you to the other man that was walking over to you.

“Actually, I’m not a doctor, yet,” you corrected her softly. “I still have to take my tests.”

“Well, it’s still lovely to meet you,” he greeted you with a small smile.

“Likewise,” you replied kindly. You saw Credence nervously inching towards your small group, your eyes flickering to his as you gave him a smile. “It’s nice to see you outside of the office, Credence.”

He just gave you a shy nod, watching as Queenie tugged you back to her bedroom where the dress was.

“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” She questioned as she searched through her closet for the dress. Your eyes widened as you stood by the window, a hand running through your hair nervously.

“H-He’s my patient,” you stammered out as she turned around with a smirk.

“And?”

“It’s against the rules.”

“You sound just like my sister,” she huffed out jokingly. “What’s life without a little risk, Y/N? I know that Credence really likes you, maybe even loves you.”

“He did bring up a girl in our session today,” you trailed off, thinking about what he had said that afternoon. Were you the girl he was in love with?

“Go talk to him, I’ll be here looking,” she ordered gently, sending a wink in your direction. Your cheeks heated up as you briskly left the room, heading into the living room to find Credence sitting alone.

“Where did Mr. Scamander go?” You questioned, causing him to jump and look up at you from his book.

“His room,” Credence stated. “I can go get him if you want me to.”

“No, I want to talk to you about something,” you said nervously. Credence’s eyes shot up to yours, your breathing faltered as he genuinely looked at you.

“Did I do something?“

“No, it’s nothing bad,” you rushed out, noticing the scared look in his eyes. “I just… I was wondering what you would think of I asked you to join me for dinner tomorrow?”

“Is this a part of my healing process?”

“No,” you murmured, sitting beside him on the couch. “This is me asking the man I have feelings for to dinner. I was talking to Queenie, and she helped me to realize that what I’m feeling isn’t bad. I have to accept that I can’t stop thinking about you, Credence.”

“Y-You don’t mean that,” he stuttered out, looking at you through his shock. “You can’t love me back, you never showed me love before this-”

“I was following the rules. But now that I know how I feel, all I want is to break the rules.”

“You don’t even know how important you are to me,” he whispered. One of his hands shakily moved up to brush against your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you breathed out before he pressed his lips softly to yours. When he pulled away, there was a dazed look in his eyes and a faint trace of a smile lingering on his lips.

“I never thought I’d fall in love with a doctor,” he chuckled.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a doctor,” you laughed. “So do feel free to fall in love with me.”

“I already am.”

[tkreactions-blog]

Their Reaction to an Unexpected New Year’s Kiss (Fantastic Beasts)

(Post by Mod T)

Newt Scamander

Newt was in New York for the New Year and you weren’t going to miss out. You met him at the dock and walked with him through the streets, to Queenie and Tina’s apartment. Somehow, you got passed the landlady and into their apartment in time for the bustling party. You didn’t understand how the sister’s managed to get so many people inside without getting trouble, but you weren’t going to comment. As long as it remained quiet enough, you figured there was nothing to worry about.

Newt proved to not be the social, partygoer, which really wasn’t a surprise. The two of you mainly stuck to the side of the party, talking about the differences in traditions between England and the US. There weren’t many differences, but it was still something fun to talk about to see what was different. “There’s one thing I know is the same,” you stated as the countdown began. As soon as the cheering started and the cries of “Happy New Year” resounded, you leaned forward and gave Newt a quick kiss. He stared for a moment before looking away, a blush on his cheeks. He nodded slightly.

“That… that is the same…” he muttered, smiling just a tad.

Jacob Kowalski

You were a little disappointed that Jacob was caught up in his bakery. You were hoping he could go to your New Year’s Eve party. Sure, the MACUSA didn’t want anyone mingling with the No-Majs and all that, but that was why you were having a No-Maj friendly New Year’s Eve party. Most of them were actually pretty open-minded. It was no longer the days of the Salem Witch Trials, after all, despite what the New Salemers wanted anyway.

It didn’t matter much, though. No one caught you and if they did, you could always testify to the fact that you never use anything magical in front of them. It was really easy. The evening was still early currently and you were working on getting everything you needed for the party, that included some nice sweets from a local bakery. Jacob had no idea you had been planning this visit ever since he stated he would be backed up with orders. You slipped inside practically unnoticed amongst the crowd and waited in line. Once he caught sight of you at the counter, his smiled largely and his eyes twinkled. He didn’t have much time to talk, but you gave him your order. Once it was done, you leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips. You pulled back with a small wink and a grin as he just stared at you, his lips spread apart in a grin. “Happy New Year,” you said before walking out.

Queenie Goldstein

You were one of the first to arrive at Queenie’s party. It only seemed appropriate to help set up, all things considered. You also brought some sweet treats to help contribute, not that you figured Queenie would need any assistance. She was grateful, though, before shooing you into a room with Tina and a few others so she could finish her final touches. The party steadily grew, with most partygoers using clever ways to get into the apartment. It was nothing too large, considering it was still just an apartment, but it was a decent size.

You didn’t get to see Queenie too much. She was, after all, the hostess and it was only polite that she make her rounds and make sure she talked to everyone. You weren’t worried though, you already had a plan for the New Year countdown and you hunted her down as the last minute began to countdown. The whole room began to ring out with the final countdown. Once the midnight bell struck, you turned to Queenie and gave her a kiss, which she returned without hesitation. Despite the countdown, she didn’t get distracted from your thoughts.

Tina Goldstein 

You were excited for Queenie’s party, if for no other reason than to see Tina. You didn’t figure she would partake in too much of the party going, but it was always fun to tease her. Besides, her landlady only cared about men, right? Either way, you knew there were going to be plenty of people at the party and plenty of opportunities to give her a hard time. And Queenie was more than happy to contribute.

You made sure to get people riled up and Queenie made sure to announce new food or see who needed a refill of drink. Tina kept shushing you and trying to keep everyone quiet. She followed you around, either giving you one of her looks or trying to lecture you about keeping things quiet. Eventually, she cornered you and you couldn’t help but tease her for how she was always getting in trouble. She started lecturing about how it wasn’t her fault and it was people like you and how she let you get her in trouble. You grinned as the countdown started and she seemed oblivious to it. At midnight, you kissed her, effectively getting her to stop talking. You pulled back and she stared at you, a flush on her cheeks as she tried to regain her train of thought.

Percival Graves

Somehow, you got suckered into working late rather than being allowed to go to any of the New Year’s Eve parties. By the time your shift was over, it was already the New Year. You stepped outside just in time to hear the end of the festivities, causing you to sigh rather harsh in the back of your throat. You decided you were going to somehow get payback on Graves, though you couldn’t swear he didn’t lock himself in his office all night. Just was you were wondering this, you happened to see the man walking down the street.

“Off already?” he asked. You stared at him a moment, wondering if it was some sort of dry humor or if he was serious. He chuckled a little and glanced around, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Don’t look so upset,” he responded. You paused before grinning slightly, seeing your chance to one-up the man, and in a rather enjoyable way as well. Without saying a word, you moved closer, leaned in, and kissed him. You held it just long enough to ensure he didn’t gain his senses before you pulled back and walked passed him, not noticing the intrigued look on his face as he watched you walk away.

Seraphina Picquery

Madam Picquery was busy at work in her office and you knew it. You had already spoken to Graves and he confirmed she planned to stay in the office. You weren’t sure if she just wasn’t the festive type or if there was something pressing she had to worry about currently. Either way, you decided there were no excuses for hiding away in an office on the eve of New Year’s so you were going to go give her a distraction.

You packed up a picnic basket of sweets and champagne and headed back to the building. Making your way through the doors and to her office, you knocked several times before she finally responded and told you that you could come. She gave you a stern look, clearly not happy you were pestering her and asked what was so pressing. “It’s New Year’s Eve,” you stated. She still didn’t look impressed. Despite knowing she was going to try objecting, you laid everything out from the picnic basket. She let out a sigh, as if knowing she was going to have no way around this, and stood up from her desk. With a grin, you waited for her to walk around before leaning in and giving her a kiss. She hesitated from surprise before, very briefly, returning it and breaking it, changing the subject to the goodies you brought.

Credence Barebone

You were surprised to find the New Salemers were having a New Year’s Eve party. The MACUSA didn’t like anyone to go near them, for obvious reasons, but you were curious to see what it was like. Not to mention, you still liked to look out for Credence and this was the perfect opportunity to ensure nothing foul was afoot with that mother of his. So, you decided to take up their invitation and go to it, knowing full well there was going to be plenty of anti-wizard sentiment there. 

Of course, it was a lure for their anti-wizard sentiment. Credence’s mother made her speech and you tried hard not to roll your eyes. The attendance was sparse, and you thought about slipping out and heading to a better party, like the one at Queenie and Tina’s. Then you saw Credence, standing in a corner after the speech and sticking to himself. There was something rather adorable about how uncomfortable the whole party made him, so you made your way over. You tried to make it seem as if you didn’t know him, in fear that his mother would do something crazy. Credence seemed almost too scared to talk, so you decided to try something else. After making sure the cost was clear, you leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Happy New Year,” you added. His eyes widened and his cheeks turned red. It looked like he wanted to say something, but no words could come out.

[crdncx]

Be Sweet To Me p. 1/2 (Credence x Reader)

In which: the Reader suffers from migraines. Credence is a healer at St. Mungo’s.

Notes: @obscure-black-clouds said it would be the perfect endgame for him and that got me inspired :) It’s intended to be a two-part fic & this half is mostly building the scene for Things to happen in the second one.

Word count: 1.046

It was always a strange place to find oneself in. Decorated to remind you of home, no doubt, but still strange – and full of strangers. Every so often, on average once a month, you’d end up in here, surrounded by lovely, yet undoubtedly artificial smiles.

St. Mungo’s. At first the name had seemed like a sentence more than anything.

The day you woke up here for the first time and a sweet, concerned healer explained to you what had happened, you’d been terrified. You’d been out for several weeks, only coming to your senses after a series of complicated procedures. She then proceeded to explain it, but you refused to pay attention. The only thing that repeated in your mind, drawn in blazing letters behind your eyelids when you closed your eyes: the damage was permanent. You’d have to come back here every time the symptoms returned.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault, really. A misfired jinx, strengthened by some sort of a field, that just happened to hit you square in the chest. The last thing you’d remembered was an approaching light you’d had no time to avoid. Then you woke up in this bed.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault and you knew it, but forgiving was still difficult.

Especially when you landed here again and again. Your migraines proved impossible to be alleviated by neither a potion nor a spell, so each and every time you spent over a day in complete darkness and silence. Every sound, every ray of light, every smell left you in agony. Usually, you needed a week to come back to full strength, because even when it would stop hurting, your stomach still twisted at the sight of food.

The healers were certainly helpful, but didn’t help. Couldn’t help, not really.

None of them, except for one.

When things would become unbearable, when you couldn’t stop yourself from whining for someone to make it stop (even though you knew the sound of opening the door or the sickening flash of someone Apparating within your room would send you straight into fiery pits of Hell), he was there. You never asked how, because you had a feeling it would end – besides, you were half mad with pain, you might as well have made it up. A cool hand on the nape of your neck, fingers extending towards your temple while you desperately pressed the hurting side into the mattress.

He had large hands, but they only ever soothed. No sign of danger, ever, even though sometimes you’d wished he’d just strangle you and make the pain stop.

It was one of those fragile days when sounds still seemed too loud and the sun could barely peek through the curtains without causing you discomfort. You’d finally gathered the courage to ask the healer what exactly was going on.

He was one of the youngest healers, sweet and shy, tall, but constantly trying to make himself smaller, shoulders rounded, hands tucked to his sides. Only his hair wasn’t under perfect control, sticking out to all sides into a wild, unruly mess. You appreciated how he never talked unnecessarily much, only asking (with that unique accent of his – it was quite pleasant, actually) how you were feeling and if you needed anything. Your question clearly caught him off guard.

He opened his mouth – undoubtedly to say no – but then walked to the door and closed it. There was a smile both mischievous and nervous on his face. It reached his eyes, so unlike the other healers’ expressions.

You blinked and he was gone, dissolved into a cloud of black smoke.

You’ve heard the rumors about an Obscurial in St. Mungo, of course, but you’d always thought it was contained in the Janus Thickey Ward, not working there as a healer. It was certainly a surprise, but you weren’t scared. You knew him, you knew his hand on the nape of your neck, his steady presence every time the very core of your being had turned into the pits of hell.

You blinked again and he stood there, last tendrils of black sinking into his skin. Apparently, his control was impeccable. You couldn’t help but smile at such a show of power.

“You can control it!”

“…I’m… going to assume you know what I am, then,” he muttered, looking at the floor, not at you. “And yes, mostly. If I stick to the less excitable patients, that is. The Obscurus has a tendency to do everything to protect me at the least desirable moments… For example, getting a blood sample from a ten year old. The kid yells, swipes at me… and then yells some more, because his healer is now a cloud.”

You found yourself grinning and hoping he understood you weren’t laughing at him.

“Mr. Barebone… is this why I’ve never seen you using a wand?” You asked with genuine curiosity. He sat on the edge of your bed.

“Well, yes. Imagine Mr. Scamander’s disappointment when no wand chose me,” he answered, visibly relieved. Well, you hadn’t screamed, at the very least.

“You know Mr. Scamander?”

“Oh, yes. He’s…” He looked thoughtful. “A father figure of sorts. Have you read the book?”

“Just started it, it came out a few weeks ago and with the symptoms flaring up… Didn’t really feel up to it,” you explained. “But I’m looking forward to finishing it.”

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lighting up with a thought you weren’t brave enough to ask about.

“I should go, there are other patients. But if you need anything, just ring the bell.” He stood up and walked to the door, turning at the sound of your voice.

“Mr. Barebone? If it was possible, would you give up all that power?” It was a stupid question, you knew it and you were convinced you just blew a chance at a lovely friendship with this strange young killer, but he actually decided to say something.

“Without hesitation.” He didn’t look disappointed, mad or sad. His steps seemed lighter instead. “Just think about having to ask your power very nicely whenever you need something, instead of simply waving your wand.”

You might have misinterpreted it, but you could swear he winked at you with an air of a shared conspiracy.

And then he left.

(tagging @ithilnarmo - if you want to be tagged in the second part or all of my stories, let me know!)

[mysticmysterywrites-blog]

Prompt #6

FAKE DATING FAKE DATING. So, you know those plots where two people start off fake dating, however over the course of the story end up genuinely pinning after one another?? Lets do it.

Okay, so my character has an issue where he absolutely does not want to go to the yearly Christmas party his family has alone, because he's petty and bitter about circumstance. Like what the fuck why does his He's-not-gonna-say-sister but sister get two lovers when he only has zero?

So, he narrows it down and decides to ask someone to come with him to act like he's been dating them for a while, because FUCK you.

Thales is about 6'2, with darker skin and dark brown hair. His eyes are ALSO brown, but like light honey brown. U know the color. He's actually genderfluid, but defaults to He/Him pronouns and switches depending on the day. I probably won't focus too much on that aspect of his character on this roleplay though, so you don't have to worry about suddenly switching pronouns. He's about 23. He can be a bit odd sometimes, but he thrives in that oddity and fully acknowledges it. And if he HAS depression, he's DEF not admitting it to anyone but himself. I'll let you learn more about him and his family throughout the roleplay, but thats like the barebones basics of shit.

I'm going to roleplay out his family members and other various characters that will pop up, so you don't have to worry about that. Just have fun reacting to the various shenanigans that come with fake dating plots and shit. Descriptions of his family members, and pretext he knows about them will come up as they pop up in the roleplay.  

Character wise, I'm good for anything. He isn't particularly picky about who he dates (Or, fake dates in this case wink wink nudge nudge). Just like, have them be around college age and you should be good to go. Also, you don't have to match. Double also, we can do NSFW like WAY later in the roleplay, but only if it naturally leads up to it.

Thales had a bit of an issue.

It was a serious issue. Like, something that couldn't be brushed off his shoulder and forgotten about. SOME might say it was an issue he himself had created, but he wasn't some, and he was taking this with the upmost care. He needed someone to go with him to his families Christmas party. Spend a week or so with him and the folks until New Years. You know, have a few laughs, watch a few movies. It wasn't that he didn't like his family, per-say. No, no. His family, while a bit... dysfunctional, was pretty great. It wasn't particularly a evil reason either.

However, call it something akin to.. Er, sibling rivalry. His twin brother was /apparently/ bringing his boyfriend around for the first time (Which, if you ask him, was about fucking time. There was no way in hell he hadn't been dating him for at least five months now. His brother had always been a bit more secretive with his relationships then he had, but still. Yikes) and his.. something of a sister (not blood, not adopted, but definitely family at this point), was bringing not one, but two people with her. Like. Two people she was fucking. How the HELL-

He couldn't just NOT bring someone after hearing about that shit.

He considers, for a moment, just asking his EX to go with him. She always did love his family, and she had an interesting sense of humor to boot. It would be an easy lie to spin. They'd gotten back together after a small fight, that she just kind of wanted to come around and see them again. Except. Well, that small fight hadn't exactly been small, and he's reminded very quickly that he kind of broke her heart. And both his brother and sister-but-not-sister knew basically every detail of the fight. He knew, because sister-not-sister had basically come at him with knives.

Besides. She was dating some hot punk lesbian now. And well, she'd probably stayed in better contact with his brother then he had. He wouldn't be surprised is they'd invited her to the dinner as well. (Which, yikes)

So, off the table.

Next, he considers asking his roommate to come with him. He's hot, his brother knows he's been pinning after him, and he thinks, for a moment, that he'd get along pretty well with his family. But when he explains the situation to him, the man raises an eyebrow at him and tells him "You know I work weekends and holidays,"

Asshole.

Which really, left him with a final choice. It wasn't like he could bring any of their mutual friends with him. And he had... a lot of mutual friends with the two of them. Nah, they'd rat him out to them in a heart beat, because that was just the kind of relationship he'd had with them. And, you know. He'd kind of lost contact with a lot of them. Which, more on him then it was them, he supposed.

No, no. He needed to bring someone they didn't know. Which could work out well enough. It was an easy lie to spin "I wasn't sure about the relationship so I didn't want to say anything," or "I mean, I got caught up with school. I can't announce everytime I go onto a promising date." It would be perfect material to work with. And hey, maybe it wouldn't be too hard to find someone to go with him. He could give them.. what, probably three hundred dollars, some really bitchin Christmas food, something to do for the holidays? It would all add up pretty well. Plus, he was sure he could go out of his way to get them something nice for Christmas.

So. That just meant two things. He actually had to find someone that would accept the offer.

He didn't have a death wish, he wasn't going to just post something online and hope for a reply. And everyone he talked to online lived way too far away to justify a week long Christmas trip to his families.

So, a bit harder then he thought it'd be.

In what he wouldn't admit is desperation, he starts to consider people even he doesn't know too well. Those odd one night stands would be a bit too awkward for is liking, so any of those were off the table. He didn't trust anyone he'd met at a part he'd gotten too drunk to remember the name of, so that was also out. He didn't talk to too many of his classmates, and he was willing to start to brush that option off. Then he'd considered.. Hm. It could work.

He hadn't talked to them too much. They'd worked on a project together back in first year, and managed to end up lingering about in some of the same classes every now and again. He sat next to them in one of them, and the most that they'd really talked about beyond their current projects and ideas was "Well hows the weather." Still. That was familiar enough for him. And, to his own admittance, they're not bad on the eye. Worst thing that could come of this is that it all goes wrong, and he ends up needing to move seats in this course.

And if it worked out well enough.. Well, he'd certainly have his brother off his back.

So, he works out how he's going to approach them. What all he's going to offer them in return for And come next Monday, he's pulling himself up onto the table in front of them in one of their shared classes, trying to pretend the look on his face wasn't one of mischief. He's dressed up for this and everything (It's a lie, he goes out of his way to try and dress up everyday. He likes to look fashionable, and if that means styling his hair and rolling up his sleeves and applying a bit of blush then hey? Why should anyone fucking judge him)

Still, he does go out of his way to put something nice on. He's not going to lip, tuck his shirt in like a pretentious asshole, and he does NOT wear a fedora because, sorry does he look like a fuck boy? But he wears a button up with his skinny jeans, hasn't bothered to slip off his jacket with the odd bits of faux-fur poking out, slips on the pair of shoes with a slight heel on them despite the ice outside. He focused on smoothing out his nails the night before, and even if they aren't painted he likes to think the look is drawn together regardless.

"Hey there, you're looking good today" He says, a trill to his voice. His words are light, like they're suppose to be teasing, and the playful tone he tends to keep his voice in really doesn't help. Despite that, the compliment is genuine, and he finds himself glancing them up and down to gauge their reaction, "I'm going to make this one quick for you. I have... a proposition," He clicks his fingers together as the words fall from his lips, and offers a hearty grin, "Come on. I know you're listening now."

[backseatballads]

Murrindindi Camp

Magandang Buhay sayo lahat! 

For those of you out there who don’t know me, my name is Anthony Luis Lawang... better known as Lamaroc, the dance alter-ego that’s brought just about the same amount of joy as it has sadness haha. Who’s to say that life is meant to be smooth sailing all the time anyway? ;9 Drama’s aside, this post isn’t going to be about me, but more so about us. A concept that seems to be prevalent in all my works as an artist... even if not as apparent as my fake Filipino accent tickling your inner-ear as a call-out to the lack of brown pride of being chill and familial. 

Having spent the past month in Osaka, Japan with brother man Huy Le: “...the Poster-boy of Backseat Ballads...” as he tells me of how others view him, I thought to ask him if I could do a write-up about the crew since my fingers were getting itchy and my exit from the main social media platforms (don’t ask, it’s a long story) meant that I wasn’t writing as much as I had been since 2012. After the tumultuous year that was 2017, I felt like I’d been put through the Nutriblender enough times to finally write a piece that I can say is the smoothest, tastiest, heartfelt smoothie you can drink this side of 2018. 

Before jumping in though, the last time I ever wrote for this blog/website was back in 2015-16 for our efic “Ficnic” trip. Somehow the intentions to keep on writing and making videos of our time together instead transmuted into Huy’s passion project known as the “Pogi-SawSaw x Backseat Ballads” mixes/radio-style shows. And so through spending the past month as housemates in Osaka at my ex-wife’s house (sounds like a rom-com doesn’t it?) here we are writing about my first camping experience with my brothers and sisters at Murrindindi. *Note: soundtrack to this writing meditation is “SUPER MARIO HISTORY 1985-2010 FUN!!!

;9 ;9 ;9 <- That's three winking, smiling faces with their tongues out ;9 ;9 ;9

It’s funny how things go full-circle, albeit not as perfect as the lines meeting up. As if drawn with ultimate precision, but more like the calligraphy-style of the Japanese “Maru/丸" done with a brush the size of an adult human being. As a viewer of such simple art, you can see the amount of pressure, speed and flow that goes into the circle as you see the gradient of the ink tell you the story of the powerful miracle that is the circle. As the end of the line is deliberately disconnected from the usual perfect Maru, the opened-endedness of the circle couldn't be a more perfect example of how other's, including myself were allowed into an amazing group of loving individuals known as the BACKSEAT BALLADS.

Here I am, back in Melbourne after 3 years in Osaka. Returning from a failed marriage and beginning my own healing process. Let me state first, that the failure is not to be blamed on any individual/s but can be attributed to the circumstances that became what I've labelled it as. Logically, I jumped back into everything I once knew was, and quickly realised that things WERE not, what they used to be. Suddenly, I'm thrown back into my seat, having to contemplate how to move forward when everything around me, reminded me of what I'd built and been a part of my life prior to giving birth to our daughter. Here is an artist, who walked away from his creations, expecting that he could just walk back and pick up from where he left. How very naive of him...

Having seen and more specifically felt (through some crazy psychic sibling connection) what I was going through, my sister decided to invite me to a camp with her crew of mates. Man... I remember thinking: "I haven't been to camp since primary school, and the last camp wasn't even camp because we didn't even stay the night." So of course I was excited, and bringing a guitar with me, we departed from the area real late at night. After a bit of zigzagging and meandering through Victoria's north at breakneck speeds and a Major Laser soundtrack, here we were in pitch dark in front of the national park's camping site map. Whilst our driver Thai was discussing where to set-up with the other drivers in our entourage, the smell of fresh air almost neutralised the rolled cigarette I had in hand, and the negative-ions of the eucalyptus trees brought a sense of calm and comfort I hadn't felt in so many years.

And like a Special-Ops mission, we jumped back into the car, parked a little further up, and the whole squad of about 10 or so people switched into automatic mode, unpacking their vehicles and setting up the tent in pitch black. Slightly disorientated by the immense organisation of the crew, everywhere I looked, the members of this camp were busy setting things up in different areas of the space we were to joyfully occupy that weekend. I can almost recall the hustle and bustle of that arrival, as if it were a construction scene of a fort of some military group from the medieval times, with people zipping across the screen from all angles while our protagonist spoke to the person in-charge about what mission lay ahead. 

Here we had the sisters setting up the stove, cooking, eating area on a wooden bench, which was to be our outdoor kitchen whilst the brothers on the opposite end were effortlessly assembling the sticky, puzzle work of the tents that were to be our sleeping quarters. Stumbling back and forth to whatever I could lend a hand to, there was already efforts made to start the campfire in the centre by of course no other than the fire master himself Thai Tran. He'd brought all the wood himself and only later sourced out dry fire wood from the campsite itself... Working and sweating together to build something you can all enjoy and call your own... wow... what a way to feel part of something almost instantly.  *Note: soundtrack to this paragraph “GERUDO VALLEY" - Legend of Zelda 25th Anniversary Soundtrack. EPIC!!!

While I have toiled and tumbled with some of the best dance crews of the day, our environments were usually more "hostile" to say the least. We were always strategising, making tactical efforts to make a distinct plan of attack towards realms of battle like competitions and dance performances, but there hadn't been, for the better part of my memory, moments like this that were just as intense but towards a much more peaceful cause. You see, having a career in a realm that's predominantly competitive, at least in my own experience, there was hardly a time when we actually got together and worked on something with that concerted effort to bask in the fruits of our labours. It was always to represent the image and reputation of a name or value or principal to uphold, yet what I came to realise when we finally sat around the campfire and started drinking and vibing out, was that it was these moments and that sense of belonging that I had actually been yearning over all those years. 

Here was this 30 year old, nearing his birthday, amongst a group of mid-20 year olds rather, that seemingly had their shit together, having found a way to escape the hustle and bustle of the big smoke and the careers they were chasing. Like a shooting star that came in bursts, longer than a split second of being visible; new neuron pathways were going off in my mind that left me with a new vision of hope. In hindsight, what this crew of lads and ladies were presenting before me was the returning to barebones culture... a way to go off-grid, to get out of the matrix with all the cliches of popular trilogies. That first night was like rocking up to someone's place, setting up the backyard deluxe mode, drinks and music devices ready except the backyard you were going to was in Mother Nature's heavenly realm and the speakers were our voices! Haha! BOOM! Here [we] were, speaking and laughing at the top of our lungs, not concerned about noise restrictions while getting smashed on shots of the poison of choice. The guitar was out and we were singing medleys of whatever those 3 or 4 chords could muster up with all it's drunken splendour. Who would've thought that "F**kin' Problems" by A$AP Rocky was gonna be rapped over a nylon string guitar? What were these blessings from the Creator being bestowed on me, and what was this simultaneous coolness and cheesiness I was experiencing? Who the f**k were these kids and how can I suddenly be thrown into a pool of seemingly average individuals that [are] into the same shit that I was into? It was like heaven and hell merged together and God and Satan were having a brewski laughing about worldly matters and it was all good.

For just a moment, gone were my hang ups on feeling guilty of having these things... These desires to be part of a crew that seemed to tick all the boxes. Something so Filipino, yet different in all the best ways. No pretentiousness, no bitching, no self-celebratory vibes, just all-round good conversation, a soulful collaboration of singing, drinking and just being bloody merry. After polishing bottle number we've-lost-count, with guitar in hand, I could see how loose this crew was getting. Our medley had done a Hiphop Merry-Go-Round, losing our shit at how many times Joe would bring back that A$AP Rocky song back into the fold. Just when we thought we'd be taking it in another direction, here he was abruptly throwing that song back in with such conviction. We'd cracked up so much that it didn't matter that it was the 4th or 5th incarnation of that chorus... how pivotal that was for me to regain a sense of my inner-smile. 

How I could see almost every member of that camp, sing from the bottom of their stomachs and wail with all that passion, it was like seeing people vent their frustrations by yelling at the top of their lungs across an empty chasm. How much I felt the love when we sang about love, that later I would discover to be the whole crews cathartic response to the stressful world around them even if silently doing so. If only these guys knew how cathartic it was for me to observe them and being welcomed to be part of their outdoor rituals. Even if they didn't realise the healing power of what they were doing, at least subconsciously, deep down they instinctually knew why these camps provided them with a sense of relief from the ever-changing economic landscape that was Melbourne and whatever that meant to them. 

This crew had, what crews I had previously been part of had sadly lost. This usually was a result of a break-up or division between members, or groups of members within the crew where ego's clashed and where there was no returning... perhaps from not properly addressing issues as they were arising that would end up blowing up into a massive outburst, or being unable to tackle head on the feelings of honesty and the confrontation it took to sort these important underlying things out. This is perhaps why this written piece is directed at this wonderful crew I can proudly say I am a part of. After all these years of interacting with them as a tight self-contained unit, I could careless these days about anyone else who doesn't contribute to this commune... of course, with the door slightly ajar for any other potentials that could fortify the love that we create. See for me, my delusions of chivalry and community stay alive within the Backseat Ballads. The name itself is more than a literal analogy for the dramas of my life and for the better part a simple combination of two words that can tell the world about who I am... and I wonder if the crew can say the same thing about themselves in a similar context. 

Perhaps this continual commitment and support we have for each other, even if unspoken of those certain values and principals that are of the utmost importance to us is something that happens naturally when we are together. That's not to say that there aren't issues behind the scenes, and that certain people are unable to be part of the good times and bad times as often they would like to be, but really, in this narrative of holding onto what's dear and the challenges we would face doing so; it's as simple as literally setting up a camp, gathering or party and quite literally "airing out" whatever needed airing. In my experience, there's things we cannot control, but if we can control where we make time and place our foci on, then there's no reason why we can't focus on spending time together even when the glue isn't that strong.

Deep down, I hope the absence of Huy Le here in Australia and the realisation of how much effort he put into curating, hosting and organising these gatherings is something that would make us pull our pants up and pull our weight to maintain the legacy he opened up for us. More importantly, in retrospect, we should try to remember what we all contributed individually to the wonderful and timeless memories we shared... even if that meant just rocking up. Sure, we're all getting "older" and "slowing down", with more and more responsibilities popping up, financial and other, but I do hope that our affairs in the "real world"doesn't drop a veil over your eyes to say that what we do as a crew isn't just as important. 

Without making it sound overbearing, 'cos I mean our gatherings were always so laid back 'cos Huy and other key members were the magic to make it all happen, but that these camps and these gatherings, despite the splintering off of different groups within the group itself, were all essential for the intermittent escape we needed from the bullshit of the so-called "real world". As a matter of fact, I know for myself, in much more hyper-realistic circumstances, this place we know as the "real world", of contributing to a cold society that doesn't really care about you, but expects you to give it everything, was something that I allowed to become my internal-inferno those end days living in Japan. 

Unfortunately, that experience was in hindsight the end and the death of my romance of the illusions with her. If only in Japan I had such a group that I could be that close to, that could be so supportive as to being able to stand side-by-side with that I could and would savouringly build a tent with regardless of hail, rain or shine. The individuals that I may not interact with much outside these group gatherings, yet when face-to-face, I could talk to about the many different things and pour my heart out to if I needed to... while they honestly tuned in. Someone I could sit beside and sing the same lyrics with, the two of us releasing different yet powerful emotional energy through different interpretations of the same song. If that were the case, those many years ago, then perhaps, in blatant allegory, I wouldn't be here writing this little piece and still be side-by-side with my 5 year old daughter... 

As I wrap this piece up, I ask of you, even if you're not part of the crew, to take a memory of the unity you may have felt with those close to you and remember the smiles and the sense of belonging you felt, even if only temporarily... and then ask yourselves if there is still room for that in your life. Please don't replace this favourite past time of ours and make a concerted effort to keep this tradition alive. For surely, if there is still room for this in your life, even if only in thought, then one day soon hopefully, through a concerted effort, you'll all be in each other's company again, sitting around a campfire, chin up aimed at the stars, releasing and letting go of our woes and celebrating life by ironically singing: "F**kin' Problems"... Hahahaha~ what a cheesy way to finish up... let's embrace it and oh btw... you can change that song with any other anthem that means something to you and your people. 

One love truly.

Anthony Luis Lawang