#It Owns A Multi-Level Mansion In My Brain

[lunarthing159]

Hello, Hi, I've Arted A Fella

Doodle Of Prince Scott From @cherrifire 's MLP-MCYT AU, He Is Receiving A "Dear Princess Celestia" Friendship Letter

[armchairaleck]

Sadly for me I have come to the end of my writing ideas for one shot stories which means I am now faced with the unpalatable dilemma of trying to actually write and finish one of my long fic ideas, and this level of commitment fills with me with existential dread.. well actually I think other shit does that and I write to try and forget the yawning chasm that opens up beneath me, but oh well, never mind eh…

I currently have four multi-chapter WIP ideas all of which exist in various degrees of very unfinished states on my hard drive, none of which I’m certain I can complete, but even so, I will outline them below, I will ponder them, I will be totally open to any suggestions that probably no one has..

Viren Origin Fic

Okay so my TDP original idea was always to write Viren’s background and relationship with Harrow from around age 13/14 right up to the start of the show... the main problem with this is - all the known cannon stuff seems to squeeze everything into about 8-10 years in the middle, while leaving the decades on either side of his marriage up until the magma titan debacle like a blank void of stuff I would have to make up and get totally wrong - due to my blinkers with Viren, my desire to make the world a lot darker than it’s probably supposed to be, and my unshakable belief that Harrow and Viren’s friendship becomes a twisted and suffocating vine that sucks them both into the pit of their own poor moral morasses.. but is also all they have.. and it’s sad..

So the plus side of this - I just really kinda love to explore the Viren/Harrow, Viren & Kpp’Ar, Viren/Lissa relationships, along with Sarai… I also love the slow descent of Viren from carefree boy, to loving dad to errr… not loving dad?

Down side – I could start writing this and find it is totally blown out of the water by the new cannon that will appear this summer and that often derails me, because while I am absolutely able to misread a character and their motivations and level of evil intent, like a fucking pony prancing around a field on a spring day.. I can get oddly OCD about additions to story cannon that mean this could very easily get destroyed and then I would have utterly wasted my time… also there are A LOT of missing pieces to fill in..

Viravos dead souls fic

Urgh, following on from this.. I also thought I could round it off with some vaguely cannon Viren/Aaravos.. um.. two years dead lost souls fic.. that could also be a stand alone. So for some reason my brain did not go down the horny Aaravos emerging from the cocoon s3/s4 gap fic, that people might actually want to read, and instead went to the hey.. what if Aaravos had to give the traumatised soul of Viren two years of therapy, in space, while his body lies on earth stitched in stasis.. anyway, it’s basically a lot of moping and angst between a middle aged man regretting all his life choices and a near eternal elf who has been irreversibly psychologically damaged by 300 years of solitary confinement.. fun times? This is not.. I also want to give them an unrealistic level of softness here because I'm pretty sure Viren will get no happy ending and I want him to have something.. I’m a sap and I have to just deal with this sad fact..

The plus side of this - I guess.. oh.. I don’t even know if there is a plus side.. people might want to read it? Until they discover that for an E rated fic it will really offer them nothing at all.. just slightly traumatised bad sex.. well, haha, that’s all my E rated fic to be fair…

Downside - I cannot really write Viravos to save my life.. meh..

Viren/Kpp’Ar Gothic AU

Alright, I switched this to gothic for more historical leeway and more opportunities for brooding, crazy mansions, resurrection and ghosts in the attic.. anyway.. this is a time when humans have fucked the world up even more fully, when they have destroyed nearly all magical components and dark mages are a dying breed of unhinged self-destructive maniacs that make Jack Parsons look sane.. I have a vague outline for this stitched out that I will probably expound upon in a different post, it’s pretty dumb and deranged and exists mostly so I can write some Viren and Kpp’Ar together..

Plus side of this – I mean despite the fact I’m patchy on the historical details I do love me a bit of gothic - brusque anti-social Kpp’Ar energy, mixed with Viren channelling his inner hysterical lady vibes… (just kidding olden days hysterical girls with smelling salts, you could never be as overwrought as Viren gets in front of a mirror..)

Minus side – this is literally as ridiculous as it sounds, there would be A LOT of plot I would have to write to fill inbetween the main beats, and I would probably have to do a lot of research.. watching old black and white horror films and reading the first 100 pages of gothic novels that I’ll simply forget to finish.. sigh.. okay maybe I’ll do the research and forget the writing..

Cyberpunk AU

Welp.. despite the last one, this is probably the most insane of all my ideas and exists solely because I wanted to ship Viren with Ibis… What? Why did I want to do this? I have literally no idea, except that often for some reason my brain will think.. oh.. I wonder what would happen if those two completely incompatible characters that have no way to actually get together in cannon met up and had a fuckin ridiculous and unlikely relationship that literally no one else in the whole world would care about?

So despite the fact that I know I don’t have a quarter of the world building chops necessary to actually write this, I have thought about it quite a lot..

Dumb things this AU contains:

A physical border between human kingdoms and Xadia where armies are constantly lined up in a don’t blink first cold war scenario…

An online version of the breach that separates the shitty human commodore 64 8-bit level of technology from the apple mac in 100 years sleek levels of advancement the Xadians have achieved..

That humans, god bless their ingenuity, have discovered a way to hook into, in order to try and steal the technology of the five nexus powers and boost themselves out of the depressing state of their own existence..

Defection from Xadia to the human kingdoms by various elves who have grown tired of the 1984 levels of state surveillance imposed on them by the dragons.. and who now work with the humans as primal jumpers, i.e. those who can get into the breach naturally..

Dark jumpers, who are social pariahs with both humans and elves and destroy everything they touch.. as per cannon..

Zero magic in the human kingdoms because they’re so awful of course they’ve destroyed it all, they rely on the dirt and smog of fossil fuels, while Xadia is renewable and magical all the way, but also under the grip of dictatorial state control.. seems like you just can’t have it all eh..

Just the whisper of Aarovos existing out there somewhere in the online breach like Jeff Bridges in Tron Legacy…

Weird pseudo sex pollen stuff that I would really have to remove to stop a decent into pure insanity..

Um.. drugs.. this is cyberpunk and the ONLY cyberpunk type stuff I have read is either by Philip K Dick or is Neuromancer… which means I figure cyber punk just has to involve a heinous amount of drug taking, which is probably inappropriate for a kids cartoon fic..

Alright, this makes total sense in my head but I am aware that trying to write it down makes it sound pretty nuts..

Plus sides – none?

Minus sides – I think those have all be listed above… so I should probably leave this here…

Alright, that's all I have thought about, which is probably for the best..

Honestly I do not know what to do here, maybe work on everything concurrently and finish nothing.. maybe do nothing.. maybe try and learn to draw better so I don’t have to worry so much about writing and plot and pacing and world building.. maybe wait for the sweet inspiration for a one shot of below 15k words to hit me..

..and yet I feel compelled to write SOMETHING.. which sorta sucks..

[nobody-wants-ice-cream]

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 5, Number Five.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

Run Boy Run

Extra Ordinary

Man on the Moon

Disclaimer: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

I would also like to add that normally you wouldn’t watch a show this way. I am purposefully looking for mistakes, easter eggs, and other things that we’re not supposed to notice. I am watching not with the goal of entertainment, but for analysis. So most of the things that I sin, I am seeing for the first time. 

Number Five

The apocalypse looks incredible. Well done special effects team! I know I already shouted them out, but they deserve another one. Or two. -2

Five shades Dolores with an umbrella. What a considerate dude. -1

Heat of the Moment is an awesome song. -1

Five’s survival gear. Well done costume department. -2

Also, the progression of skill and age is really well done. -1

Dolores’s little santa hat. -1

And her sunglasses. -1

“Do you remember that little mansion just outside city limits where we-- yeah” Noodle incident. However, the way Five says this implies that I really, really don’t wanna know. +1

Argyle Public Library. Suddenly the reason why Five went there makes sense. -1

How did Five get all the way up there on the library walls? Did he use a ladder? If so, that was begging for him to fall and break his name. +1

Sean Sullivan (who plays Old Man Five) does an excellent job imitating Aidan Gallagher’s vocal patterns and movements. -1

The Handler is the first person Five sees after 45 years of isolation. +1

Title screen lunch box! -1

Also, Five kept a lunch box to remind him of his family. He had Vanya’s book but nothing else with their images on it. I’m sad now, but glad that Five at least had something. -1

Five is so hungover. +1

Luther looks like he’s about to cry when Five tells him about finding their dead bodies. My boy! +1

Tom Hopper is an excellent actor. -1

Five also looks like he’s about to cry. +1

Aidan Gallagher is an excellent actor. -1

Luther lifts up Diego and holds him like Diego is an angry toddler. This amuses me. -1

See! I told you. Diego figured out that Five was involved with the shootings at Griddys and Gimbel Brothers on Patch’s doorstep! -1

“They work for my former employer. A woman called The Handler.” No one in this show is allowed to have a reasonable name. +1

Underneath how callous Five is about Patch’s death, he shows genuine concern for Diego. -1

Diego has not slept at all. And he is planning to go after Hazel and Cha Cha. Good luck with that, buddy. +1

Luther finally gets tired of Five vagueing everybody. Good job, I’m curious too. Er, I was when this was my first time watching it. -1

The Handler decides to wear three inch red pumps to the apocalypse. +1

The Handler is as vague as a Multi Level Marketing schemer would be.+1

The Commission decides to wait 45 years to recruit Five instead of a more reasonable number. Like zero years. Honestly, if I was the Handler, I would have picked up Five as a young, impressionable thirteen year old. Then he would feel indebted to the Commission and wouldn’t have had time to come up with the equations to escape. The Commission has no logical reasoning skill. +1

“You’re saying that I could actually leave here? Go...go back?” Heartbreaking. Sean Sullivan gets another sin off. -1

“All of this, was supposed to happen”. Kate Walsh is a kick ass actress. -1

The Commission is composed of dicks. +1

Five asks Dolores for permission before running off to join The Commission. -1

Five’s mustache. +1

I would watch a spin off of Five’s time in the Commission. Hopefully season 2 explores this more. Dallas plot, here we come? Sin until we get some answers. +1

You can see Five’s epiphany in his eyes. His expression says “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” -1

The words on Vanya’s book look real. The props department did not have to go that hard. -2

However, whatever notes Five wrote are indecipherable. And for good reason if he was attempting to fool an entire time commission. -1

The fire extinguisher Klaus throws confirms for Five that the portal works. -1

Also, Five is clutching Vanya’s book. It’s like he’s nervous to see them again after so much time. -1

The fall from the portal to the ground doesn’t break, scratch, or hurt Five at all. +1

Also, Dallas plot foreshadowing? Remains a sin until we have answers. +1

I hope that they show Five picking up his hat, radio, gun, and possibly the fire extinguisher and that is why we never found any of those in a grassy knoll. Season 2 better resolve this. +1

“But that’s murder”. Luther, you threw people out of buildings when you were twelve years old. That is also murder. +1

Aidan Gallagher kills the delivery in this scene. Well done. -1

Klaus still has Dave’s blood on his hands. Also, putting Klaus through even more trauma. +1

Robert Sheehan and the heartbroken thousand yard stare. -1

The music choice really works. -1

That emotional, awful scream. -1

The briefcase exploding may foreshadow Klaus’s comic powers. Sin until we get answers. +1

Hazel and Cha Cha casually murdered Claudia. +1

“Unauthorized round trip travel to 1968”. This is how we found out where Klaus went. It requires a bit more brain power to figure out the Vietnam war from here, however, I think that this was a clever way to do it. It brings us back to the reason Klaus ended up there. -1

Honestly, Hazel was right to not carry the briefcase on him. If Five had seen it at Gimbel Brothers then he would have taken it because he knows what it is. It would be an insurance policy or could be used as leverage. Either way, Hazel and Cha Cha were going to lose their briefcase. +1

Allison, you were there when Vanya made breakfast plans with Leonard. Is the coffee and bombolini your way of trying to distract Vanya? Because based on the makeup and the nice scarf, it isn’t likely that you will be successful. +1

Vanya has a framed piece of sheet music. Either that’s some really valuable manuscript or its something kitschy. Either way, it’s a sin. +1

“What are you concerned about?” Vanya, the red flags are everywhere. +1

“Like a woman who’s based her whole life on rumors.�� Ouch. Allison is trying to give you genuine advice, Vanya. This was uncalled for.  +1

Leonard is getting progressively creepier. +1

“Can you imagine sharing your birthday with six world-famous assholes who all know they’re better than you?” Choke on that irony. +1

Leonard doesn’t stop her by saying, “Wait, that’s salt!” he waits until she already put salt in it.  Dick. +1

“What happened to the other girl?” Harold, you know damn well. +1

Good use of Beethoven. -1

Klaus is back in the bath. Bookends to his tourture. +1

Klaus is haunted by memories of Vietnam this time instead of just ghosts in general. Trauma. +1

I made eye contact with Aidan Gallagher again. +1

Klaus doesn’t want to talk about Vietnam with Five because the last time he tried to connect, Five jumped away. +1

Five looks really excited to connect about time travel with somebody in his family. -1

Five doesn’t care that Klaus was tortured by Hazel and Cha Cha. +1

Five, Klaus has been tortured and then was in some war (Five wouldn’t know yet) for almost a year. This proves that Five’s decision making is impared. Presumably by his hangover. +1

Diego takes out his dagger from episode 1’s bank robbery. This is significant because of something Patch said. That Diego runs around as a vigilante to prove that what he did with the Umbrella Academy had meaning. Now that that has gotten Patch killed indirectly, he feels upset and confused. The dagger that he used as a child is now a symbol of what he did to Patch. -1

The fridging of Detective Patch. Yes, I’m still pissed about it and will continue to be pissed about it. +2

At this point, Klaus doesn’t know about Mom’s “death”. And I don’t think Five does either. The Umbrella Academy of Not Talking To Each Other should be the school’s full name. +1

Allison and Cha Cha don’t see each other when getting into or out of the chairs right across from one another. +1

Allison is doing the equivalent of social media stalking her sister’s boyfriend. Smart. -1

Extra Ordinary bites everyone in the ass. Thanks, Vanya. +1

Five and Allison have the same slow, blocky handwriting. Did Reggie teach them to write as slowly and as large as possible? +1

Hazel and Agnes’s flirting. It’s cute? -1

Klaus ran down the stairs wearing Grace’s heels and broke his jaw when they were twelve. Trauma. +1

Diego can’t park for shit either. Diego and Five need to learn how to park vehicles. +1

Klaus’s little “Hey, Dave” when he sees Dave’s picture. -1

The show fakes out the vet confronting Klaus. Clever. -1

Diego is genuinely concerned for Klaus. -1

The vet is itching for a fight. Asking a drunk person to apologize? Dumbass. +1

“I’d like to apologize...that you are depriving some village of their IDIOT!” -1

Klaus and Diego get into a bar fight in less than five minutes. Checks out. -1

Agnes sees the birds the way Hazel sees normal people. I like the analogy. -1

Agnes does not own Griddys. Who does? Is she the manager or something? +1

Hazel and Agnes theme. -1

Diego’s face when Klaus says he lost the only person he ever loved more than himself. He’s thinking, “Klaus lost his Eudora”. -1

No way in hell Five would have been able to get up as high as the chalk goes. +1

Five is still using Vanya’s book as a notebook. Checks out. -1

The rifle Five pulls out looks a lot like the one he points at the Handler. It doesn’t look like the one he pointed at Kennedy. Why would Five lie about this? +1

Luther, you murdered people when you were twelve. +1

Luther dangles Dolores out the window by her neck. Logical, yeah. Fucked, also yeah. +1

The level of concern Five has for Dolores. -1

Also, well done creating tension, show. My heart was beating like crazy. -1

The Gigue from Partita No. 2 in D Minor by Bach is one of my favorite pieces.  -1

No one stops playing like that. +1

Allison takes her not-stalking info to Vanya and presents it really accusingly. At this point, Vanya is sick of your shit, Allison. +1

“You’re trying to dig up dirt on a guy that I like, who does that?” Everyone with an internet connection does this for the people they care about. What Allison did was hella extra though. +1

Vanya is getting more assertive. -1

Vanya is a dick to Allison. +1

“They’re a real frickin’ mess”. Understatement of the century. +1

Cha Cha wouldn’t know about the moon mission because Vanya’s book came out before it. Also, Vanya wouldn’t know that Five could time travel. +1

Diego you haven’t slept at all, as soon as you drop you’re gonna sleep like a baby. +1

The motel clerk doesn’t notice Cha Cha’s pistol, which was directly in his line of sight. +1

Diego doesn’t notice Klaus’s footsteps. +1

“Yeah but you also told me that licking a nine-volt battery would give me pubes” “We were eight”. Sibling culture. -1

Klaus saves Diego from gunfire the best he can. Even though Diego still gets shot, sin off for Klaus’s heroics. -1

“Was this all part of your master plan” “Shut up”. Sibling culture. -1

Audition panels are always dicks. +1

If you start an audition the way Vanya just did with the shaky bow contact, you’re fucked. +1

Imogen is a great violinist. Ellen Page is not. It’s really easy to see when they switch out. +1

Allison goes to Leonard’s place with no backup. Come on, even Diego has backup! +1

Allison doesn’t tell Five and Diego about how she got into Leonard’s house when they were breaking in again later. The window would have been much better than breaking the door. +1

Vanya’s powers are distorting her music. It sounds like her intonation is gone. Yet the conductor looks impressed. +1

Allison almost finds Helen Cho’s body. +1

The camera cuts to the attic entrance to show that it will be significant later on. -1

The Hargreeves car has HERMES on its licence plate. A.) nice comics reference. B.) Hermes is the God of Travelers. C.) Of course Reggie has a vanity licence plate. -3

Five and Luther connecting over their forced isolation. -1

Also, Aidan Gallagher and Tom Hopper play off each other really well. -1

“I’ve lived a long life, but you’re still a young man. You got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t waste it.” Luther’s face amuses me. -1

Five threatening while Hazel and Cha Cha doesn’t look ridiculous. I genuinely belive it. Props to Aidan Gallagher. -1

Five and Luther look so confused by Klaus and Diego arriving in an ice cream truck. This is such an underrated scene. -3

Ride of the Valkyries -1

Klaus’s little wave. -1

“Whee” I love Ben. -2

I want to know how they shot this. The behind the scenes after the Handler showed up and stopped time must have been strange to look at. -1

Luther protects Five with his whole body without question. -1

Five puts his hands in his pockets but then they’re behind his back in the next shot with no motion to explain it. +1

The Handler is a creep. She’s into Five. +5

Where and When did Five get that pistol? +1

So many memes come from this scene. -2

Five doesn’t have his finger anywhere near the trigger in some shots, but in others it’s two seconds from shooting the Handler. What’s up with that? +1

The Handler is so, so creepy. The hand caressing Five’s cheek? Eww. That all but confirms that she wants to be his Mrs. Robinson. +5

Kate Walsh plays an excellent villain. -1

Five made a deal with the devil because it was his only option. -1

[Gerard Way and Ray Toro’s “Happy Together” playing.] -1

Cha Cha was planning to abandon Hazel. Otherwise why else would she open the briefcase? +1

Ben gets shotgun. -1

Klaus finally gets to flip off Hazel and Cha Cha. -3

“SHIIT” Cha Cha, you got played. I love my smart boys. -5

Vanya did well at her audition! I’m proud of her! -1

Leonard knows the exact words Reggie would have used to describe Vanya’s powers. And he uses them here. +1

“I got first chair!” Congratulations, Vanya! -2

“No one’s ever believed in me like this.” Fuck you, Reggie. +1

Having sex with Leonard/Harold desereves a couple sins. +2

Helen Cho and Reggie’s book reveal. Leonard is a creep confirmed. +2

Dr. Pogo? More like Dr. Complicit in Reggie’s Bullshit. +1

Overall Review: 

In case you couldn’t tell, this is one of my favorite episodes. Finally, all of our characters are invested in the apocalypse plot, even indirectly. Vanya’s powers emerge, the Handler and the Commission enter the chat, and Leonard is revealed to be a murderer and to have Reggie’s diary. Things are really heating up in this episode. 

I had a really hard time finding anything wrong that wasn’t character flaw is character flaw and villain character is a villain. This is a fun episode. If I wanted to show someone an episode of The Umbrella Academy to get them hooked onto the show, I would show them this episode. It moves at a perfect pace and has enough mystery to keep everyone on their toes. When I first watched this episode, I decided to stay up all night and binge the rest of them. Before I was watching one every couple of days. Episode five is what really hooked me. Props to everyone that worked on it!  

I want to give a special shout out to Sean Sullivan. He did really well playing Five! I hope we see him in season 2 for that one scene. If you’ve read the comics then you know the one. 

Sins: 4

Sentence: Watching Klaus’s breakdown after Vietnam was more than punishment enough.

[lanaisnotwool]

416 Achieving impossible goals - Interview with Rod Khleif

http://moneyripples.com/2020/08/18/416-achieving-impossible-goals-interview-with-rod-khleif/

Have you ever noticed a big opportunity before anyone else… and just felt like the slowpokes who miss this are absolutely insane?

Well, that’s Rod Khleif when it comes to multi-family real estate.

His love affair started in 1977 when he was just 17. Mom bought a neighbor’s property that grew in value $20,000 in just three years.

He was blown away that she’d made $20k in her sleep and was sold on the power of real estate. That ROI meant a fortune to a poor immigrant family like ours who could only afford to shop at Goodwill.

2,000 properties later … He's gained a wealth of lessons, strategies, heartbreaks, and little known secrets to help you build endless wealth and cash flow through real estate.

In particular, that multi-family investment IS your safest, most reliable, and most recession-proof ticket to leaving the rat race and retiring rich, passionate and fulfilled.

Listen to our Podcast here:

https://www.blogtalkradio.com/moneyripples/2020/07/10/416--achieving-impossible-goals-interview-with-rod-khleif

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Chris Miles (00:00): Hello, my fellow Ripplers! This is Chris Miles. Your Cash Flow Expert and Anti-Financial Advisor. Welcome you out for a wonderful show. A show that’s for you and about you. Those of you that work so hard for your money, but you’re ready for your money to start working harder for you. Now! You want that freedom. That cash flow. That prosperity. Today! Not 30 or 40 years from now, if you’re lucky and the market smiles on you, right? But today, so you have that life of freedom being with those you love doing what you love whenever the heck you feel like it. But guys, it’s so much more than just your own prosperity and financial abundance, right? It’s about becoming a Rippler. By creating a ripple effect in the lives of others. Because as you are blessed, you can turn around and bless the lives of those around you. Now only in your family and generations beyond you, but even across the community and the people that surround you and you come in contact with.

Chris Miles (00:52): And guys, I appreciate you allowing me to create that ripple effect through you because without you guys, that would not be possible. Again, thank you so much for tuning in. For bingeing. For sharing with others. This has been fantastic. Thank you so much! Quick reminder. Check out our website, MoneyRipples.com There’s some great blogs on there, as well as the free ebook, Beyond Rice & Beans, Seven Secrets to Free Up Cash Today. That you can find now. So check it out.

Chris Miles (01:16): Alright, guys! So today I’ve got a special guest. I’ve got Rod Khleif here where I’ve known through reputation for quite some time. Both in the investor space, but also the business owner space as well. So definitely man of no small reputation. In fact, I guarantee that several of you have even heard him before, whether you’ve heard him speak or know of his, the different deals he’s done or whatever it might be.

Chris Miles (01:36): But a little about Rod, he is a multiple business owner and philanthropist who is passionate about entrepreneurship and giving back. So he’s got his own ripple effect. He’s creating himself. As one of the country’s top business, real estate and peak performance luminaries. Rod has owned over 2000 homes and apartment buildings and has built over 22 businesses in his 40 year business career. Several of which have been worth tens of millions of dollars. He started from humble beginnings and we’ll have talking to him about that, but now he’s big on the psychology of success and mindset and whether it’s in business or investing or whatever, it might be. Huge guy, but also a great heart does a lot with benefits and charities and the likes. So rod, welcome to our show!

Rod Khleif (02:16): Thanks, Chris! Let’s have some fun today. I appreciate you having me on brother.

Chris Miles (02:19): You bet! So I definitely want to save some of your story for these listeners. So those that have never been interest in you before, tell us more about you and what led you down this path.

Rod Khleif (02:27): Sure! Sure! Sure! So I’ll go back all the way. I immigrated this country when I was six years old from Holland. I was born in the Netherlands and with my brother Albert in my mother’s mansion. And we ended up in Denver, Colorado, where I lived for 30 years. And I’ll tell you, we didn’t have much growing up. In fact, well, you know, my mom bought expired food cause it was half price and she gave us powdered milk because she thought milk was healthy. And you know, and I grew up wearing clothes from the Goodwill and the salvation army all the way through junior high school till I lied about my age and got a job at Burger King and was able to buy my own clothes. But you know, and I’m sure you’ve got listeners that had it harder than we did, or maybe have been hard now with all this COVID nonsense. But thing is I knew I wanted more. And luckily my mom had an incredible work ethic. And so she bought the house across the street from us when I was 14 for about $30,000. Now, when I was 17, she told me it had gone up $20,000 in her sleep. And I’m like, what? You made 20 grand? You didn’t do anything? And so as a screw college, I’m getting into real estate. So I got into real estate when I turned 18, I got my real estate broker’s license and I was going to be rich selling other people houses. Well, my first year in real estate, I made about eight grand. My second year, maybe 10 grand.

Rod Khleif (03:41): But my third year I made well over a hundred thousand dollars. Which back in 1981 for 21 year old was some decent change. And so what happened between year two and year three, that caused me to 10X my income. Well, what happened was I met a guy that taught me about mindset. Taught me about psychology. How really 80% to 90% of your success in anything is your mindset in your psychology only 10% to 20% is the skill set. The knowledge. You know, if it was just the knowledge, there’d be a bunch of wealthy librarians and college professors out there. It’s the do. It’s the taking action. It’s to getting back up when you get your nose bloody. And so, you know, again, fast forward to today, I’ve owned over 2000 houses that I rented longterm, multiple apartment complexes. That bio you read from is actually dated.

Rod Khleif (04:24): I built 24 businesses. And yes, several have been worth tens of millions of dollars, but all the rest were, I call them, I don’t call them failures. I call them seminars. All the rest were spectacular flaming seminars. And because it’s only a failure, if you don’t get back up, you know, or you don’t get the lesson. But in 2006, my net worth went up $17 million while I slept. Okay. And you know, when that happens, people could tend to get a big head. Well, I got a big head. I thought I was a real estate God. And when that happens, sometimes God or the universe, whatever you believe will give you a nice little SmackDown. Well, that was 2008 for me. I lost that 50 million and a whole lot more. And I’m in the 17 million a whole lot more. I lost $50 million.

Rod Khleif (05:08): And one thing I like to talk about Chris, if we have time, is the mindset it took first of all, to have 50 million to lose in the first place, but then to recover from that and to the success that I’m blessed to enjoy today. So if you’d like, I’m happy to drill down on that a little bit, you know, or we can go talk about the mechanics and multifamily. Whatever you want to go. But I think…

Chris Miles (05:29): Let’s go that direction. Yeah, because I know they’ve heard my story about my comeback after 2008 and everything, but I know they’d love to hear yours and see similarities.

Rod Khleif (05:37): Alright. Well, I hope you didn’t lose 50 million brother. That’s all…

Chris Miles (05:40): Not even close. No.

Rod Khleif (05:41): Alright! Well, so how did I recover? Well, how I recovered was knowing exactly what I wanted and knowing why I wanted it. Now, I used to do sold out live events when there were live events. My last one was supposed to be in Orlando with 700 or 800 people. And of course we know what happened. So I’ve turned them in. They become livestream events now, and I had 900 people in my last one. One of the first things we do is what I’m going to share with you at a high level very quickly, is a goal setting workshop on steroids. Now, if you want to see me guide you through this, I did this on my Rod Khleif official page on January 1st. And I guide you through it with music and I give you a guide you can download and everything. So feel free to do that, but I’m going to give you the highlights right now. So what you’ve got to do is get real clear. So pick an hour when you have a lot of energy and don’t do it right after a meal, make sure you’re well-hydrated and sit down and write down everything you could ever possibly want in life.

Rod Khleif (06:37): All the stuff. The houses, the cars, the boats, the jetskis, the planes, everything. Take the lid off your brain. Imagine if you write it down, you’re going to get it, which is not outside the realm of reality because you know, I’m sure if you’re listening to Chris, that you already do your goals, but this is, this process is going to be deeper. So trust me on this. It’s not just the stuff, but write down all this stuff. Cause we want stuff. We all want it. The, you know, all that stuff and there’s nothing wrong with stuff, but we’re going to go deeper. So, but when you write your goal down, what it does is it trigger something in your brain called your reticular activating system, which is that filter that subconsciously you don’t even know it’s happening. Filters out. It directs you to what your brain thinks you’re interested in. You want to focus on.

Rod Khleif (07:22): And the greatest example is when you first buy a car. You never really noticed them before and you buy one and they’re everywhere. Were they there before? Of course they were. But that’s your reticular activating system. And that’s the power of reassociating with your goals as often as possible. So sit down, write down everything you could possibly want. Big things, little things, how much cash you want in the bank say in three years, how much cash you want 10 years also write down how much income you want from your investments. Say in three years, and in 10 years. Then write down what you want to do in your lifetime. Maybe you want to, you know, climb all the mountains over 14,000 feet in the world. I’ve got a friend doing that. Maybe you want to, you know, write a book. Maybe you want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane.

Rod Khleif (08:04): I did that about eight months ago. I’ll never freak and do it again, but it’s off the list. I got it done. So write down everything you want to do, but also write down everything you want to learn this lifetime. Maybe you want to learn a foreign language. You want to learn a skill. If you want to learn multifamily, come see me. I’m at my next bootcamp in July, but whatever it is, write down everything you want to learn. Then lastly, write down who you want to help. Maybe you, you know, family. I bought my parents a house on a canal in Florida, took them, you know, when they were alive and come on cruises, bought them a car. Who do you want to do something for? Write that down. And then, and if you’re analytical, please don’t stop and analyze it. Just keep writing until you can’t think of another thing.

Rod Khleif (08:49): You can always scratch it out later. Once you can’t think of another thing, then it’s not real. What you’ve written down is not real until it’s measurable. So write down how long it’s going to take you to achieve it. How many years? Put a one, a three, a five, even a 10 or a 20. Recognizing that as human beings, we will overestimate what we can do in a year and massively underestimate what we can do in 5, 10, 20 years. You know, I’ll give you an example of this. When I was 18, I always knew I wanted to live on the beach. You know, and there’s no beach in Denver. And so I, you know, I would visualize the Palm trees and the surf and the sand. And of course the bikinis. I’m a guy. And what’s crazy is 20 years later, I built this magnificent mansion on the beach, 8,000 square feet, you know, I’m sorry, 10,000 square feet, $8 million property just magnificent home, which was unthinkable when I was 18. So the point is take the lid off your brain. And just, if you write it down, you’re going to get it. That’s how you want to play this. Then once you’ve got a time limit on each goals, a couple more steps. I want you to pick your number one goal. That goal, when you get like, Oh my God! This is amazing! That goal. Put that on another piece of paper. Then pick your top three, one year goals, put those on a separate sheet of paper and leave some room in between them.

Rod Khleif (10:06): Now the goals are important. You need them. But what we’re going to do next is even more important. You need to write down why those goals are an absolute freaking must to achieve. So you want, and you want to use emotionally charged words in what you want to use emotion to drive this. Words like amazing, incredible, wonderful, beautiful. Use emotionally charged words so that, you know, maybe it’s. So you’re going to put so we can have freedom. My family can have freedom. We can go do whatever we want. Whenever we want, bring whoever we want, you know, whatever it is. Maybe you put so I can show my kids what success looks like, or I can show my spouse what success looks like, you know, and you know, whatever it is for you write it down. Then once you can’t, you know. You’re going to write the positive reasons why it’s an absolute must to achieve the goal.

Rod Khleif (10:52): But I also want you to put some negative reasons or negative things down. If you don’t achieve the goal. And here’s why. As human beings, we will do more to avoid pain and gain pleasure. She want to use this because this is the fuel to get your butt, to stay up late, to get up early, to, you know, to push this side hustle. Like most of us doing this as a side hustle, when we start, you know, to grind now and play later. We’ll live a few years, like most people won’t. So we can live the rest of our lives. Like most people can’t. And so put some pain in there! If you don’t achieve the goal. So I don’t feel like a failure. So I don’t live a life of regret. So I don’t fail my kids. So I don’t fail my life for my husband. Make it freaking painful!

Rod Khleif (11:31): You know, there was a nurse in Australia, Chris, a hospice nurse, her name was Bronnie Ware. And she asked people that were dying a question. And she wrote a book about it. But the question was, do you have any regrets? And the books called the five regrets of dying. You wonder what? The number one regret was. It was not living the life I could have lived. Living someone else’s life, not living up to my own expectations for what I was capable of. Guys, screw that! As well. I got to tell you, and that’s why we’re doing this goal setting workshop. So you’ve written the positive reasons. Why negative reasons, why it’s an absolute must. Last thing is you got to get pictures of your goals because you manifest this stuff in your life. I’ll give you some public examples of it. Jim Carrey. When he was flat broke, if you Google Jim Carrey check, you’ll see this wrote himself a check for 10 million bucks.

Rod Khleif (12:21): And he used to go by the Hollywood sign. He’d sit at it. He put in the little remittance. Those of you that are millennial, a check is something used to write to pay for things, right? But he’d look at it. And that’s how much money he made for Dumb and Dumber. One of his first movies. I’ll give you a more recent example. Demi Lovato. When she was an unknown. I don’t know, it was American idol or how she got known, but 10 years ago said she was going to sing in the super bowl. She sang in this last Superbowl, I’ll give you some personal examples of mine. You know, when I got my real estate broker’s license, I was going to get rich selling people houses. So I got a four door car, cause I got to show people houses, right? So I got this Ford four door, Granada. Bone ugly bench seat in the front ugliest freaking piece of crap you’ve ever saw in your life.

Rod Khleif (13:06): But I worked with a guy that had a Corvette. And he let me drive it. And I’m like, Oh my God! This is incredible! So I, this was before you could spell internet that hadn’t been thought of yet. And so I got a picture out of a magazine of a Corvette put on the visor of my Granada. Every time I sat in the car was right there in front of my face, within a year or two, I had a Corvette. I’ll give you some more examples, but please know this is not me bragging, none of this because this stuff doesn’t even interest me anymore. But I’m hoping to inspire you guys. So this is back when the TV show Magnum PI was around and it was a detective story. Actor’s name was Tom Selleck and he drove this awesome Ferrari 308. And I saw that.

Rod Khleif (13:43): I’m like, Oh my God, that thing’s amazing. So I got a picture of that actual car put on the visor of my Corvette. Then a year or two, I got a Maserati looked just like it. Last example, car example. I’m the guy that always wanted a Lamborghini. I had posters in my bedroom of the Lamborghinis and the bikini’s in the soap and the whole thing. Yeah. All through high school. What’s funny is my son collected models of exotic cars. And he had a model of the exact same color and style Lamborghini that I ended up getting. Like, let me show you something. I don’t know. Do you put this on YouTube as well? Okay. Hang on one sec. I’ve got my planner here. This is my planner. Okay. In the back, Yeah. I’m a dinosaur. I use a paper planner. I also use outlook though, but I’m not completely, you know, Neanderthal, but in the back of this thing are pictures that have been in here for 20 years.

Rod Khleif (14:31): Okay. 20 years they’re in plastic. And first pictures of my gratitude pictures. They’re pictures of my kids when they were very young. Okay guys, because everything starts from a place of gratitude. That’s the foundational emotion. That’s the most important emotion there is. So pictures of my kids. Then I’ve got pictures of the houses that I wanted. This top picture is just like that house on the beach. Look, the travertine floors, the 10 foot high glass, just like that. This bottom picture. It looks just like the compound I live in. Now. I live in a compound at six buildings. I lost the house in all the craziness, but I’ve got six buildings, giant, main house, a beautiful guest house on the water. I’ve got an exercise facility, a media center with a theater room and a video studio. And it’s just magnificent because God’s got a sense of humor.

Rod Khleif (15:14): I can see my old house across the Bay. Every time I go in my backyard, it’s right there. But this is what it looks like. There’s a wall like that behind me. It usually, I’m in an asset right now. 403 unit asset we have in Louisiana. So I’m here. So I don’t have my backdrop, which is my backyard. And that wall, these walls is what I have behind me. It’s just crazy! From 20 years ago. And then I’ve got, you know, stupid shit like watches. I’ve got a few hundred thousand dollars of the watches. Again, Lamborghini before I ever got it. You know, the Rolls-Royce, the Bentley, all this stuff that I got because I had pictures. So, you know, I know I lost some of you analytical ones, but I’m here to tell you a big mistake because this freaking works! Okay. So get pictures, put them around you. Put them on your screensaver, put them on the wall. And at some point you’re going to have this stuff gets into your subconscious. Anyway, I’m off my soul box. Chris, thank you for letting me rant.

Chris Miles (16:04): Hey, no, that’s cool! And even if they’re analytical, man, this is actually the meat and potatoes right here.

Rod Khleif (16:09): This is it! If you want it. I mean, this is how I recovered from losing 50 million bucks. Some people don’t recover from that. I mean, you know, it was refocusing on what I wanted. It was reassociating with what I wanted. You know, so easy to focus on the pain and the hurt. People connect through pain. They don’t connect through positivity. They connect through pain. How you doing? Oh, my back’s killing me! Oh! Come here brother. But if you go, how you doing? Fantastic, man! Life is great! There’ll be like, take 10 steps back that guy’s crazy. Some people connect through pain and, but what you focus on gets bigger, you know? And a great example of this is Mother Teresa. They asked her if she was anti-war. She said, no, I’m pro peace.

Chris Miles (16:46): That’s right. That’s right. No, it’s fascinating you’re bringing this up because just last night, my wife and I were talking about some different cases of people that they’ve been doing personal development for decades, some even decades. Right? Doing it forever. But the crazy thing is that the biggest block they have is they have no clue what they want. And it’s like that Mark Twain quote, right? It’s like, I can get people whatever they want. I just can’t find anybody who knows what that is. And most people know what other people want.

Rod Khleif (17:18): How are you going to ever get it?

Chris Miles (17:19): Yeah.

Rod Khleif (17:21): Before I met my wife, I literally wrote a four page full typed up of high level of detail, exactly what I was looking for in this human being. And the minute I met her, I knew it was her. And the minute I met her, because I had clearly defined what it was. That’s the only way you’re going to get it guys with clarity. Clarity is power. Okay. Do you want as much detail as possible? And these things that you want, you want to go experience them? One of my bucket list items now is to get a yacht, either to rent one or to own one and go around the, we went to the Amalfi coast spectacular! And that the yachts there. And I want to take the, take a yacht around the boot of Italy and go to Croatia, Greece and Spain and everything else. So I went to the Miami boat show back in February when there was no Corona virus. And I BS my way onto these super yachts and sat in the captain’s chair and visualized it because it freaking works. Guys. I visualize myself owning this thing, laid on the bed, walked around. Like I own the place because I know it works. It gets your brain going and honed in. So…

Chris Miles (18:24): That’s a key point. You know, like if you’re trying to figure out a way to image it, cause for me, if it’s imaged in my mind, it will happen. Right? Like if they can go from the page to my brain and I can see myself there and one of the best ways is trying to experience it. So like, I remember a guy said, Hey, his goal was to buy a Mercedes McLaren. He’s like, I want a McLaren. I’m like, well, great. You don’t have to buy it today. Like go rent it for a week. There’s exotic cars that are for rent. Like go rent it. You know, if after a week you’re bored of it and then great. At least you don’t have to buy that thing. You know, at least to say, Hey, for a week, I enjoy this. It was awesome. You know, and I think that’s the right way to do it.

Rod Khleif (18:58): Sure. No, you, you need to experience it. And like I said, I drove that Corvette and that was it. I knew, I knew I had to have it once you experienced something. There’s no going back. Let me say one other thing about goals. So this is really important cause I know we’re low on time. I remember I talked about that house on the beach. You know, I built this house. It was magnificent. Okay. I mean three stories of giant waterfall out of the second floor balcony into the pool. Elevator wine cellar. I mean to give you an idea of the house and this a giant spiral staircase that went up through the middle and on the second floor, there was an aquarium that I had custom built that curved around the staircase that cost me almost 200 grand. So that gives you an idea of the house. So two months after I moved in, and I worked for this thing for 20 years, I just want to mention this because it ties into goals. I worked for this thing for 20 years. Two months after I moved in, I’m floating in the pool at night.

Rod Khleif (19:44): My family is inside asleep and the pool is changing colors. It’s got fiber optic lighting and I got depressed. I don’t mean I just got a little bummed. I mean, I got really bummed. And I’m like, what the hell! I had just achieved success like times a thousand and I’m bummed. And so I went and bought some books and one of them was Tony Robbins book. He’s got several, it was online. It was a Unleash The Power Within. It was the book, the particular book. But, so I went and saw him live and I found out that he fed families for the holidays. I’m like, wow, what a concept? Do something for someone else. Cause I had been totally focused on me. Okay. And you know, I built this house. This Testament to my ego is what I call it because it was just proved to the world that I was good enough.

Rod Khleif (20:22): That’s the truth of it. It’s embarrassing to admit that, but that’s the truth. And it was just to prove myself. And so I’ve been, it was all Rod, Rod, Rod, me, me, me focus on Rod and I. And so I came back from that event and decided to feed five families for the holidays. It was Thanksgiving back then. Now we do it for Christmas, but that gave my life fulfillment. You know, there’s a big difference between achievement and fulfillment. In fact, Tony calls it, the science of achievement versus the art of fulfillment. So there’s one thing to be successful, but it’s much more important to be fulfilled. And so now i fed 75,000 children for the holidays over the last 20 years, we’ve done tens of thousands of backpacks, full of school supplies for local kids. We’ve done tens of thousands of Teddy bears to give to police departments for their officers to keep in cars when they encounter a child.

Rod Khleif (21:08): And again, I’m not trying to brag or tell you, you have to do anything this grandiose, but I know if you’re listening to Chris, you want success. And you may be thinking when I’m successful, I’ll give back. Big mistake! Give now! Because your success is going to come faster and you’ll be happier and more fulfilled on the path. You know, my podcast just hit 8 million downloads and I’ve interviewed huge people in the space, but I can at millionaires billionaires. And I can tell when someone’s like I was back then totally focused on themselves. And I feel sorry for them because I recognize that it was me. And so guys, if you’re listening and you’re thinking, you know, you want to achieve to be happy. I’m going to tell you to give back in some fashion. It doesn’t have to be huge. Just pick a, pick a cause children, the elderly, pets, the environment, whatever it is. And give back now, because if you’re going to get there much faster, if you’re happily achieving versus achieving to be happy.

Chris Miles (22:04): Amen to that! That’s exactly the point I would make too, it’s all about what you can create. You know, we’re only here for so long in this planet, what kind of legacy we’re going to leave behind and that’s gotta be greater fulfillment of our lives.

Rod Khleif (22:16): Anything in this universe that does not contribute. Believe it or not is actually eliminated. Contribution’s a basic human need. We have to contribute in some fashion and we are not whole, if we don’t. So it’s very, very important that we do.

Chris Miles (22:30): I love it! So Rod, if all of our people here, our listeners want to follow you, like, and learn anything from you. How would they do that?

Rod Khleif (22:37): I’m having a two day virtual bootcamp, July 25th and 26th. I’m not selling anything. It’s 16 hours of, if you’re interested in multifamily real estate, it’s kind of a dud it’s $97. Just come. Just trust me. You’ll be glad you did. It’s a no brainer. And it’s me teaching multifamily real estate, you know, and mindset as well. But it’s drinking through a fire hose. I will tell you that if you’re not interested in multifamily, you just, you want the boost. The motivational boost, my podcast, I do a clip every week called Own Your Power. It’s five minutes and it’ll juice you. Okay? I play music and it’s motivational. It’s powerful stuff. I’m really proud of those. I’ve done hundreds of them. And so, you know, just even if you’re not interested in multifamily, come see me there. But the bootcamp is if you text Rod Live to 41411, it will get you the website. The website’s, MultifamilyVirtualBootCamp.com I have a lot of fun with it. Again, I had to shift, I had to pivot. I mean, we’re innovating right now. We’re in COVID. So we had to change things and you know, the website, you’ll see me in the backyard, filming the video about why it’s important to come spend two days with me. Cause we pivoted like in three days I got that website up. But we got rave reviews. We had 900 people in the last one and we never dropped below about 720 people watching the entire two days. So…

Chris Miles (23:54): That’s excellent!

New Speaker (23:55): And then my website as well, my podcast, by the way, if you put Real Estate in your iPhone, I usually come up number one or two with Bigger Pockets, but it’s Lifetime CashFlow, that’s the name of the podcast. Lifetime Cashflow through real estate investing. And then my website, I’ve got tons of free materials, books and articles and videos, just hundreds. And it’s RodKhleif.com My last name. My full name, Rod Khleif. And my last name is spelled K H L E I F. So…

Chris Miles (24:21): Awesome! Well that’s, should definitely put that in the show notes so everybody can tune in whichever resonates with you, whichever you say, Hey, this is where I need to be right now. And we’ll make sure we get that there. So everybody, if you’re listening to this, Hey, the next event’s 25th and 26th. So make sure you’re there. That’s not far from there. So…

Rod Khleif (24:38): No, no, no. You’ll be glad you came. I promise! Promise you. We had hundreds of raving testimonials after this last one. So we have a lot of fun. We have a lot of fun with it. Life’s about having fun, right?

Chris Miles (24:49): Absolutely. That’s it. It’s all about that quality man. All right, well, appreciate your time, Rod. It’s so much great value in such a power pack short amount of time. I appreciate it so much!

Rod Khleif (24:59): Thank you brother!

Chris Miles (25:00): And the rest of you guys. Hey, it’s one thing to be a hearer of the word. It’s another to be a doer of the word. I challenge you to be a doer to actually go and take this and apply it. That’s the difference between successful and those that aren’t. Is those that actually go and do what we talk about here. So guys, I hope you make it a wonderful and prosperous week. And we’ll see you later!

[whumpiary]

I'm not sure were the bergan estate timeline was? like what happened there? I don't understand how cass came to be there or what he was doing and his propose there? I'm just a dumbass child so can u explain a bit??

Oh no no! You are not a dumbass child! I’m just a horrible little goblin man who drip feeds her readers story points and hoards the rest instead of just writing them out like a normal writer! It makes sense that you’re confused.

My writing is just… A Mess. The timeline post is just to give y'all SOME kind of hope of understanding everything that’s all mixed in my brain because there is SO much and I have No idea how to write it.

All the stuff that happens during the Bergen Estate timeline is set before the Facility, and before Cass meets Josiah (or Lou or Tucker, etc etc). It’s Cassius backstory that I got way too invested in.

It’s also like… Kind of dependent on world building stuff that is still kind of gelatinous in my brain but I’ve started sharing more of it the more solid I get on it all. I struggle to write actual world-building and #lore into my drabbles and tbh since deciding a lot of the Bergen Estate details I’ve been in a Huge publishing rut

BUT IM ALWAYS A SLUT FOR AN INFO DUMP SO STRAP THE FUck IN

Bergen Estate is owned by Christopher Bergen, a billionaire mogul who’s best known for his extensive philanthropy and charity work, and Cassius’ first major whumper. It’s essentially just a big ass fucking mansion on a huge slap of land where Christopher lives. The estate is extensively staffed, and also houses a number of at-risk young people who are a part of Christopher’s charity outreach and rehabilitation program. 

The outreach of the program is massive. Christopher only houses 38 charges at Bergen Estate, but there are thousands of people throughout the country in one of his group homes and boarding schools.

The young people who go through the program are colloquially known as Bergen Boys, although that’s a term the foundation itself tries to formally keep distance from (privately,,,,,, Christopher quite likes the term). The program has the reputation of boy scouts meets finishing school, and, formally, it’s not unlike that. It’s a really thorough rehabilitation program that really genuinely facilitates juvenile delinquents, hard to home foster kids, and other at risk youths and then offers them counselling, education, and support to make them employable, functional, constructive members of society. 

The program also takes incarcerated youth under wing by taking full legal responsibility for their actions through an indenture arrangement. All of the graduates leave the program by the age of 25 and are known for being exceedingly polite, well educated, and multi skilled. Most leave multilingual and with a bachelor’s degree in their ~delegated~ chosen field. 

The thing is. 

That’s all the public really knows.

Christopher Bergen is charismatic and charming and very Open™ about the program and his estate. He regularly talks about it in interviews, and there are some relatively well known ex-Bergen Boys who also talk about the program favourably. But nobody actually knows what goes on there. They just know Bad Young People go in and Well Adjusted Adults come out. Nobody really thinks about it beyond that. Nobody really thinks about the ones that go missing, or that quietly and seamlessly end up back in the judicial system, or that just… seem to stay under 25 for a really really long time. 

Those staying at Bergen Estate are believed by the public to be individuals of particularly high risk or dangerous behaviours, who need additional support for success back in the real world. Kids on trial for murder, those exhibiting of particularly dangerous repeated behaviours, that sort of thing. The truth of it is these are just the people that Christopher has taken a particular specific liking to or interest in. 

In this ‘verse, a number of people ( the “evolutionarily advanced”) have telepathy-adjacent powers that they can use to varying levels of success. Often, the kids that end up at Bergen Estate just so happen to have these abilities, or at least seem to develop them after a few months. It’s not a hard-and-fast rule that those at the estate will have powers, it just seems to be a high correlation. 

Christopher is a combo of pretty common whumper tropes. He’s a collector. He likes pretty things. He likes unusual things. And he likes to be loved. The Bergen Foundation and the good reputation it gives means he can have those things on a large scale. But Bergen Estate means he can have them intimately. Christopher gets what he wants. But he’s a good person and he’ll go about getting them in the right way. Eye for an eye for an eye for an eye if he has to.

As for Cass.

Cass wasn’t particularly special, compared to any of the other charges at Christopher’s estate. He did something wrong, then he did something right, then he caught the attention of Christopher.

Surprising approximately no one, Cass had a rough upbringing. He was in and out of juvie from quite a young age, and soon enough had captured the attention of Bergen Foundation staff. He was bright enough, charming when he wanted to be, and the perfect candidate for a success story down the track.

Unfortunately for them, they pretty quickly realised he wouldn’t be a success story. Unfortunately for Cass, Christopher had already taken an interest in the boy in his program who could seemingly get whatever he wanted from whoever he wanted but still hadn’t run away.

At 16 he received a personal visit from Christopher, who gave him an offer he couldn’t refuse and legal proceedings immediately went underway to transfer Cassius’ sentence to the Estate. The rest, as they say, is trauma.

As for his purpose there…occasionally Christopher used Cass the way Tucker does, to sway business deals and woo clients and friends in whatever way Christopher wanted, but frankly Christopher doesn’t need a whole lot of help with business. So mostly, he was just there to give Christopher whatever he wanted. Because Christopher decided he liked him. Simple as that.

[master-sass-blast]

Of First Dates and Not So First Kisses.

5 AM editing...

I am so good at adulting.

The latest piece from my hyperfixation hole: You and Piotr Rasputin go on your first date together.

(Set after the fic “Myska” and before (well, partially before) “Dig the Needle In,” both of which you can find on my Tumblr and on Archive of Our Own.)

Warnings: None. Except maybe strong language. Other than that, it’s just pure fluff.

Rating: T. Because Wade.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader and vaguely implied Wade Wilson x Nathan Summers.

“No! I refuse to accept this!”

You roll your eyes as Wade flails around dramatically. “Wade, unless your real mutation is bending reality and the subjects therein to your will, you have to accept it.”

“This is art! Art!”

“No, this--” You point at the TV screen, which is currently playing a rerun of Desperate Housewives “--is garbage. Hot, shitty, nasty garbage.”

“Okay, apparently my efforts to reverse your parents’ brainwashing haven’t been as effective as I thought, because there’s no way any sane person in total control of their faculties would say something like that!”

You roll your eyes. Again. “No, Wade, I’m just not stupid enough to believe that daytime drama TV is entertaining.” Before your best friend can start in on another tirade, you add, “And, I mean, come on. If there’s anyone you should be showing this, it’s Cable. They don’t even have TV in the future, Wade. I at least got to experience it for a couple years before my dad got rid of our television set. Point stands, Cable’s situation is far more dire than mine.”

Wade perks up, and it’s obvious from the look on his face that he’s actually buying in to your distraction.

“Besides,” You continue, laying on the persuasion extra thick. “What an excellent opportunity! The two of you, on the couch, watching TV together; it’s practically a quasi-date!”

Wade falters. “Yeah, because everyone’s just lining up to date this face,” he grumbles bitterly.

“Fine.” You switch tactics like the master con artist you are. “Don’t think of it as a date. Just think of it as an opportunity to fill his brain with tons of bullshit about this century while tormenting him with shitty reality drama.”

That does it --because if there’s one thing that motivates Wade more than his Texas-sized crush on Nathan Summers, it’s an opportunity to be an unrepentant asshole. He bounds off to the kitchen --where Nathan is conveniently in the middle of making a sandwich--and loops his arms around the older man’s neck while gushing about ‘quality time’ and ‘historical education.’

You take the opportunity to make your escape --blowing a kiss at Cable when he glares at you, though it’s worth noting that he’s letting Wade lead him to the rec room without too much complaining--and head off in search of your boyfriend, Piotr.

He isn’t in his room, nor is he in the training room. It’s Saturday, so he’s not teaching, and he isn’t grading or lesson planning in one of his classrooms.

A smile lights up your face when you realize where he must be, and you scamper off towards one of the unfinished expansion wings on the mansion.

One of the ongoing goals at Xavier’s is that of expansion --taking in more mutants, reaching more people with the truth about mutants, extending their reach to an international level so they could help mutants around the world... the list goes on and on, but the immediate effects of that mission often manifest in upgrading the mansion or other X-Men facilities.

You walk through the unfinished wing, taking time to relish the unfiltered sunlight and the natural, homey feeling of the space.

The wing, once done, is supposed to serve as extra classrooms for the ever growing group of mutant students and kids that lived at the mansion. However, at your loving badgering, Piotr had asked for an art studio.

It was multi-purposed, he insisted. He could use it for himself, yes, but he also could use it for his students. At any rate, the studio was approved.

Now, he uses it mostly as his personal, private get away whenever the mansion gets too chaotic --one that, according to him, you’re welcome in any time as long as you don’t bring Wade.

You walk up to one of the few doors on its hinges --lovingly painted and decorated with the hand prints of Piotr’s art students--and poke your head into the room.

He’s sitting in an overstuffed arm chair positioned by one of the windows, sketchbook in his lap and face tense with concentration. He looks up when you close the door behind you, and absolutely beams at the sight of you. “Privet, myshka.”

You grin back, unable to resist his infectious happiness. “Hey, big guy.” Your heart hammers in your chest as you walk over to his chair and press a kiss against his lips. It’s only been a few weeks since the two of you decided to get together, and you’re still swept away with giddy energy every time you get to do something remotely couple-y with him.

He smiles up at you, cheeks flushed and face glowing with bashful exhilaration, when you break the kiss. “Is there any particular reason why you’re here?”

“Actually, yeah. I had to escape Wade; he was trying to make me watch garbage TV again.” You sit down on the armrest of the chair and grin at him. “I managed to sic him onto Cable, though. With any luck, he won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Piotr lets out a breathy laugh. “That was devious of you, myshka. I’m not sure Cable deserved that.”

“Hey, he’s just as capable of punching Wade in the face and walking away as anyone else is. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he actually likes spending time with him.”

Your boyfriend simply shakes his head --he’s still smiling though, which means he finds your antics amusing rather than disapproval-worthy--and curls one of his massive hands around one of your considerably smaller ones. “Well, at any rate, I am glad you are here. I wanted to talk to you about something --it actually connects to ‘escapes,’ ironically enough.”

You cock your head to the side, beyond intrigued about whatever’s going to come out of his mouth next. “What’s up, big guy?”

He gazes down at your intertwined hands for a moment, gently running the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “I would... I would like to take you on date. Sometime this week.”

“...Really? You want to take me on a date?”

“Da. I want to spend time with you... without others interrupting.”

Well, you’ll be fucked if you’re going to argue with that. You say as much --grinning impishly when Piotr gives you the ‘language’ look--and lean in and kiss him on the cheek. “So, where are you gonna take me, handsome?”

“That is what I wanted to ask you about. I am... not sure where we should go --and you should have a say, too, since this is your first ever date.”

You swing your legs back and forth, heels knocking against the side of the chair as you consider your options. “I trust your instincts, Pete. I don’t think you could pick something that I wouldn’t like, considering that the main thing I want to do is spend time with you.” You can tell that the open-ended-ness of your answer makes him nervous, so you add in a few stipulations for his sake. “I guess... nothing to fancy or upscale. We could do that down the road, if you want, but I kind of just want to hang out and have a good time with you. And I’d rather not do anything at night, I guess. I’d just feel better if we were back here around dinner time.”

He nods --you know he’s taking all this seriously, it is him after all--and squeezes your hand. “Of course, dorogaya moya. Whatever makes you comfortable. Perhaps... lunch date on Wednesday? I can show you some of parks and shops nearby?”

You grin, warm and unbelievably happy. “That sounds perfect.”

The rest of the remaining time until Wednesday is spent trying to nail down the perfect date outfit. You have a several hour consultation with Neena, Yukio, and Ellie --and Wade, because he refuses to be left out of anything--a couple days before the big event to decide what constitutes a good ‘daytime, causal but not too casual lunch date that also includes walking around together.’

Wade got as far as recommending his ‘hooker heels’ as your shoes of choice --Ellie smacked him across the back of the head for that--before Neena kicked him out and took over like the wonderful big sister figure she was.

In the end, the four of you had settled on a soft black t-shirt with a faded Guns’n’Roses logo on the front, a camouflage skirt that fell mid-thigh, a denim vest to go over the shirt, and a pair of low-rise black Converse (considerately loaned to you by Ellie).

You stand in front of your bathroom mirror, carefully tying a red bandanna around your head to act as a headband. Once you’re satisfied with its position, you check over your make up (natural, at Ellie’s suggestion).

You're unexpectedly nervous. You know Piotr’s not going to judge you --or dismiss you--for how you choose to dress, but you really want him to find you pretty. You’re fiddling with your hair when the sound of someone clearing their throat at you catches your attention.

Ellie’s standing in your bedroom, watching you with her usual stoic expression. “He’s ready for you.”

You nod, and let out a nervous huff. “Okay. Show time.”

���Relax. You look fine.” The corner of her mouth turns up in the barest hint of a smile. “Have fun.”

You flash her a thankful smile before you dart out of your room, snatching up your purse as you go. You hurry down the stairs and practically skip out the front door, any nervousness you might have felt far outweighed by the excitement running through your veins.

Piotr’s out on the front drive, leaning against a sleek black car that oozes power and ‘I’m more expensive than your college payments.’ He’s dressed in jeans, nice sneakers, and a light-blue short sleeved button down shirt that he’s tucked into his pants. He smiles, soft and warm, when you dash towards him. “You look nice, myshka.”

“Thanks,” You say, a little breathless from your mad run out of the mansion. “Shall we go?”

He nods, bends to kiss your forehead, and opens your door like the consummate gentleman that he is. Once you’re safely tucked inside, he closes the door and walks over to the driver’s side. “I thought,” he says as he buckles himself in, “we could start by walking through one of the parks.”

You grin and can’t help but shiver a little as the car rumbles to life. “Sounds awesome.”

He drives to a quaint town a little over half an hour away from the mansion. Piotr parks by a lush, quiet park at the edge of the town and immediately gets out of the car to get your door for you.

You smile as you step out and breath in the fresh summer air. The park is filled with different bushes, trees, and outcroppings of flowers. You can hear a stream gurgling nearby, and birds chirp overhead. “This is perfect, Piotr. It’s so beautiful here.”

“This is one of my favorite places to come and draw when mansion is too chaotic. Close enough to be safe, but far enough to, ah, avoid Wade.”

“He’s not all bad.”

“Nyet. But he is... trying.”

You giggle up at him and latch on to his hand. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

The two of you amble through the park, not in any particular hurry to get anywhere. You’re happy to take your time, thoroughly relishing the way Piotr’s fingers sit so naturally between yours, how warm his hand is, the way his voice rumbles as the two of you talk, the soft, bashful smiles he keeps favoring you with whenever you look up at him...

It’s heaven, pure and simple.

“I can see why you like it here,” You say after a stretch of comfortable silence. “It’s peaceful. And gorgeous. What do you draw when you come here?”

“Landscapes, mostly, though I have started to sketch passersby as well.” He ducks his head and lets out a self-depreciating chuckle. “I am... not that talented with faces.”

“I’ve seen your sketch book, which leads me to believe that you’re probably selling yourself short.”

He shrugs and smiles at you. “Who can say? Art is subjective, after all.”

Eventually, you reach the end of the park and step into a stylish downtown area that boasts several locally owned shops and cafes. You meander down the streets with Piotr, stopping every so often to gaze through one of the windows or step inside and check out one of the stores. Your stomach starts gurgling after a while, to which Piotr chuckles and suggests that the two of you find some lunch.

You let him lead you down the street and into a sandwich shop, a mom and pop sort of a place. A college aged waitress with her hair pulled back into a ponytail greets the two of you with a sunny smile --though it’s largely directed at Piotr.

Not that you blame her, necessarily. Be honest. Who wouldn’t?

“I haven’t seen you here in a while,” she says as she picks up a couple menus. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten all about us.”

“Work was... hectic for a bit,” Piotr replies, tacitly side-stepping the fact that he’s a superhero and that his ‘work’ was babysitting a homicidal maniac.

“Story of my life. Who’s your friend? I don’t think I’ve seen her here before.”

“This is my girlfriend,” Piotr introduces you with a smile that absolutely glows. “I wanted to bring her here for our first date.”

The waitress’s sunny smile dims slightly, but she’s still polite. “Well, congratulations! I’ll make sure I sit you two somewhere a little more private so that you aren’t bothered by the noise or other patrons.”

You end up sitting at a table for two that’s by the front of the shop, out of the way of the incoming traffic. It’s well-lit, positioned by one of the store front windows, and provides an excellent view of the charming street outside. Your waitress takes your drink orders and leaves you with the menus, promising to return in a couple moments.

You peruse the menu at a leisurely pace, lulled into a temporary glowing calm by your time spent basking in his unfiltered affection. Fortunately, you know what you’re doing --the first time Wade took you off the mansion grounds you hadn’t had the foggiest idea of how to even order a meal for yourself. He’d taken it upon himself to catch you up on all the skills necessary to survive in the real world; as far as you’re concerned, it’s worked.

After a few minutes of studying, however, you come to the determination that you really don’t know what to order. None of the staples Wade’s introduced you to are on the menu, and --while everything looks good--you don’t know what to pick. You reach across the table and put your hand on Piotr’s. “Whats good here?”

“Everything. I usually order the grilled chicken and vegetable sandwich.”

You can’t help but grin. “Of course. Always the nutritionist.”

“It’s important to be healthy.”

“It is, it is. I’m not sure I’m feeling that virtuous, though.” You feel a flash of satisfaction at the way the tips of his ears turn red and return your focus to the menu in your hands. “The pulled-pork sandwich looks pretty good. I think I’ll go with that.”

Your waitress reappears a few moments later to take your orders --a grilled chicken and veggie sandwich with a fresh fruit side for him and a pulled pork sandwich and fries for you. She takes the menus and disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Piotr takes your hands in his, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles. “You look adorable today, myshka.”

You duck your head, smiling bashfully. “Thanks. You’re looking good as well --though that’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

His cheeks flush to a lovely rosy color. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yeah. I really am. This has been really great; it’s nice that we don’t have to worry about Wade ambushing us.”

“Da.” He hesitates --his cheeks flush darker, which looks surprisingly good on him--then gives you a shy, hopeful look. “I want... to do more of this. A lot more.”

A rush of exhilaration runs through you, and you can’t help your excited smile. “Are you saying you want this --us--to be long term?”

“Da. I do.”

“I like the sound of that. I really, really like the sound of that.”

His returning smile is soft and pleased beyond all compare.

Lunch passes quickly --too quickly for your taste. It’s largely dominated by conversation, with occasional comfortable pauses. The two of you talk about your hopes and dreams, your opinions about the world around you, what you want for your futures...

It’s nice. You can’t remember the last time you were able to just spend time with him like this and be.

Whenever the conversation lulls for too long, you ask him to tell you about Russia. He obliges, happily, telling you about the farm he grew up on, his parents, and his sister.

Eventually, he’s covering the bill --upon his insistence, because he can’t not be a gentleman--and you realize that lunch is done and that your date time is quickly coming to a close. As you leave the restaurant, you beg him to show around the town for just a little longer --and he obliges you with literally no resistance whatsoever.

It’s sweet, and you love him for it, but you also have the distinct sense that he’s going to end up creating a bit of a monster out of you.

Towards the end of your stroll around the town, your attention’s snatched away by the distinct, sweet smell of sugar and chocolate. You whip your head around, searching for the source of the heavenly scent, and spy a small confections shop on the opposite corner. “There’s a candy store!” You swoon dramatically, leaning against Piotr as you press your hand against your forehead. “Suddenly, I feel faint! I think it can only be remedied by mass quantities of sugar and chocolate!”

He chuckles as he nudges you upright. “Would you like to go get something?”

“Yes... or, as you would say, da.”

He escorts you across the seat, looking both ways before the two of you cross --because safety, and, to be fair, you probably wouldn’t have if he wasn’t here. He gets the door for you --again, gentleman--and ushers you inside as a bell dings above your heads.

The inside of the shop is light, airy, and decorated in pastels. The far wall is lined with shelves of containers filled with novelty candies --gummy worms, jelly beans, taffies, and the like. Tables loaded with different pastries and treats dot the shop floor. The counter boasts an extensive display case holding dozens of different chocolate treats --and an ice cream cooler, which looks seriously tempting.

A middle aged woman dressed in a mint green polo and a black apron smiles at the two of you. “Hi! What brings you in?”

“My girlfriend wanted to check the shop out,” Piotr says with a smile.

“It was a matter of life and death, Piotr,” You insist cheekily. “I could’ve fainted! Or died!”

The woman chuckles. “Well, we’ve got a great selection of chocolates, candies, and pastries, along with our ice cream that we make in store. My name’s Melody; let me know if I can help you with anything.”

Piotr thanks Melody, but you’re already eyeing your options. You squeeze his hand to get his attention. “Can I get one of everything?”

“Uh, no,” he says with a laugh. “I didn’t bring that much cash with me.”

“I was kidding... mostly.”

The two of you amble around the shop --you because you’re taking your time to seriously evaluate your choices, Piotr because he’s content to follow you and finds your depth of concentration amusing.

Eventually, you decide that you want chocolate and you skip over to the display case.

It doesn’t do much to simplify your decision making process. There have to be at least fifty different types of chocolates in the case.

You smile at Melody. “So, what’s good?”

“Well, the obvious answer is ‘everything,’ but it really depends on your tastes. What do you normally like? Are you a purist, do you like a little crunch, are you a fan of chocolate a fruit combos...”

Your cheery smile dims slightly. Despite his best efforts, this was one area of food Wade hadn’t thoroughly indoctrinated you in. You honestly have no idea what you ought to like, but this seems like something that any normal person would have opinions on. “Uh... I don’t know, actually.” At Melody’s politely confused look, you ad-lib a little lie. “My parents were, uh, health nuts. They didn’t let me have chocolate growing up.”

“Gotcha,” Melody says. “Well, in that case, I’d recommend a covered fruit option; they’re not as rich as some of our other options, so you’re less likely to feel sick after eating ‘em.”

Piotr’s hand comes to rest on the small of your back as she goes through the options --a small but reassuring pressure; he knows how much talking about your parents bothers you. He kisses the top of your head and wraps his arm around your shoulders when you lean against him.

“So, do any of those strike your fancy?”

“Uh...” You peer at the trays of chocolate covered fruits. “I’d like to try... the chocolate covered strawberries.”

“Excellent. It’s one for $3.75 or four for $5.00.”

You smile up at Piotr. “Can I get four?”

“Da,” he murmurs as he kisses your temple. After a little good-natured pestering from you, he also asks for some fudge for himself.

You give him a mock --well, partially mock--incredulous look as Melody packages your orders. “Fudge? I would’ve thought you would’ve gone for something healthy, like the fruit.” You puff out your chest and drop your voice as deep as it will go in a fairly horrible impression of him. “Nutrition is important. Pizza is not breakfast food. Cheetos are not food in general.”

“It is guilty pleasure,” Piotr laughs as he pays for your treats. “And I don’t care what you say, moya lyubov’. Cheetos cannot be food; they don’t even taste like cheese!”

“That’s not the point! The point is that they are crunchy and delicious!”

Piotr simply shakes his head, still smiling, and takes your hand as you leave the shop.

The two of you settle on a bench in the park you started your date in to eat your treats. Piotr hands you your box of chocolate covered strawberries --tied shut with a cute gold ribbon--and a napkin before setting his small box of fudge --and a napkin--in his lap.

You open your box and carefully pick up one of the berries. You study it for a moment, shrug, and bite in.

The chocolate casing shatters.

You let out a squeak and lift your hand up to catch the pieces of runaway chocolate. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“Da.”

It takes a little fumbling, but you manage to stick most of the shards back to the strawberry. You carefully finish your first berry, trying to hold it ‘just so’ so that you don’t drop more chocolate on your skirt.

It’s delicious. Insanely so.

You let out a delighted moan as you start in to your next strawberry. “Where has this been my whole life?”

Piotr smiles as he watches you. “I take it you like them?”

“Oh, hell yeah. This is amazing. I’m going to punch Wade for not introducing these to me.” You take a moment to wipe your fingers on your napkin, then eye his box of fudge. “Mind if I try a bite of yours?”

“Sure.”

You take the chunk of fudge he offers you and --without much thought or consideration--pop the entire piece into your mouth.

A mistake --relatively speaking.

“Oh god,” you mumble around the fudge. “It’s so sweet.”

“That’s why I don’t get it too often.”

“Holy shit. I can actually feel the cavities forming.” You hold out one of your strawberries to him. “Do you want one?”

“No, but thank you, dorogaya moya.”

“Okay. Your loss.”

The two of you finish your treats in relative silence. Well, you finish your strawberries, devouring them with the voracity of a starved velociraptor. Piotr eats maybe a quarter of his fudge, then neatly closes the box and tucks it back in the bag ‘for later,’ like a responsible person would.

He’s such a dad type, and you absolutely adore him for it.

“Do have anything on my face?” You ask as you pat around your mouth with the napkin.

“I think you’re good.” He stand and holds his hand out to you. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah --just hang on a minute.” You hop to your feet, pop up onto your tiptoes, and tug him down by his shirt to give him a kiss.

It’s undeniably perfect. His hands settle at your waist, pulling you in slightly. His lips are soft and warm --and taste a little like fudge, which is excellent. Stack that with the overall glow you’re feeling from the date, and it’s the best damn kiss you’ve ever had.

 “I love you,” you murmur when the two of you part. “I really don’t want this to end.”

“I love you too, myshka. But we should probably go.”

“I know,” You groan. “I’ve just really enjoyed today.”

He practically beams down at you. “I’m glad. I had good time as well.”

You bump your head against his chest. “I want to come here again. I really like it out here.”

“We can do that. Whenever you want.”

“Awesome.” You wrap your arms around his massive waist in a hug and let out a happy sigh when he reciprocates. “But, yeah, we should head back. If we stay out any longer, Wade’s gonna take it a sign to set something on fire.”

Piotr stiffens in your arms at and mutters something under his breath in Russian. “Da. Not that I don’t love this --don’t love being here with you--but... da. We should make sure Wade doesn’t burn down house.”

You giggle and take his hand as he heads back to the car.

The drive back to the mansion is too short for your tastes --not from him speeding, because Piotr would never, but just from being engrossed in conversation with him and just being captivated by him in general.

Your heart aches slightly as the mansion comes into sight, officially marking the end of your date.

“I can drop you off at door,” Piotr offers as he pulls up the drive.

“And miss out on the precious minutes of walk time from the garage to the mansion? I think not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yupp,” You answer, popping the ‘p.’ “To the garage, big guy!”

It only takes a couple of minutes to reach the garage, and less than that for Piotr to park and turn off the car, to your dismay. Before you’ve managed to collect your purse, he’s opening your door and helping you out of the car.

“Thanks for taking me out today. I had a great time.”

“My pleasure, dorogoy.” And then he stoops down and presses his lips against yours.

This kiss is different from the others you’ve shared today. For one, it’s more passionate --he’s holding you closer, kissing your harder. It also lasts much longer, like he doesn’t want to part from you until he absolutely has to.

Eventually, as all things must, the kiss does end.

You’re panting slightly when he pulls back. “Now, that’s what I’d call a proper ‘end of date’ kiss.”

Piotr ducks his head and smiles, cheeks flushed a gorgeous rosy color. “We should go inside.”

You walk with him to the house, still indescribably giddy from your date and the kiss in the garage. You step through the back door --Piotr gets the door for you again--and into the kitchen--

Wade is perched precariously on the counter, lighter in one hand and bottle of vodka with a rag sticking out the top in the other.

“Wade! No!”

You watch, endlessly amused, as your boyfriend surges forward and disarms your best friend.

It’s amazing that this is your life now --a mix of wonderful and crazy that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

You laugh as Wade pouts at Piotr and decide to join the chaos.

[howyoutalktostrangers]

So,

I’ve decided to publish another story from my manuscript.

This one’s called “Post-funeral”, and the main character is named Joel Bishop. He’s a friend of my main characters Paisley Troutman and Neil Solomon, and in this story his older brother has just committed suicide after running for political office in Garibaldi. It’s the 10th story in Whatever you’re on, I want some.

It’s raw.

The Literary Goon

Post-funeral

by Will Johnson

FIRST WE swallowed bitter shards of MDMA, spent hours slip-sliding over each other’s bodies giddy and feverish. I’d been staying at my brother’s mansion with my ex-girlfriend Kylie, up in Garibaldi, for nearly two weeks. We wandered the streets shirtless, dove into foggy backyard pools that didn’t belong to us. We did blow off the toilet tank. We sipped mushroom tea, pinkies erect, then watched Jurassic Park while we waited, dopily dragging on cigarettes and ashing on the freshly installed carpet. We smoked salvia and hash, hot-knifed thumb smudges of tar-black ooze. We were doing okay, food-wise: salmon steaks, cheese-drowned Tostitos, frozen blueberries. We drank Black Label and Bailey’s-infused coffee. Some days we binged on Chinese food and pizza; more often we wandered the linoleum barefoot and mind-fucked, sniffling and twitching, having forgotten what hunger feels like.

And whenever we got bored we circled the neighbourhood spearing my brother’s campaign signs onto unsuspecting people’s lawns, just to fuck with them. Vote for Joshua Bishop, indeed. 

One night Kylie fled. I careened along shadowed boulevards in my brother’s minivan just after 3 a.m., wearing sweatpants and a pair of Santa Claus slippers, chain-smoking cigarettes to keep my headspace level. The night dew-misted my forearm hair from the open window. When my headlights slashed across a lawn three blocks over I glimpsed Kylie under an expansive, shadowed oak with thick, threatening arms. She was curled fetal, wearing red bikini bottoms, dollar store flip flops and my Garibaldi Elementary GRAD OF 2004 hoodie. As I lugged her limply off the grass a dog-walker in a peacoat paused on the sidewalk.

“She had a little too much to drink,” I explained. “We’re all good here.”

“And who are you to her, exactly?” he asked, cell phone palmed. “It looks like she needs some assistance.”

“We’re fine, honestly. I’m just taking her home.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

Kylie moaned in my arms as I lift-shoved her into the passenger seat. Her legs slackly dangled towards the concrete as I gathered up her feet and slammed the door shut behind her. Peacoat man flapped his arms, distressed and honking.

“If you fuck with me,” I said. “I’ll kill your little dog and drink its blood.”

I don’t remember what he said after that, but I do remember the electric surge of hatred that blood-dumped through my veins. This man’s banal existence, his uncomplicated morality, the look of fearful revulsion on his face—all of these offended some feral version of myself I’d unleashed during those weeks. I battered my chest, squeezing out wild tears, and roared in his face until he retreated with his little dog yipping.

Kylie wore a thick-padded bra with metal crescents scooping under each fleshy handful. She whined as I undressed her, paranoid of the oil-like substance pooling on the walls and overflowing into the living room ceiling. I worked my fingers under each goose-pimpled boob, inhaled her chest glister. Kylie wasn’t mine exclusively, but our experiences were our own. I took her earlobe in my mouth, her weight supported in my arms, and worked it with my tongue like a soother. We’d tired of our porn-inspired routines and were finding creative ways to exploit each other’s bodies lazily, gluttonously. A tweaked nipple on mushrooms is like a chest-explosion, while a firmly gripped dick on acid can change your life. Cheek to arm pit, sole to shin, elbow to pelvic bone, we chest-banged and hugged, childlike, in the trenches of our sweat-soiled blankets.

Then we slept.  

Sometimes I get brain whispers from my former self, little buried guilt yelps from the Christian kid I used to be. He’s horrified. Kylie struggles to believe I used to be religious, that I used to keep a prayer journal, that I was once scandalized by swear words. She can’t visualize it, can’t reconcile it with the version of me that she knows: a hipster rich kid with no moral code to speak of. She can’t understand that it’s all the same impulse, that God is nothing more than the Drug of all Drugs, that the hardest thing I ever had to kick was Christianity. Driving by St. Catherine’s I’ve got multi-year histories flashing across my vision. Our youth pastor Trent Stonehouse sings at the front of the sanctuary, takes kids on missions trips to Tijuana and Brazil and the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver, and then there’s all the kids I knew—Amber, Turner, Paisley, Neil and Ty—they’re all memory-cached, worshipping with the Agape Soldiers onstage while I sway awkward in the pews and try to figure out how come I’m the only one who does’t seem to feel it. Sure, I’ve felt the Holy Spirit before—or at least I believed I felt it at the time—and I’ve been one of those ultra-pious kids seizing on the ground, overcome as the Church Moms lay blankets over our God-blissed teenage bodies. Slain in the spirit.

But spiritual awakenings wear off. Slowly, one day after the next, I felt the emotional intensity drain. Outside the context of the St. Catherine’s sanctuary all the meaning dribbled out until I had to go back, soul-hungry, for more. Being a disciple of Christ meant living this special type of life, meant elevating yourself from the mundanity. At Camp Evergreen, around the campfire, we sang “Jesus, I am yours” and two hours later Rachel Peachland gave me a hand job behind the girl’s cabin line, a frantic and gasp-filled spectacle in the shadows. I was a little perv, shame-soaked but undeterred, obsessed with girls but convinced that every lustful thought was a freshly disgusting sin, something to beg forgiveness for. Do you know how exhausting it is to be ashamed all the time? To spend your life hearing how sinful and hopeless you are without Jesus?

Turner used to say the whole point of grace is you don’t need to feel guilt, that God’s already forgiven you before you even dream up our next transgression.

But who said we need to be forgiven at all?

“If you could go back and be Christian again, would you do it?” Kylie asked, morning squinting in my brother’s bed, her voice grumbly from sixteen hours of sleep. I gripped sleepily at my dick while urine hammered into the shower drain.

“I think about that every day.”

“And?”

“Are we talking like a lobotomy-type solution here? Like would I have to give up part of my brain?”

“No, just say you believed again.”

“The thing is, to make that happen I’d have to give it up.”

“What?”

“My doubt. My fucking reason. I’d have to give up my whole personality.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Yes necessarily. Unless God fucking prances in here and goes ‘hey, Joel, I’m fucking real’, this shit isn’t going to happen.”

I slump into her lap. Kylie was born in a Burmese orphanage, got adopted by white Canadians. Didn’t find that out until three months into our thing, when I met her crazy Mom. She kept all that to herself, and I understood why. People project shit, put labels on you. Who wants to be the starving kid from one of those World Vision commercials? She didn’t want pity; she just wanted to be Kylie.

I liked her way more than I realized.

“But what if the thing with Trent never happened?”

“It wasn’t about him. I stopped going to St. Catherine’s way before all that shit in Mexico, before any of those other guys.”

“Do you think he raped anyone you know? Like anyone in the youth group?”

“Fuck, what’s gotten into you?”

“I’m just so curious. I’ve never met someone who knew a real child molester.”

“You talk like it’s a movie star or something.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“So what do you think? Do you think he was doing like pervy, Catholic-style shit?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“But what do you think?”

“I mean they say he molested this Mexican kid, right? Or two of them? That’s why he got arrested originally, in Tijuana. But they never came up with any Canadian victims.”

“Who’s they?”

“Investigators or whatever. He was down there for eleven years years, and it’s kind of like why press charges and do all that work if he’s not even in Garibaldi?”

“Shit.”

“But eventually they figure he’ll be back, right? I mean, the Mexicans can’t keep him forever.”

“When is that going to be?”

“The system’s so corrupt down there. Guilty til proven innocent, all that.”

“Turner told me he got letters.”

“From Trent?”

“Yeah, a while back he was telling me stories about Trent. He told me the letter said ‘you can’t turn your back on God’ and ‘don’t let this be an excuse to lose your faith’, all this shit.”

“Are you serious?”

“From prison he was giving him a sermon!”

“Fuck.”

“I mean, we were smoking a joint but I’m pretty sure he was telling the truth. Wasn’t he like Trent’s little favourite? Do you think it was him Trent messed with?”

I’ve considered that plenty of times, but it’s different to say out loud.

“Trent had a weird thing with Paisley Troutman, one of the girls in the worship band. People were gossiping about that for years.”

“But doesn’t he fuck little boys?”

“Yeah, but maybe he’s just like a non-discriminating deviant, right? Just raping whoever, wherever. Dudes’ fucking evil.”

“I heard there’s some people that think he’s still innocent.”

I light a cigarette, roll across the bed and go looking for blow.

“I’m not one of them,” I say.

Kylie sat cross-legged and hungover in the minivan’s passenger seat, reorganizing her purse while we descended the Sea to Sky. Cliffs draped with steel netting loomed to our left. To the right was nothing but open, cloudless sky. The road slalomed along the mountain slope, twist-rising and falling just as quickly. Ocean air swirled around us. A grey thumb of stone emerged in the distance, thrusted up hitchhiker-style, with a few stubborn bushes defiantly alive atop it’s wind-blasted summit forty feet above the road.

The mansions along the highway—stilted and gleaming in the trees—reflected the Pacific’s blue glow from giant mirrored windows. These were the people in my brother’s voting district, who had proudly displayed his campaign signs so they would be visible for commuters passing through the construction progress below. Vote for Joshua Bishop.

No more.

“The last shit we got from Turner was dirty,” Kylie mumbled. “Fucking weak.”

“That wasn’t his regular guy.”

“Says him.”

A bored, sunburned teenager wearing a Solomon Development Ltd. uniform waved us off the highway, past some pylons and orange fencing, and towards the razed shoulder currently being paved. Steamrollers grumbled a few kilometres further on, while in front of us six men guided a crane-suspended concrete median into place. I parked beside a line of trucks facing oceanward, overlooking Howe Sound, and texted Turner. Within a few minutes he appeared, knuckle-rapping the window, and Kylie unlocked the sliding door behind her.

“You two’ve been voracious lately,” Turner said. “You’re outpacing my coworkers, even.”

Kylie ignored him, sullen.

“I’ve got five hundred here, that’s two for last time and three for now,” I said.

“And you’ve got time for a couple lines now?”

An ice-blue sky populated with drifting gulls appeared as I took my first hit. Their beak-tips were dolloped with bright red. I thumbed a nostril for leverage, snorted with all my might, and sucked back. It filled me like sunlight. Wave-crests built frothing and burst into chaos amidst the rocks below.

“That feels better, huh?” said Turner. “I’m gonna fire through my afternoon.”

“I don’t know how you do this dip-shit job, man.”

“Whatever.”

“I would feel like one of those historical Chinese guys they used to dynamite the tunnels, you know? Like some expendable pawn they use for the hard labour. A slave they can just blow up whenever they feel like.”

“Yeah, so what’s your fucking job, Bishop?”

Kylie dabbed residue on her gums, sucking her finger. The world continued outside our windshield, introduced a dangling silhouette to our view-scape. It took me a moment to take this character in: parachuting past with some magical floating canopy, he was trailing an unfurled sign that read NO OLYMPICS ON STOLEN NATIVE LAND while filming with a camera strapped to his wrist. He was wearing those stupid shoes with individual toes, the ones rich men wear, and spandex head to toe—like some gravity-defying ninja spirit. I almost laughed.

How long had he prepared for this moment? What did he imagine he would see, hanging suspended and superior over us? The afternoon wind carried him sideways, tilting.

“Look at that piece of shit,” said Turner. “Look at him flying high.”

On the way back to town, Kylie asked if we could swing by her friend Lauren’s place. She lived in one of the new townhouses by the highway, Garibaldi Estates, on the fifth floor.

“This bitch owes me like a hundred bucks,” Kylie said as we rode the elevator up. “She’s always doing shit like this, and I can’t let her get away with it. You know what I mean?”

I shrugged.

The hallway hung silent following Kylie’s door-battering, but after a minute or two the door rattled and opened. A girl wearing a short pink bathrobe leaned into view, her bed-shagged hair streaked a similar hue. Her eyes were half-closed.

“Uh huh,” she said.

“You gonna let us inside?” Kylie asked.

“I’ll come out’n talk,” she said, pained.

I pretended to ignore them while they argued in the hallway, and watched as a dishevelled crow shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the roof, its talons clicking, just outside the window. Kylie paced shouting while Lauren listened bored with her beautiful brown legs.

Eventually Kylie turned back to me, exasperated. “Let’s go, Joel.”

Once we got back on to the Juan de Fuca Hill she held out her palm, two chalky pills cradled in the creases.

“This is supposed to be boss stuff. It’s K. She didn’t have any cash.”

How can I capture that moment? Kylie halfway-swivelled against the seatbelt, her forehead salmon pink from the sun and her white palm-skin outstretched. The grassy bluffs leading up towards the towering dominance of Mount Garibaldi were stretched out behind her, floating and blurred, while within the carpeted boundaries of our little vehicle we were safety-bathed by the air conditioning. I swallowed the pill. We hurtled towards our future.

“Will you put some more signs up with me later?” I asked. “After?”

“Of course.”

“There’s still so many, babe.”

“We can put up as many as you want, babe.”

Sixteen years old I thumb-dabbed my goggles, donkey-kicking, my headphones tucked under my swim cap. The finals heat for the 100 butterfly at provincial championships, and I was the one standing in front of Lane 4. Ty was there, Sketch and Neil too. I spat air, flailed, my feet splashing on the tiles. I expected to win my whole life, always anticipated easy victory—what does that say about me? I had this daily suspicion that I was a little more interesting than everyone else, a little more talented. My brother Josh was the same way, and all during the campaign I wonder if he had any idea how wrong things could go, how easily his future would evaporate. Vote for Joshua Bishop. I can see his temp’s bemused face, the self-satisfied sneer, as he ruined my family’s life with every fucking word he spoke. As soon as my brother’s news went public, our family scattered into our own grief trajectories, none of us sure how to handle the sudden scrutiny. And before we could decide whether we forgave him, before we could prove to him that being a part of the Bishop family means more than some sex scandal, some political campaign, before my father could even talk to him, he was gone. The ocean will take us all, I figure, but we were left with his body, shower-dangling, at his mansion in Garibaldi. That house! White carpets like cat fur underfoot. This is where I belonged, not slave-waging away in Vancouver.

Underwater is where I feel best, dolphin-kicking streamlined. Life made sense at 16, when my evening revolved around 58 seconds of frenzied exertion. Fuck real life and the future and the present moment too because I’m suspended mid-dive, dripping, while around me the bleachers erupt with cheering. Ice-wind slashes my cheekbones and stings my eyes shut.

Rotting clumps of mown grass collected on my boots as I worked my way up the St. Catherine’s lawn, past the youth trailer in the parking lot, up towards the stained glass window at the apex of the sanctuary. As kids we played this game called Gestapo where the youth leaders would chase us through the streets of Garibaldi with flashlights while we raced from Diefenbaker Park to the safety of the church. I scanned the treeline for spectators, but I was alone. I was thinking about this thing Turner once told me, about how we’re all just energy morphing from one form to the next. In reality, he was the first one to ditch on Jesus. He was braver than I was, less scared of the social consequences, or maybe he was just more honest.

“When I die and go to Heaven, I’m going to walk into the throne room of God and I’ll have three simple words for him: what the fuck?” Turner told me, perched in the Sky Train window, when I asked him about why he wasn’t coming to church anymore.

“If you had kids, what could they do to stop you from loving them?” he asked me.

“Nothing, I guess.”

“So why are we worshipping a deity who routinely condemns whole swaths of society to Hell? It’s so fucking arbitrary, Bishop! You’re born in India, you’re fucked. You’re born in China, you’re fucked. But if you’re a white Christian dude, everything will be fine and you’ll be a happy little saved boy.”

I didn’t know what to say then, and I still don’t now.

“A God like that doesn’t deserve my love.”

The way Turner talked, he didn’t miss religion. He didn’t miss understanding everything, having that communal reassurance. He liked to be an outlier, a rebel, a heathen.

“You can’t spend your whole life pretending,” Turner said. “Sooner or later you have to admit we wasted our teenage years on a medieval crock of bullshit.”

All that meaning, all those years of prayer, all that struggling and learning—for what? I speared the first campaign sign firmly beside St. Catherine’s front entrance, another one beneath its stained glass, and the final one at the top of their hilly lawn. My brother’s plastic face smiling from each one. Then I sat, butt-damp in the grass, and lit a cigarette. My brother was 33 years old when he died, the same age they nailed Jesus to a fucking cross, but he wasn’t dying for any reason. He didn’t get to close his eyes knowing he’d made some huge sacrifice, knowing that he left the world a better place than when he arrived. My brother died tormented and hopeless, kicking against the porcelain, and who deserves that? How come he got hand-picked for that fate? I felt personally robbed of decades of experience, of the chance to see his face wrinkle, his voice change, his hair go white like Dad’s.

“I really wanted to believe in You,” I told the looming, dark church. “If I had a choice, I’d still be here. You know that.”

I couldn’t believe I was praying. I was still high.

“If there’s something more to this, something I’m missing…I guess what I’m saying is if you’re going to keep me around, You’re going to have to do something.”

I sat there quiet, wondering what God could do, short of flashing across the sky in all His radiance, to convince me of His presence. I heard this quote once, attributed to a 16th century hymn writer: “a God comprehended is not God”. If that’s true, then why even attempt to grasp the mystery? Why call out to Him, why pray, why devote yourself to a deity who can’t (or won’t) respond? When I was a kid I used to make little faith bargains, sending mental requests for God to manipulate the circumstances around me. (“If you really exist, make that kid put something in the garbage can as he walks by.”) Sometimes it even worked. It was like having an Almighty, imaginary friend. But now I’m an adult, a real person, I’ve read fucking Nietzsche. I won’t be so easy to convince. A warm feeling in my chest won’t be enough, a whispered voice deep in my psyche was completely inadequate. I needed something tangible, a Burning Bush-style sign, and I would accept nothing short of a miracle. Maybe my brother could bound out of one of his election signs, let me know this was all an elaborate dream sequence, or maybe Trent would materialize in front of me and explain what happened down in Mexico all those years ago. He’ll tell me our youth group’s implosion was part of some larger, mystical scheme, that St. Catherine’s has some continued role to play in my life. 

Or what? An angel! A demon! Anything. These sorts of visions end up in sermons and heartfelt testimonies, in parables. These experiences alter people’s entire lives, give them purpose and direction. Why not me? Why couldn’t I, just once, be allowed a glimpse of something beyond all this? Why couldn’t I be the one with the faith, the one who understands the light while everyone else stands in the dark?

“Will You speak to me?” I said, my voice trembling. “Are You there?”

[hangonimevolving]

Crafting Days

I’ve been more artsy craftsy in the last few months, at regular intervals, than I’ve been in probably years.  It’s been delightful - again, a silver lining of some otherwise weird and unnerving times.  But, we must relish the sweet things in life, mustn’t we.

Made myself some cloth face masks... repurposed from the optional sleeves that are provided with many salvar kameez sets bought in India!  Yay for staying safe and doing so by repurposing/upcycling!  I also like that these are unique prints of fabric.

This tan, cotton, block-printed one is my “everyday” mask....

(forgive my appearance in this hideous pink paper gown... I was at my allergist’s office for some dreaded allergy testing, and was keeping myself occupied so I didn’t have to think about all the shots I was about to get)

And this bright blue bandhini (tie-dye) and bead-embellished silk one is my “fancy” mask ;)

I’m especially proud of my proprietary design with this blue mask - - I made this one with a filter pocket, as well as a lip gloss/lipstick guard, haha!  I should probably keep my trade secrets to myself, but I can’t help sharing.

I also made a few “ear-savers” for the kids’ masks, because they both kept complaining about how their masks bothered their ears.

In the category of “Crafting: Covid-19 Protective Gear,” I can also share pics of these vinyl decals that I have made for our family’s face shields.  Here are the decals I’ve made for Vev and Dey’s shields - a volcano and a monster truck, respectively:

As for my own shield - I had made a very detailed elephant face one for my first shield and wore it all the time, but alas - I think that my shield has walked off somewhere (read: a visiting child at our house might have accidentally broken it, and thrown it away).  So I ordered myself some new shields, and have been in the process of embellishing them with these decals the last few days.  

Those initiated in the dark arts of die-cut crafting may pick up on the fact that with this recent group of projects, I have finally taken the plunge into the world of MULTI-LAYER VINYL projects.  I have, thus far, not been brave enough to attempt this, but after watching a number of YouTube tutorials, I decided to give it a whirl.  To my delight, its actually not as hard as I thought it would be!  I have definitely had some imperfect turns with some decals, and I doubt I’m destined to be an Etsy store owner - but but most of the time, its not too horrible, at least for projects for my own personal use.  

So!  On to other types of projects.  I made some vinyl decals to dress up these boring collage picture frames that I had prepared with photos of Vev and Dey dopplegangering each other as babies....

And then, I’ve been doing some more greeting cards and paper crafts.  I made a few cards which I seem to have neglected to photograph (dammit), but I’ve also been making these section dividers for the kids’ homeschooling portfolios. Homeschooling portfolios are basically these big-ass binders that you have to prepare for a homeschooling student, which contain all sorts of info from administrative details, to curriculum samples, to samples of the kid’s work, for the ENTIRE year.  The eventual purpose of the portfolio is for review by a designated authority person from the state department of education to ensure that your child has met all requirements satisfactorily for advancement to the next grade level, for if/when you plan to put them back in traditional school.

 Putting the portfolios together is a very involved task - but, to be honest, I’m actually enjoying it a lot.  It’s been a chance to use my educator brain to get all the administrative and curricular details laid out, but also my creative brain to make the portfolio interesting and visually engaging.

So.  Anyway.  Here are a few of the dividers I’ve made to denote the various academic subjects that the kids are studying with me this year!

And here is the cover art for Vev’s portfolio.  I was super proud of myself for searching the internet till I found a free downloadable font that is a replica of the original Pan Am logo font :)

I have to take a pic of Dey’s cover art, as well as the other academic subject dividers I’ve made!  Somehow I’ve not been very fastidious with photographing my work.

A final area of crafting (or at least, creativity) that I can showcase today is recent pancake art.  I don't remember the last creations that I showed on my blog, so forgive me if there are repeats....

I might have shown these before... a brain for Dr. Spouse, and a couple of pancakes made in the image of beloved toys (Dey’s robot, Vev’s “doom buggy” courtesy of the gift shop outside the Haunted Mansion ride in Disneyworld)

Other random, “normal” stuff a kid would ask for (well, at least my kids)....  a football stadium, a racecar, a squid, a whale, a tombstone (Halloween year-round, baby) :

 But they also have me make other weird shapes and scenarios.

~~~~. Okay, I had every intention of putting a few more pictures up in this post. But for some reason, Tumblr is behaving crazy and not allowing me to upload anymore. Dang.  Well - I’ve sat on this post for a few days now, trying to troubleshoot Tumblr, but I think what I’ll do is just hit post, and save some of my weirder, more random pancake art requests for another day.

Alrighty... toodles for now!

[waitinginthedarke]

BIGBANG - MAFIA!AU - SERIES 3

A BIGBANG FANFICTION

Summary: The saying goes, ‘the mafia is family, the mafia is home’...but even if ‘the mafia is home’...is it really the right place to raise a child?

A/N: ARE WE READY?!?! Mafia is back! And this time we see Seunghyun’s quest for the truth, and Jiyong’s want for his own little family. But BEWARE...everything is not as it seems...O.o

Masterlist (including series one and two)

Chapter 1

‘Back gate, right hand side, 5 paces away….4….3….2-‘

The sound of a single gunshot piercing through your ear piece makes your limbs lock momentarily before the sound of a body dropping to the ground reaches you and you stand up from where you’d been crouched behind the fence watching the approach of the assassin’s footsteps.

You start sprinting across the shipping yard immediately, following the map that you memorised in your head as you continue to scan the area and listen to the directions being given through the ear piece to the others.

‘Two more have been sent out. They’re getting suspicious. I give you approximately 3 minutes to shut everything down. …God. This is so boring-‘

‘Youngbae, shut up.’

You smirk at Jiyong’s quick disciplining of his friends whining through your earpiece, the shortest man having been wrapped into being the eyes and ears of the operation back at HQ after he’d suffered a serious leg injury a few days before which had made him unable to leave the mansion- something that you’d all heard about far more than you’d have liked to.

The operation you were all on now was simple, a rouge gang had set up base on the edges of Seoul without permission, and refused to abide by the rules, and therefore Jiyong had demanded that they be taken out. He’d given them 2 chances to adhere to the laws of his empire, but after a shoot-out cropping up in an abandoned factory in Hongdae, and numerous robberies and raids being staged in the lower Gangnam areas, he’d decided there was only one option; dispose of the gang responsible.

And tonight was the deadline.

‘Daesung, are you in position?’ Jiyong asks, as you stalk over to the bordering fence on the top of the hill that overlooked the gang’s base below, keeping yourself in the shadows as you observe the group that appeared to be caught between a meeting and being a little anxious.

‘Yes.’ Comes Daseung’s reply, his straight forward, no nonsense tone making you smile as your eyes catch on one man imparticular who looked like the dictator of the group.

‘Hyung?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘Youngbae?’

‘Obviously.’

‘Seungri-‘

‘Been waiting for hours.’

The two seconds of silence that should have been filled with your name has you frowning suddenly, but just as you go to tell Jiyong you were also in place, eagle eyed vision that had been trained into you courtesy of Daesung still on the man below who was now suspiciously watching the main entrance to the small area the group was hauled up in, you become aware of a presence behind you.

Before you can turn to confront whoever it was, their voice is filling your ear and you instantly relax into his hold as his hands settle on your waist.

‘Ready, Beautiful?’

You could feel your focus slipping minutely as his breath tickles your neck, a smile pulling at the edges of your mouth as the two of you stare down at the people milling around like rats below you, a few appearing to arm themselves, and you feel his smirk against your cheek as it matches you own, the two of you knowing that their defence was going to be futile against the pure power of your mafia.

‘Im always ready.’ You whisper, turning your head slightly towards him and seeing him smile down at you, lips thinning and eyes scrunching up a little as the expression takes over his face, before he leans toward you, mouth lingering oh so close to yours, and you find your focus waning more in your want for him, the same want that had caused your skin to burn from within since the very first kiss.

But in typical teasing Jiyong style, he only drops a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and fixing you with a menacing, cheeky, excited look.

‘Then lets show everyone how its done.’

‘2 and a half minutes…not our best, but it is the third fastest time we’ve ever taken to demolish a gang.’ Seungri announces as you all sit around for the debriefing meeting after getting back from the take out. You were leaning over Jiyong as he sat in one of the cushioned chairs dotted around the office, cleaning some cuts that he’d got in the middle of the fight, and covering them with plasters until he looked like a young child that had fell over numerous times in the playground.

‘The more important issue at the minute Seungri, is filing the background of the gang so that we can do a quick sweep on any remaining members who might never have come to the city. Then we issue a warning to them not to come to Seoul, and we make sure we don’t get caught by surprise if they choose to retaliate. -Youngbae I’ll leave the research to you, since sitting in front of a computer has become your new speciality.’ Jiyong dictates as he looks over at the man in question sat behind your desk, Youngbae sneering back at him which makes the man in front of you smirk, before you perch on the edge of the chair, feeling him slip his arm around your hip and squeeze your thigh subconsciously as he turns his attention to the oldest of the group.

‘Whats the bullet situation, hyung? Do we need to restock on reserves, update our suppliers or weaponry, invest in some new…- hyung?’

‘Hm?’

You had noticed at the same time Jiyong seemed to that Seunghyun wasn’t listening, the way he lifts his head from staring down into his wine glass, his eyes being distant and hung with dark bags that lurk beneath, revealing that he hadn’t been present for the entire conversation, and instantly making you wary of his tired expression.

‘Uh…Daesung can you go and do the general checks on security and maintenance and-‘

‘On it.’ The elusive man answers before Jiyong can even finish, his eyes still shifting uneasily between Seunghyun and the rest of the room, the older man upon noticing this, sighing heavily and downing his glass, before standing up and making to leave the room before he could get caught up in a serious conversation...but obviously Jiyong wasn’t going to let him go without questioning him.

‘Hyung, wait. Sit back down.’ Ji commands, shooting his older friend a look which causes him to nod shortly, slightly disgruntled, before standing in the spot he’d come to stop, and watching as Seungri helps to haul Youngbae out of the room on Jiyong’s hand-gesture for them to leave, the youngest man throwing Youngbae’s arm over his shoulder and pretty much swinging him out of the doorway as he protests at his roughness.

You make to leave as well, figuring you’d probably find out about whatever was bothering Seunghyun later from Jiyong anyway. However, as you go to get up, you feel Jiyong’s hand clamp down on your thigh, and you look down to see him shake his head minutely, not looking at you, but telling you without words that he wanted you to stay.

The silence that takes over the room when the door clicks shut afterwards could have been cut with a knife.

‘What can I do for you, Jiyong?’ Seunghyun speaks up after a solid minute of quiet, and its not until he breaks the silence that you realize you hadn’t been breathing, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief-

-but that’s before Jiyong speaks up.

‘Why are you so distracted, hyung?’

His voice is soft, a note of caring being evident in the way he addresses the question to his older brother, and if it wasn’t for the tick in his eyebrow you’d believe the question to be being asked on a friend level, rather than authoritative. However, just when you think a heated debate would ensue from the question, you watch Seunghyun walk over to the window and look out distractedly, before responding.

‘Kyungil told me that whoever sent him... was looking for me.’  

At first you’re confused, having forgotten about the man that had broken into the house a week before, since no-one had mentioned it since the day. But once your brain had had a few seconds to compute the name, you realize what Seunghyun had said, and you frown over at him in confusion, thoughts of just what he’d done to the prisoner, mixing in with questions surrounding how he’d come to know this... and how long he’d known for.

‘He hasn’t told you who it was though?’ Jiyong asks bluntly, appearing to be completely unfazed by the suddenness of Seunghyun’s confession, and it takes only a brief glance at him for you to see by the steely gaze he was watching Seunghyun with, revealing that he was compartmentalizing the information he was receiving in his mind- this including Seunghyun’s subconscious actions and responses to the situation you were in now.

‘…No. According to him the set up was such that he never knew who the order originally came from…although he did tell me who his boss is who received the order in the first place, he didn’t-‘

‘And you’re only thinking to mention this now?!’

Jiyong snapping at Seunghyun has your spine instantly straightening in response, your glance over at the older man revealing how he was clenching his jaw in barely restrained frustration as he stares over at the man beside you, the look deadly in your opinion, but not touching Jiyong as he stares back in wait of an answer.

‘In the midst of the issue with the gang we just demolished, I judged it as less important.’ The older man answers calmly, his answer almost murmured with how tight his lips were pressed in an attempt to keep his anger under control, but you should have known Jiyong wouldn’t bother to hold back.

‘We’re not children, Hyung. We can multi-task. And when there is a threat on the life of someone in my gang, I’d appreciate knowing about it the second it becomes apparent! Besides, since when was it your call to make whether it was ‘less important’ or not?! There is someone after you, and you’re treating it as a minor inconvenience, rather than the threat that it IS!’ Jiyong shouts, shooting up from the chair and planting his feet as he snaps at the older man, gesturing wildly in his anger, and it’s the second he gets close enough to hit Seunghyun on the chest in an attempt to get his point across, that the other man finally breaks out of his own control.

‘HOW CAN YOU SHOUT AT ME ABOUT NOT CARING ABOUT A THREAT ON MY LIFE, WHEN ALL WE’VE DONE FOR THE PAST FOUR YEARS IS PROTECT SOME GIRL YOU PICKED UP FOR MONEY?! We’ve put our lives on the line for Y/N time and time again at your every command, with the specific order that its her, or death, but NOW…NOW?! you expect me to think about myself?!’ Seunghyung spits, his harsh words forcing you to freeze in place as the subject is turned on you,  and you wish you could curl into a ball, or become some insignificant object in the room. But instead you’re left with your heart racing as you watch Jiyong scoff darkly at Seunghyun before suddenly surging at him and shoving him back into the wall, the older man smirking darkly as he lets him.

‘What is this really about?! Why are you really angry!? …cause I know you, hyung…and I know that you wouldn’t be acting like this if you weren’t-‘

He trails off. 

You’re only able to see Seunghyun’s face from your position on the chair, but even without seeing Jiyong’s expression, you’re aware of the change in atmosphere between the two, Jiyong pausing with his hands still clenched in the other man’s shirt, before suddenly shoving him back uselessly against the wall and letting go, turning back with his head bowed and pacing to the opposite side of the room.

There is silence for a minute, the three of you caught in suspense as Jiyong leans against the opposite wall, and despite you looking over at Seunghyun in an attempt to receive some answers, you simply see him continuing to stare at his younger brother, an indistinguishable expression on his face, before he bows his head momentarily and turns toward the door.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He mutters, swiping at the newly made creases in his shirt as he takes a step toward the exit, before getting stopped by Jiyong speaking up.

‘Make Daesung stay with you during watch duty. I’ll give orders to the security team-‘

‘-Jiyong-‘

‘-so that we’re aware of any disturbances, and I’ll contact Jiho to get his men to give out orders for patrols to the nearest gangs,-’

‘-Jiyong, I-’

‘-I expect he’ll get Kyung on communication monitoring…but for now, I’ll just tell him there is a threat to someone inside, they don’t need to know who…’ he murmurs, trailing off, but still refusing to look at the older man who’d tried to interrupt him repeatedly, as he watches out the window from the opposite side of the room, face expressionless…leaving no room for argument.

It takes Seunghyun a moment, being caught in the same position of de-wrinkling his shirt during the whole time Jiyong had spoken, before slowly dropping his hands to his wrist cuffs, and softly touching the cufflinks- almost thoughtfully- before lifting his head with a deep breath and fixing a polite smile on his face as he briefly turns to nod at the other man.

‘Acknowledged. Goodnight, Jiyong, Y/N.’

And with that, he was gone.

You end up sat in place for at least 5 minutes as you wait for Jiyong to speak up after Seunghyun had left, finding yourself picking at your nails by the time he finally pushes himself off of the wall with a sigh and walks over to the desk, collapsing into the chair and looking over at you tiredly, smiling without enthusiasm when he sees you watching him.

‘Not the end to the night I imagined.’ He murmurs, his eyes glazing over as he hangs his head back against the chair in exhaustion, and the move has you on your feet and moving over to him instantly, coming to stop behind him and lowering your hands to his shoulders as you go to work out the knots in his muscles.

‘At least now you’re aware of the threat. …I just cant help but wonder how long he’s been sat on the information…and why he didn’t tell you straight away…’ you murmur, voicing your thoughts out loud and instantly regretting it when it computes in your mind that it might get Jiyong riled up again.

Luckily for you, however, he seemed to have burned his anger out for the night, and instead of saying anything else regarding the matter, he simply reaches his hands up to find yours and links your fingers together, pulling you forward so that you were lent over his back with your arms around him, the move making you smile as you nuzzle his neck fondly.

‘Do you fancy getting out of here for the night?’ he murmurs, turning his head toward you and kissing your cheek, his lips lingering to make a shiver roll up your spine, and you’re quickly turning to look at him, smiling as you nod, before finding yourself chuckling against his lips as he captures your mouth with his, before pulling away with his own grin as he jumps to his feet and clasps your hand in his.

‘Gaja!’

You could feel your humid pants bouncing back from the wall and making your skin clammy as you blearily stare down the corridor, not seeing anything, too busy lost in the feeling of Jiyong clasping you to him as he groans with his final thrust into you, his mouth clamped on your neck as his teeth use you for purchase; to ground himself, and to mark you as his.

Strangled pants leave you as you feel the high beginning to seep from your muscles, your arms that are locked around your lover’s neck slowly loosening their grip to allow him to move again, but he simply remains buried in your neck, trapping you between his body and the wall of the apartment’s hallway, after he’d brought you back to the old HQ to escape the confines of the mansion.

‘I love you, my Y/N…I’ll protect you with my life... as long as you always stay mine.’ He whispers quietly between heavy breaths, seeming to get his breath back quicker than you as he murmurs the words against the skin of your neck, taking a moment to suck a lingering kiss next to your spine at the back of your neck, the action making you weak-kneed, before he finally carries you to the bedroom you used to share.

Despite the sheets being cold on your skin as you lay down, you still find yourself curling into the comfort the material offered, enjoying the familiarity of it after having spent a good 2-3 years of your life laid in its confines, smiling even wider when Jiyong rolls onto the bed on the other side of you, entire body bare, and beautiful as ever.

You’d never get bored of admiring his physique, of his pure brilliance that shone from every sculpted muscle, the expanse of his flawlessly, permanently sun-kissed skin glowing in the pale moonlight that illuminated the room through the window, and his model-like, ambiguous facial features that only increased his beauty, making him unique…one-of-a-kind…

...and all yours.

You watch him slowly fall into the realms of sleep, smiling when he-almost subconsciously- reaches over for you, his hand making contact with your thigh and trying to pull it towards him before he realizes sleepily that it was too big to be your wrist. He exhaustedly peers one eye open to find you chuckling at him as he finally reaches for your hand, before continuing to go to sleep as he pulls your arm over to lay your hand on his chest, over his heart, his own hand maintaining its hold on your wrist even as he begins to snore lightly, and its as you watch him that your mind drifts back to the conversation that Jiyong had attempted to have with you the previous week.

…a baby…

You’d only been able to stare at him when he’d put the suggestion to you, not knowing whether to believe that he was being serious or not, but after the two of you had been watching each other in silence for well over 2 minutes straight, the bath water seeming to grow colder around you with each second that passed, you’d just ended up chuckling humorlessly and asking ‘do you want to watch a film later?’ before laying your head back on his chest and closing your eyes. The signal was clear enough that he didn’t press you on it, and after a moment of being still he’d simply sighed quietly and held you close against him…

…but the discussion had continued to haunt your every waking thought for the past 7 days.

It was looking at his face in that moment, imagining it on a child, and imagining being able to stroke its cheek as you were doing to Jiyong then, that sparked the flickering of an interest in you to know what it would be like to have a child in your life.

Ever since you were a young girl and you were able to understand the significance and meaning of a baby, it had been drilled into you that that was a part of life; that you were put on the planet to bear children and that that was just how it was. 

But after going through the separation and abandonment from your parents and your brother, and witnessing the heartbreak that came from the life you lead, the danger it entailed, and the earth crushing mental destruction that it came with, the want for a child had been replaced by fear, and the thought had never crossed your mind again.

…Until now.

…Until Jiyong had made it obvious that he wanted one.

Because even though you’d always wanted to give Jiyong everything, endeavoring to provide everything and anything that he desired…

…you weren’t entirely sure you could give him this…

‘Can’t sleep?’

His quite murmur surprises you where you’d thought he was sleeping, and you’re moving your gaze that had been fixed on his hand laid over yours on his chest to look up at his face, seeing him sleepily looking back at you, but not bothering to fix a smile on your face in response; he could read you like a book anyway.

‘Just thinking about stuff.’ You whisper back, becoming aware of the cavernous feeling of the room as your words disperse into the darkness, and shuffling towards him as a result, sighing contently when he moves his arm to lay around your shoulders, and you hold his torso more firmly with your arm, laying your head comfortably on his chest as you entwine your legs with his.

‘Wanna tell me about it?’ he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair in encouragement, and just as you go to immediately say no, you find something in you wanting to talk about it, to find out just how much Jiyong wanted a child, the thought that if you knew it might convince you...

But just as the words are on the tip of your tongue, he’s whispering in your ear once more.

‘Whatever it is, Jagi…you know I’ll listen to you.’ He murmurs, his voice laden with sleep, and the sound makes your want to tell him take a step back in favor of your need and want for him to get enough sleep.

‘Its nothing huge…I’ll tell you in the morning.’ You murmur back after a moment, tilting your head up to shoot him a small smile and quickly leaning up to peck him on the lips as he makes to protest, before settling yourself back on his chest, hearing him sigh as he silently agrees to let it go till the next day, and feeling yourself calm as he tightens his hold on you as the two of you proceed to succumb to sleep.

However, when you woke up the following morning to cold sheets beneath your hands, only a light blanket covering your body and the light flooding into the room revealing the long since deserted spot on the bed before you, you begin to think that maybe he was keeping his own thoughts from you too...

SEUNGHYUN

‘Leave Daesung, you look exhausted.’ Seunghyun says as he eyes his friend from across the barn, seeing the deathly dark circles beneath his eyes, and te weary sag of his usually taught shoulders, and becoming determined in his will to make sure he rested.

‘Jiyong-hyung said I had to stay on watch duty with you-‘

‘And I’m saying you need to get rest. He has all levels of security on the premises and surrounding areas, Seungri should clock in in about half an hour anyway, and no doubt he will come to check here first, so just…go.’ Seunghyun argues, shooting Daesung the authoritative stare that he’d come to master over the 14 plus years he’d been involved with the others, and seeing it take immediate effect on his most beloved Dongsaeng as he pushes himself up from the chair he’d been sat in watching the other captives, before making his way over to Seunghyun.

‘I’ll call Seungri to tell him to hurry up.’ He murmurs, as he passes, and the older man reaches up to tap him on the arm in comfort, keeping up the cold faced pretense he’d adopted in front of the prisoners, and fighting the reaction that was bubbling under the surface as he glimpes in his peripheral vision a smirk pull at the edges of Kyungil’s lips where he lay ‘sleeping’, knowing he’d have to punish him for it once Daesung had left.

‘I’ll see you in a few hours, Daesungie.’ He responds, settling back in the chair until the younger man had left, and continuing to remain that way for the following five minutes to make sure he wouldn’t return- and also to tease the man chained up before him who, once Daesung had left, had sat up from where he was lying on a mat on the floor, and had proceeded to stare at Seunghyun as he waited for him to speak.

It had become routine.

Ever since Kyungil had given the other man that first bit of information; ever since the connection was made between the two on the first day, Seunghyun had grown a…fondness…for the captive, the other man seeming to simply understand his way of working without him ever having to explain, a thought that had intrigued Seunghyun more than it probably should have.

The first night duty after Kyungil had been strung up- after divulging the information on Seunghyun being the target- the prisoner had admitted that Seunghyun binding him to the bannister had excited him, the concept of the artistic display accompanied with the torturous actions of the sniper, charging his body with a similar adrenaline to that that charged through the man when he was hunting down a target, the admission causing Seunghyun’s blood to rush in his veins, although he’d proceeded to leave the other man in silence.

The second night Seunghyun had bound him to the bars of the cage he had been secluded to along the wall next to his fellow gang members, proceeding to heat and cool the metal bars in quick succession as Kyungil had grunted and groaned in pain and discomfort, whilst still managing to flash the other man his signature smirk until the end. Upon realizing he’d ended his fun, Kyungil had immediately admitted how excited the trick had made him, and against his best interests, Seunghyun had found himself smirking back at the exhausted prisoner, re-positioning him back in his cell and equipping him with a mat to lie on. When Seungri had asked why he had it half an hour later, upon taking over from Seunghyun, the older man had simply told him that he’d provided him with information, and he figured he’d provide more if he was rewarded for doing so…although he didn’t tell him he’d also left a small persimmon with the man too.

The third night, Seunghyun had walked into the barn to find Kyungil already stood in his cell, facing the doorway and barely restraining a smirk as he saw the other man enter, managing to retain a plain expression in front of Daesung, who’d mentioned that the man had only stood 10 minutes before and had remained in that position since, before allowing the smirk to take over his whole expression once the two were alone (minus the other captives, who remained silent on the other side of the barn). That night, Seunghyun had pleased himself with embellishing Kyungil’s skin on his neck with an intricate brand of a dragon, tying the man before him to a table with rough, razor embedded ropes to keep him still- although he imagined he probably wouldn’t have moved anyway, not with the way he appeared to enjoy the experience.

After that it had come to be common place that Kyungil would wait for him to enter the barn for his shift, the man never seeming to tire of Seunghyun’s tricks, and always whispering a quiet thank you whenever he’d leave the barn. It was obvious in the doting, puppy-like gaze that the prisoner had adopted toward the other man that he was enamored with him…but as of yet, Seunghyun was unaware of just what the other man stood for in his mind...

‘Are we not playing tonight?’

His words pull Seunghyun’s mind from the abyss of contemplation and decision-making it had spiraled into, the question making him glance up at the other man from beneath his brows to see him stood close to the bars before him, his gaze inquisitive and innocent until it made contact with Seunghyun’s, when it suddenly turns suggestive and hopeful, the oddness considering Seunghyun’s idea of ‘playing’ always amusing the other man greatly.

‘I don’t think im in the mood tonight.’ Seunghyun murmurs, sighing as he raises his head to sit back properly in the chair, catching the way Kyungil tilts his head slightly in concern as he observes his movements.

‘Something wrong?’

Despite picking up on the curiosity in his tone, masking the man’s want for details, Seunghyun still finds himself wanting to tell Kyungil about his day, the danger in the possibility sending the man to his feet and causing him to begin to slowly pace, first to the bare wall on one side of the barn, and then to the other that housed the other prisoners, paying them no notice, but feeling Kyungil’s eyes on him like an anchor bearing into a seabed.

‘Why do they want me?’ he asks as he passes Kyungil for a third time, the question being worn thin at this point, but he still glances in his direction to insinuate the question was for him, before continuing to pace in wait of his answer.

‘…As I said before…my boss only told me that I had to take you back, he didn’t say-‘

‘And there weren’t any hints, anything that you knew before that might tell you-‘

‘…Seunghyun, all I know is-‘

‘I KNOW THEY WANT ME.’ He roars suddenly, something within him suddenly snapping, his rage appearing from the barely supressed confusion and fear that had been growing on him ever since he found out, and Seunghyun finds himself turning on the other man, reaching through the bars of his cage and grabbing his neck before he can even blink, Kyungil’s expression, rather than the usual smirk, being caught between surprise and suffocated fear, his hands that had come up to instinctively pull Seunghyun’s hand off of him, simply sitting on his wrist as he allows him to contract his grip on his windpipe.

‘What are you going to do?’ he rasps quietly, staring Seunghyun in the eye as he waits for him to make the next move, but simply having the other man glare back at him, too focused on not killing Kyungil as his mind is over taken by confusion, to take notice of anything he was saying.

‘I’m sorry I cant tell you anything else. The only way you’ll know more, is if you come back with me…and you find out for yourself.’ Kyungil whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on the angel’s face of the other man, and dragging in a sudden breath when his grip is suddenly retracted from his neck, the instantaneous-ness of the move leaving him reeling as he watches Seunghyun stride toward the door.

‘Seunghyun? …Seunghyun!’

Kyungil’s calls of his name follow the other man out of the barn, Seungri passing him just outside of the doorway, suddenly spinning in surprise as he watches his hyung brush past him roughly, barely computing in his mind as he beelines for the training room off to the side of the house, blocking any outside view of the barn behind.

He had to know…he needed to know… If he didn’t find out, it was going to rip him apart from the inside out....

…he couldn’t live not knowing much longer…

Its as he crashed through the door to the practice room and smashes his palm against the light switch to illuminate the training space, pausing to allow the struggling filaments to force light into the bulbs hanging high above, that he hears the quiet pants, and the tiny snuffles of fear, the sound pricking at his ears and allowing him to zero in on the right hand corner of the room.

He immediately reaches for the knife caught in its sheath on his waistbelt, but its not until the room floods with light and the apparatus he’d been able to make out before is separated from the darkness that he realizes just what was making the sound, and for once in his life Seunghyun is caught in absolute surprise, as he slowly lowers his weapon to his side.

Because there…crouched before him…staring like some wild animal as it trembled in fear…

…was a child.

(T.B.C)

[entergamingxp]

We played Moving Out and learned a lot about teamwork • Eurogamer.net

Moving Out is a game about removals: you turn up in a level with a few friends, grab all the stuff that’s lying around, and try to get it onto the van. Nothing ever goes quite right, of course, which is why it’s a party game and an argument starter as much as it’s a game of tactics and positioning.

To get to the heart of this brilliant experience, Bertie, Chris Tapsell and Donlan all joined up to have a go together. Teamwork! Brilliant. Here’s what they all made of it.

Chris Donlan

Half-way through playing Moving Out with colleagues, I realised I had reverted to the role I generally fill in my large family back home. Basically, I was busy looking busy while everyone else did all the real work. Moving Out is chaotic: one level has the floor rising and sinking as you move tables and beds and fridges across it, another has ghosts and chairs that want to run away once you’ve put them on the van. Somehow, though, out of all this frantic action, everyone manages to reveal their true personalities through the way they play. Chris Tapsell, who is the youngest of the three of us, quickly became the boss, dividing us up into different tasks, streamlining and tutoring us on the best ways to yeet a closet through a window. Bertie became the flair player – delivering moments of athletic brilliance with a lampshade or a microwave that saved the day more than once. And I was at the back, trying to look busy but secretly not doing very much at all. I didn’t feel judged. I felt understood.

(A quick word here about accessibility options. Moving Out is absolutely brilliant in this regard. Dyslexia options, text size, button remapping, level skipping, a meaningful easy mode. More of this stuff in games, please. Everyone should get to enjoy a treat like this.)

Chris Tapsell

Part of growing up is about learning to accept yourself for who you are. I, for example, am extraordinarily bossy – nothing gets me going like a designated, clearly defined role – and this makes games like Moving Out extremely fun for me and I’m sure definitely very fun and not at all stressful or irritating for everyone who plays with me as well.

Some levels in Moving Out require this more than others. You can probably get through the standard house level by just lobbing stuff out the big window as and when, and we did fine on the Frogger-like stage by just hurtling back and forth on our own. In the haunted mansion, though, you will need a designated ghost-slapper (happy to oblige) and an assigned haunted musical instrument-baiter (Donlan: “I’m kiting the piano!”). In the conveyor-belt warehouse you will need to form a chain of operation through separate rooms – like a conveyor belt! I get it – and in the devious Floor is Guava level, you will need Bertie to stop messing around and do his damn job.

This game is very funny, and very good. It’s a nudge away from the multi-tasking, pat your head and rub your stomach brain-twisting Overcooked towards a scrappier, Wipeout-style chaos. It’s probably a bit easier? Maybe? At least it is if you stop to think about it, and if you have a good team with people who do what they’re told. If.

Bertie Purchese

I thought I performed some real clutch plays! I might not have been the one playing dad, Chris Tapsell, but I was quietly doing the business, lobbing boxes or tossing sofas out of windows. It’s not my fault they put a slap button in the game, is it? I was role-playing! Oi oi, not like that, slap!

The best moving person I ever knew of was this old guy up the road from my dad’s house (not Chris Tapsell but my actual dad). He looked like he’d been beaten by the moving trade, all gnarled and bent double, probably by heavy sofas with bed frames inside – I had to move one of these once and it was like lifting an elephant, not that I’ve ever done that. But this guy, he could move anything. Anything.

My dad tells this story of how he was at his wit’s end about how to get a sofa into his house. Even the company which sold him the sofa, and delivered it with two strong young men, was defeated by the situation. Oh no no no, that won’t go in. As luck would have it, though, the gnarled old mover was passing by with his young apprentice, and he saw what was going on, effectively said hold my drink, and five minutes later the beast was in.

Still, I bet he never had to deal with a haunted house where chairs have a mind of their own and bounce around, even out of the moving van if you don’t keep an eye on them. And I bet he never had to hop across floating logs and crocodiles to get his fragile boxes on the truck. But I bet he would have coped. And I bet the possessed grand piano wouldn’t have eaten him.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/02/we-played-moving-out-and-learned-a-lot-about-teamwork-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=we-played-moving-out-and-learned-a-lot-about-teamwork-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net