#The party truly is one big family I will die on this hill

[fumifooms]

… I want to look way too deep into this

I choose to believe that the parallel is intentional. It is beautiful imagery for Marcille to have grown into a reflection of her mother: acceptance and care. I believe that this scene is meant to show how:

1) Marcille is something like a mother figure to Izutsumi, something supported by the relationship chart where Marcille think of her as a “kitten” and how Izutsumi gravitates towards her and is the most comfortable around her, and with their convos of Marcille teaching Izutsumi ways of life etc etc. Marcille enjoys sleeping besides her and giving her cuddles, giving her affection while somewhat taking responsibility for her, she looks after Izutsumi and such. And perhaps Marcille’s general motherly demeanor is what attracts Izutsumi to her in the first place, since we’ve seen that is what Izutsumi craves above all and we’ve never really been given an explanation for the special attachment Izutsumi reserved for her. It’s also notable that Izutsumi has never really had any proper parental figure in her past as well. Everyone in the party acknowledges how Izutsumi seems much younger than them, too.

2) Marcille has somewhat made her peace with people living at a faster pace, not only showcased with the parallel but also with the words she says to Izutsumi: she tells her to take care of herself, says what habits she ought to take up for herself, since she won’t be there to remind her constantly. Throughout the series we see Marcille’s habit of fussing over those she cares about, especially Falin, where she forcibly takes care of them and inspects if they’ve been taking care of themselves, feeling rather overprotective and controlling as we’ve seen with her reaction to “Laios taking Falin away”, feeling highly stressed and outraged that Falin got separated from her and incredibly worried about how Falin was doing during this. Thus, Marcille telling someone to take care of themselves is her entrusting the person with their own health and accepting that she may not be able to hover over them for as long as they live. It is a huge show of growth, even if it seems like such a trivial and small thing at first!

Marcille has always had a caretaker nature and role in many of her relationships (not only in the present but her past with her father), also reflected with how she’s the healer of the party and as such also casually gives everyone caring touches, she has a certain motherly warmth coupled with the bossy and caring strictness often associated with mothers, also being a voice of reason/common sense often times. But I think this scene and parallel was ultimately meant to, as a whole, show how Marcille has grown more mature. Not necessarily less afraid of loss, but ready to accept that she can’t control or protect everything, and thus ready to let go and ready to let people be happy their own way, even if it’s away from her, or short lived from her perspective.

…

BUT ALSO IT MIGHT BE A HINT THAT MARCILLE IS GONNA REFLECT HER MOTHER IN ANOTHER WAY: BY BECOMING AN ADVISOR IN A HUMAN ROYAL COURT YOOOO (#LaiosFreeMarcille #Don’tBreakUpTheBlondTrio)

[piss-pumpkin]

💐Miscommunication and makeup

Older!dipper pines x reader (chapter 2)

~3.7k words

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A/n: I tried hard to avoid gender coding in this chapter, feel free to give me notes idk how I did. Makeup is gender neutral I’ll die on that hill idc

When you woke, it was because of him. A gentle jostling beside you startling you awake. Your eyes were still practically sealed shut, a layer of crust keeping you from opening them. You furrowed your brow as you wiped it away, pressing your eyes tight together.

”Sorry, Y/n,” Dipper whispered. His voice was still hoarse. 

You could only groan in response, rubbing your eyes with such a force that you could see changing colours through the eyelids. As you lifted your head off his shoulder, you immediately felt a pain shoot through your neck.  Perhaps sleeping sitting up with a crooked head was not the most intelligent of ideas. “What time?” you asked groggily.

Dipper stumbled over you to get off the bed, nearly tripping over the edge in the process. Against the odds though, he found his phone. You watched as he tapped the screen, and recoiled slightly from the light.    “Eleven-ish.”

You nodded, and rolled your neck. Whenever it bent to the right you felt an intense cramp. Fun. Still sitting on the bed, head straightened against the headboard now, you looked up at him. “Are you getting up?” you sighed. You weren’t sure you wanted the answer. 

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “May as well.” 

Once again, you groaned. “Ugh, fine,” you said, squinting up at him in an almost sour expression. You rolled along out of bed, standing up with him, stretching. 

You started to walk to the door, and noticed Mabel was absent from her bed, and her sheets and blankets were in a pile at the foot. Messy, the same condition you’d left Dippers. He followed behind you, then branched off to stumble almost blindly into the bathroom while you went to find your toothbrush in your bag. Unfortunately, you’d left that bag in the living room, meaning you’d have to speak to people before you brushed your teeth, washed your face, or even truly woke up. 

There were jumbled voices from the kitchen. People were talking, yes, but it was too early to comprehend the words from another room. 

You followed the noise, and found… Pacifica. Her and Mabel were talking at the table.  

When they saw you, they had the same reaction. “Y/n!” They said, nearly in unison. They looked at each other after, mouths open, acknowledging the telepathy.

Pacifica pointed at you, “Y/n, I told you earlier so you better remember, my birthday party tomorrow.”

You thought a moment, then recalled. June twentieth was her birthday. The date had already past, you just missed it when you came here, but lucky for you the party wasn’t on the actual day. “Yes, of course, how could I forget,” you grumbled.

”Great, I’m reminding you that you’re all invited. And you better come early so I don’t have to talk to my parents friends all night.”

“Pacifica, who do you take us for, I personally would never let such a fate befall you.” It was mostly true. You knew how insufferable her family could be.

Dipper walked in behind you. “Oh, the party, right?” He was still groggy, his voice low from sleep, but he looked a lot more awake then he did moments earlier.

Pacifica laughed, “Yes, that.” She turned back to Mabel for a moment before addressing the room. “Just remember it’s a lot smaller then the big annual party you guys always go to, this one’s at my actual house.” She scoffed at herself, and folded her arms across her chest in something close to shame. “So temper your expectations.”

Of course. She lived in a McMansion rather then a full manor, which was incredibly embarrassing to rich people. So much so, that to hide the shame, her family rented out their old house from McGucket for their bigger parties. 

Dipper smiled, “All your family’s parties are huge, Pacifica.” You rolled you neck, again trying to shake the soreness as they spoke.

Pacifica snickered, “Any party worth going to would look huge to you people.”

Dipper shook his head, a smile on his face.

This was all well and good, but you were still sore and gross. “It’s true Dipper, you have no culture,” you said, walking out to go brush your teeth. You heard a faint agreement from Pacifica as you left.

                                              …

As you came back to the living room, you saw Dipper laying back in the chair. 

Dipper perked you as you entered the room. “Oh, hey, Y/n!” He approached you almost hesitantly, and rubbed the back of his neck, “I was meaning to ask you, uh, wanna go to Pacificas party with me, and like hangout and stuff?”

Your mouth fell slightly open in a smile. Was he serious? He was just going for it? Maybe asking you out? Perhaps? It seemed you were wrong in your assumption that he was a coward, maybe he had more balls then you. He was red in the face and fidgeting anxiously. You started to answer but-

“-A-as, uh, friends, of course”

Fuck. You waved your hand and tried to hide any trace of disappointment from your face. “Yeah, of course!” you smiled, “Who else would be my date, Mabel? You fucking know she’s gonna pick like, six hot guys to pine after… and Pacifica has to talk to all her parents friends for half the night, there’s no saving her from that.” 

Dipper laughed lightly, “hard not to feel bad for both of them.” He ran his fingers through his hair a moment, face still flushed. “A-anyway, I gotta go find Mabel,” he stuttered, “see if she’s… alive.”

You squinted, “alright then, go check that. I’m sure it’s… urgent.” 

Dipper nodded, “very.” With that, he left in a hurry, and started upstairs, nearly running.

                                            …

Mabel was leaving her room, having just finished looking through her bags for a party dress. Turns out she forgot to bring one, unfortunately for her. 

It was when she was at the top of the stairs that she saw her brother, red in the face and speed walking towards her, making vicious eye contact. “Ugh, Dip?” She started, but her Dippers glare silenced her. 

He grabbed her by the sleeve and whispered, “Mabel, I’m going to die.”

”Um,” Mabel said, unimpressed. “Okay.” She let him pull her away from the stairs, out of earshot. Mabel was having a time. She was being led by the sleeve by a quite sweaty Dipper into their room. He sat her down, and sighed. “Okay Mabel,” he started, “what I’m about to say can’t leave this room, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Right away, this was a tad suspicious. “Uh, that’s-“

”Listen man, you gotta,” Dipper said, starting to pace around the room. “You gotta swear not to tell- you know what?” He turned around and pointed at his sister, “swear on Waddles not to tell y/n, okay?”

Mabel’s eyes widened, and her brow lifted into a curious expression. “God damn dude, okay,” she said, holding out her pinkie for him to shake. He took it gladly, clearly satisfied with himself. “I’m intrigued now, what is it?” She tapped her feet on the ground with restless energy as she sat on her bed, and listened to Dipper.

”Mabel,” he rasped, sounding close to death. “I fucked up really bad, Mabel.” He was pacing around the room anxiously. He was walking in a circle at the centre of the room, and retraced the floor so many times Mabel wondered if his footprints would be embedded in it by the days end. “Mabel I think I’m going to die.”

Mabel couldn’t help smile, and laugh a small laugh. “Okay, my dear brother, do you want to elaborate? Take a deep breath or two and tell me why?” She clapped her hands together at her chin, and pointed at him with them. “Or are we just going to be doing this all day?”

Dipper sighed, and wiped his face. He dragged his hands down his cheeks, pulling and contorting his features as he did it. “I asked Y/n to the party thing,” he said, pupils shrunk and eyes wide. He pressed his hands back to his cheeks, and pushed firming inward, putting as much pressure on his face as possible.

Mabel, depose her brothers dread, gasped. “WHAT?” she yelled, kicking her feet faster, and punching the bed at her sides. “How is that a bad-“

”As a friend,” he said, cutting her off.

Mabels face fell, and she but he inside of her cheek. “Don’t get my hopes up like that again, Dip.”

Dipper shook his head, and waved his hands in front of him. “That’s not the worst of it, somehow,” he said, turning away and covering his face. “I was so awkward about it.”

Mabel looked quizzically at him, but stayed quiet to let him speak. 

“I started out trying to just ask them, not specific if as like, my date or not…” Dipper turned around, red in the face to look at Mabel. “And I did, I did do it. I walked up to them and asked them,” he said, shaking his head. 

Mabel still wasn’t sure how he could have fumbled it. She knew her brother wasn’t the most socially intelligent, but it seemed like he was doing well, according to his story. 

“But I backed out,” he said, hanging his head. “As soon as I said it, I got scared, and before they could even respond-“ Dipper took a deep breath, and threw his hands out in front of him, gesturing wildly to Mabel. “-I said just as friends though, and clammed up, and rushed away, embarrassing myself.”

Mabel winced. It appears her brother did fumble it. “Okay, that’s not great,” she started.

”No it is not.” Dipper paced faster, “And I didn’t even get a chance to see how they reacted, I was so in my head I got no data from this either.”

”Bro, don’t call it data,” Mabel sighed “that’s weird. But uh, yeah, that’s kinda cringe of you.” 

Dipper stopped in front of her, “Thanks Mabel, you’re helpful as always.”

Mabel laughed, and laid back in her bed. “Dude, what do I even say to that! I have nothing to contribute to this situation!”

Dipper sighed. “Yeah… neither would I. 

Mabel left that interaction with a smile. She felt the pity, the empathy, and the undeniable urge to make fun of him, which she decided to do at a later date. She still had to find or make a dress for the party, that came first. 

She was thinking about what to do. She did have money, she could buy a dress from the mall and have fun shopping… but at the same time making one could be fun. Or she could borrow one from Pacifica at a way higher quality… 

Mabel was too deep in the maze of these three conflicting thoughts which seemed to baffle her. So deep in thought that she did not notice you, zoning out in the living room. 

“Mabel!” You said, snapping your fingers to get her attention. “Mabel guess what interaction I just had, that I am mentally recovering from.”

Mabel perked right up, stopping in her tracks. She muttered just quiet enough for you to hear, but not understand, “I don’t think I have to guess.”

”What?” You said, leaning forward in the chair to better hear her. 

“What happened, I said,” Mabel lied, coming in closer. She sat down on the arm of the chair. 

“You know Pacificas party, yeah?” You looked up at her, with a tired and exasperated smile. She nodded down at you, wearing a smile of her own. A smirk though, a knowing one. “Well Dipper asked me to go with him, right?” 

You looked over at her, expecting a reaction. Mabel did her best to feign surprise, every bone in her body wanting to go back on her promise to Dipper. She resisted though, and let you tell the story.

”But before I can even say yes and be all smooth about it, he say just as friends. Ugh. Life,” you say, leaning your head back. “Just as friends, what to think of that.”

”Yikes,” Mabel said. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying more.

You took a deep breath, “I guess I should be flattered though, right? Cuz if he asked me as friends, then there’s nobody he wants to go with as more then friends, and I’m his first choice…” you looked over to Mabel, as if seeking confirmation in her big brown eyes. Much to your surprise, they have nothing away. 

Mabel could tell by a look that your mind was racing. 

“Oh god, or maybe he wants to go with me as friends cuz he’s to pussy to ask out somebody else he actually likes.” You whipped your head over to Mabel, your eyes wide with a thought you didn’t believe you were having for the first time. “Wait, do you think he could like Pacifica? Like I know she thinks he’s cute and has like, a thing for him, but… ugh he’d have a huge chance with her…”

Mabel bit her tongue. She did make a promise not to tell… but maybe she could suggest. “What if he likes you, but was too scared to ask you to be his date? Like that’s why he added the whole and friends thing after?”

You thought for a moment. “Hmm,” you thought aloud. “It’s a valid theory, but I’m not sure I like my odds.” 

Mabel sighed, “I think you’re odds are fine, honestly pretty good.”

”I see the possibility, I see the possibility,” you punched Mabel in the arm lightly. “Thanks, uh-“ you stuttered, not knowing if you had to say it. “A word of this to him and you’re dead.”

Mabel sighed, a small smile crossing her lips. “Yeah, I know the drill. Mabel was having a time, best friends with two of the largest idiots she knew.

                                            …

You were headed to Pacificas house, as she offered you free range of her family’s closet for the party. Mabel offered to make clothes with you, or go shopping, but this was easier. And Pacifica was a much busier person then Mabel, and you’d take most opportunities to hangout with her. 

The open road felt good, especially in gravity falls. In a small town like this, the roads were safe and easy, no highways and few mean drivers. Except you, on occasion.

Ford was in the passenger seat, nit picking. “Y/n, you forgot to shoulder check on that turn.”

”I really think that’s not true, actually, you just didn’t see.”

Ford laughed, “you tell the tester that when you go for your N and you’ll fail on the spot.”

You groaned, “Maybe the tester will see how well I shoulder check, and I won’t have to say that.” It was tough life only have a learners license. You were at the mercy of your driving teacher, who was unfortunately not Stan today. You got to break a lot more laws with Stan.

You pulled into Pacificas driveway, met by an impressive McMansion in front of you. It was nowhere near the size of the former Northwest manor, and Pacifica made sure you knew that, but it was still huge. Much larger then your home. Much larger then any home in your neighbourhood, or any other you’d been inside for that matter. 

You got out of the car, and Ford took the drivers seat. “I’d say your driving today was… adequate. It was fine, but you still need a lot of work.”

”I’ll take adequate, that’s still a win” you said, making a W with your hands as you walked backwards away.

”Well no, it’s a D+ grade,” Ford replied, “but I guess that’s a pass these days.” With that, he waved, and shut the door. With a wave back, you turned around to face the home.

The door had a fancy knocker, but you knew if Pacifica knew you thought that was cool, she’d say her old house had giant double doors. She was practically in love with one upping herself. You hit the knocker twice before trying the knob. It was of course, locked. Even though she was expecting you, she still had rich parents.

You heard a lock click, and then there she was. “Heyyy,” you said, stepping inside. You kicked off your shoes, and the floor was cold on your feet. 

“Heyyyy,” she said back. Her hair was pushed back in a thick and poofy hair band. “Come on, let’s have a fucking makeover montage,” she laughed, leading you to her room. Despite her claiming this was a poor person house, you had to ascend large and grand stairs in the foyer to get there.

As you got to Pacificas room, you went to flip down on her bed. Incredibly soft. “What do you mean makeover, I thought I was just getting clothes?”

Pacifica chuckled, and stared to open her walk-in closet, looking at shoes. “I thought that too, but then I had a second thought-“

”That’s impressive, for you,” you cut in.

”Ha, Ha,” she laughed sarcastically. “You say that like you’re any better.” She poked her head out of the closet to sneer at you, and you sneered back happily. “But I was thinking, why stop at clothes?” 

You sighed, and got up to follow her to the closet. “Well alright, what are you thinking then?” you asked, knowing whatever she had planned was inevitable. 

She beamed at you, “The full kit, colour matching, accessories, shoes, makeup, styling… if you want that is…” she trailed off at the end, but her eyes still held hope. As much as it seemed like a lot, why say no? What was the fun in that? 

“Alright, I’m game,” you nodded. As you did, Pacifica practically jumped. “I’m kinda indecisive though, so you lead?”

Pacifica nodded eagerly, “of course.” She bounded over to the clothing wracks and began to rifle through. “You have no idea how fun this will be for me, I love planning outfits for parties.”

”Consider this an extra birthday gift then, I guess. Go wild, I’ll wear whatever.” You followed her, and gazed at the array of fabrics.

She snickered, “in that case, I’ll even do a makeup look for you, all original…ish.” She was still staring at the clothes, looking up at them pondering. “For starters, are we thinking dress or suit, because I have both and both would look hot on you.”

That was a question you had to think very hard about.

As the night went on, she had you try shoes, jewels, and specifically colours to find the perfect combinations. And plus, it was incredibly nice to spend so much time with her, catching up and resuming your friendship after the school-year gap. She was still her. Still a little snobbish, but well meaning, and quite endearing. And for reasons unknown, Pacifica was good  like at this, and when she was done with the clothing and you looked in the mirror, you struggled to think of a time you looked better and it felt this natural. 

“Alright, now that that’s sorted,” Pacifica said, several hours after you started, “Makeup, if you’re still down.

You yawned, it was getting late. “Yeah, alright. Can I stay over?” 

Pacifica laughed, “need you ask? Of course!” 

“Alright, I’ll wash my face and text my aunt,” you said, going to her bathroom. She had some very high end looking facial cleansers. Your aunt Susan was very okay with it, the laid back woman she was. You made sure to thank her. You texted Dip too, letting him know you won’t be able to read with him… if he was even up. You didn’t linger on the phone long enough to see if he was.

Coming back, you were sat on her fancy couch, the kind with one armrest and wood carved legs. She sat at the vanity, looking through her makeup and hair products. “Alright… are you going to do the makeup now, and then again tomorrow for the party?”

”Yeah, I wouldn’t make you sleep in it.” She walked over with a handful of hair things and face things, too many for you to identify any individually. “Same with your hair. Think of today like the trial run, and tomorrow I’ll iron out any kinks… and probably get my makeup artist to do it for you.”

”You have a makeup artist?” you asked as she started to pick though what to do first.

”Yeah, I have to look professional, represent the family, you know.”

”The why get so good at doing it yourself?” She was already applying things to your face, and you didn’t question her methods.

”So I know what I want and what to ask for,” she said. “Like for you, I’ll take a picture of it and just show her, and she’ll do it better.”

You nodded instinctively.

”Hey, hold still!” Pacifica hissed. “I almost smudged shit.”

You hummed a quiet “Mmmhmm, sorry,” tiredly. The best part was when she did your eyeliner, because you got to close your eyes.

When she finished, you looked stunning. You couldn’t rub your eyes, but it was worth it. Pacifica made a few notes on what she did, and took a picture of your face. “Alright, we’re free. I’ll get you some makeup remover.”

”Mmm, thanks you.”

You laid your head back, and shook out the styling from your hair. It had some glitter in it, which fell on the sheets of Pacificas bed. You’d sweep that up later. 

Pacifica came back to find your head on one of her pillows. “Hey, don’t fall asleep yet, don’t get crusty.” 

“Fine,” you muttered. No crusty for you, and you had to be at the best for the party. You laughed to yourself. The best for a bunch of rich people, and your just as friends date. Tomorrow night was set to be interesting, at least. 

Next chapter

Hope I didn’t fem code the reader. Anyway. Pacifica is fun to write for me, I like to put her in whenever I can, even if as a character it’s likely she’d be pretty busy.

[deactivated-almonds]

Witness to the Dawn

July 7th - Birthday Beers The moon is waning, the hunt is over. For now. The Sheriff of North Kill County tries his hardest to unwind. A stranger rides into town on a cool breeze. 

My first ever published fanfiction exploring the interpersonal relationships of the Hackett family, with special attention paid to our dear Sheriff, Travis. I delve into brotherly love, toxic families, trauma, and grief, as well as the consequences of being an unwilling party in a horror narrative.  

 Angst \ Slow-burn Romance \ Pre-canon \ Blood and Gore    

Chapter 1: Night Cap  

There’s something special about summer nights. Magical even. The way the heat of the day sinks into the soil, into the pavement, as the cool veil of night drags itself across the sky. The air takes on a sweetness you can almost taste, the heady smell of fresh cut hay mixing with the astringent tang of pine needles. The sun sets and the love songs of crickets and peepers rise to an indistinguishable harmony. Almost on cue, their game of call and response creates a white noise that permeates into all the empty spaces of the inky black night. A light breeze, the sound of distant windchimes, fireflies twinkling like stars. July is pure magic. 

She takes her time driving to her destination. She drinks in the night, driving slowly, no cars behind her and no one to catch up to. No one for miles it seems. This particular night is thick with nostalgia, like all the summer nights of her youth pressed into one glass of water. North Kill reminds her so much of home, albeit more rural. More conifers, less light pollution. She could see herself living here. Although she felt the same way about a lot of places she’s lived. At least at first.

Nothing seems to stick for her. She’d been content with a transient life for a while. A year here, six months there, and then onto the next town, state, job, life. Meeting new people, getting along well, leaving, and never hearing from them again. It doesn’t hurt though, that type of loss. She’s learned to believe in the temporary nature of things. All things. People, especially, seem come and go through her life like through a revolving door. They move on to greener pastures. Hell, sometimes they die. Everybody has to do it eventually, right? Just because something is temporary doesn’t mean it’s not important. Or special. This night will not last forever, but it is special. Magical even.  

North Kill is technically a village. Which, she believes, is just about as small as a community can be. Her curiosity compelled her to look up why every other town in upstate New York has “Kill” in the name. Apparently, it’s Dutch for “creek” or “river”. Who knew? The Dutch most likely, and the locals. With a simple query the ominous became ordinary, and just like that, the edge of implied danger was whisked away, and an image of tulips and windmills took its place.

Physically being out here though, it’s easy to imagine that this was once the great frontier. The wild west before anyone knew just how big this country truly was. This place is already vast and wild even in the modern age, even in a state housing one of the first and most industrialized cities in the world. How could anyone have conceived of what else was out there? They still have no idea. Most people don’t know what’s in their own backyards. In their crawlspaces, attics, or between the walls of their homes. Or in that space just outside of your peripheral vision.

But, for now, her full attention is on the road, keeping dutiful watch for the familiar glint of critters’ eyes in headlights. She doesn’t have to squint too hard though. The road is bathed in the light of a big, waning gibbous. The trees reflect its light in shades of blue, dark and cool, the vibrancy of verdant summer foliage asleep to the world.

In stark contrast, the lights of a town emerge over the crest of a hill, like a pale yellow dawn. Her night cruise comes to an end as she makes the slow crawl into civilization, speed limit: 25mph. “Strictly Enforced”. North Kill proper isn’t much to write home about. She’s been in plenty of towns like this; a long main street filled with the all the major small-town attractions. Grocery store, gas station, convenience store, police station, garage. Although there are a surprising amount of community centers and mom-and-pop style boutiques. The obligate “First Name’s” Diner. This time, it says Hank’s.  

The whole place has probably fewer than a dozen side streets. One leads to a collection of public schools it seems, another into a network of suburbs a little way off. It looks clean. Neat. Safe. Not rundown like most of the former coal towns just a few hours south. She shouldn’t be surprised though, it was voted “Village of the Year 2020”, after all. But right now, she’s looking for a bar.

There are a few people out and about. It’s a Tuesday, approaching midnight. Two women walk down the street, linked arm in arm and laughing as they walk toward their car. It’s a good sign when women feel comfortable on the streets at night. As she approaches the edge of town, she spots her destination.

Rumrunner’s is a stout, single story box, its slanted roof held up by a row of log house-style columns, great raw trunks with the knobby remnants of thick branches. A row of Edison bulb string lights reflects their soft yellow glow on the tinted glass of the front windows. The building is a curious aesthetic mashup of old west saloon, hunting lodge, and 20s speakeasy. By no means a dive, but not too hip to alienate anyone. Its reasonably busy for a Tuesday, some patrons have elected to sit on the wide front patio, obviously enjoying the night air just as much as she. She pulls into the surprisingly generous parking lot and can’t help but notice how the patio patrons stare at her unfamiliar vehicle, a jet black ’67 Chevy Impala. She reckoned this was more of a lifted truck kind of town. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Her sturdy old Cherokee would have garnered less attention, but she was on vacation after all. This is the type of car people drive on vacations, perfect for summer cruisin’ and not much else.

She exits her car and checks and double checks her doors are locked. Music spills out past the establishment’s closed double doors, some folksy song she can’t quite make out. The porch patrons watch her as she passes, a group of forty-something year old men and women, probably work friends. As she approaches the doors, she can make out through the glass a man coming toward her, both hands occupied by foaming pints of beer. She opens the door as wide as she can for him and he gives her a surprised look, like she snuck up on him, a grateful smile, and a sheepish “thanks!”, all in that order.

“Hey, no problem brother,” she throws back quickly. The rush of air from the bar blows her hair back and the smell of beer and cigarettes is familiar and welcome. While nothing compared to the sweet smell of the summer night, another wave of nostalgia crashes over her yet again. The smell of her mother’s favorite coat, saturated with a pack a day of Marlboro reds, memories of hours spent in a bowling alley arcade with her little brother, when she was young enough to think beer absolutely must taste just wonderful if adults guzzle it down like they do. Learning the hard way that even though it looks like cream soda it is not, in fact, anything at all like cream soda.  

The bar layout is simple and surprisingly spacious. Center isle leading to the long bar spanning the back wall, tables down either side, plush booths lining the walls. Small backroom with pool tables, couple of restrooms down a short hallway. Classic. It’s the kind of place where every surface is made of wood, giving anyone paying attention a silent history of a thriving local logging industry. The din of the crowd inside is low and tolerable as she makes her way to sit at the bar. Men’s laughter rises above the drone of voices every now and then, jovial and hearty. Glasses clink and lighters flick to life as old spent cigarettes are ground to death in their ashtrays. The ambiance is stereotypical enough it almost doesn’t seem real. Like every detail was meticulously plucked from a distant happy memory, or a bar scene from someone’s favorite sitcom. Feels homey.

She hops up onto a tall burgundy leather bar stool, the act always being a bit less graceful than she would like. The counter is thickly lacquered and only slightly sticky, as all good bars ought to be. She elected to sit on the rightmost side of the bar, bordered on either side by two empty seats. Close enough to her fellow patrons to appear friendly, but far enough away to give herself some space. Sitting to her left are a few groups of people, some aging good ol’ boys, a group of mixed college age friends, two older ladies. Salt of the earth types. Some of them give her a cursory glance, mostly the men, but for the most part she is largely ignored. Or so she thinks.

People in this town are accustomed to tourists, especially in the summer. Hikers come for a day or two to do the local trails, the Hackett trail being the longest. Takes about six hours to do a full circuit. She looked it up before she came here. There’s also Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp, a little way north of the town proper. Or village, rather. The camp is apparently a pretty big deal; families come from all over the east coast and beyond to be rid of their kids for two months. Probably have plenty of parents in town after drop-off day, enjoying the natural splendor, and more likely, their newfound privacy. It’s good to know a stranger is not entirely unwelcome here.    

The bartender is a tall, well-built man in his mid-thirties, sporting a salt and pepper version of a ginger beard. He has his work cut out for him tonight, pouring beers, shaking hands, making jokes, mixing fancier drinks for the two older ladies. He is earning his tips tonight. He gently pats on the bar top in front of her, “I’ll be with you in just one moment miss,” as he rushes to the other end to return a patron’s credit card.  

“You be careful walking home Sammy,” he calls to the patron dismounting from his seat. “Watch out for them bears now!”

Sammy, red-faced and stout, adjusts his trucker hat and swats the air more so than waves as he turns from the bar, “Ain’t no damn bears out there boy,” and just like that, makes his unceremonious exit.  

The bartender throws his head back with a small chuckle and shakes his head. Finally, he makes his way to his newest thirsty patron. “I’m sorry for the wait darlin’, what can I get you?” His accent is that special, north of the Mason-Dixon kind of country twang. Trans-Atlantic but for the dropped syllables and soft vowels.

She gives him a nice wide smile. She knows this language all too well. “No problem. Busy for a Tuesday, huh?” He agrees with an exasperated sigh. “Got any good lagers?”

“You bet. We got Bud, Pabst, Yuengling-”, he begins to list but is cut off by her piqued expression of excitement.

“I could kill for a Yuengling right about now,” she says, almost longingly.

“Well it won’t cost all that. Bottle all right? You wanna open a tab tonight darlin’?”  

“Bottle is just fine and no sir, not tonight. I got some driving to do yet.” She fishes out her wallet from her back pocket and retrieves a ten for the bartender, “keep the change.”

He tucks it into a front pocket of his apron, “Responsible, I like it!” He is definitely earning his tips tonight. He ducks under the bar and opens one of several small beer fridges, “Ah hell, I’ll be right back with that miss.” Not finding what he was looking for up front, he breaks into a little shuffling jog and disappears behind a swinging aluminum door, likely leading to the back storage or kitchen area.

She rests her head in one hand, letting her tiredness show. A placid smile plastered on her face, daydreaming about the crisp, cold lager coming her way. The perfect night cap. She zones out, staring at one of the two TV’s mounted high behind the bar, displaying the most recent MLB highlights. Being lulled further to sleep reading their poorly generated subtitles, she yawns into one hand and allows herself a cramped little stretch, giving her back a slight twist from side to side, taking the opportunity to get a better look at her surroundings. A twist to the left and she sees the rest of the bar, patrons chatting and laughing, girls at the jukebox. A twist to her right and…

Two men are sat in a booth directly across from her. Burgundy leather, just like her barstool, thick glass table protector, wet with condensation from sweating beer bottles. One of the men is telling the other a very animated story, or maybe a joke. His hands gesticulating in front of him, attempting and failing it seems to conjure something from memory. He wears a tan short-sleeved button-down shirt, littered with patches. A park ranger maybe?  

There is no doubt about the occupation of the second man. His all-black uniform is clean, albeit a bit wrinkled, his tie hangs slightly loosened around his neck. A gold star gleams on his chest. His hands are preoccupied, idly rotating a near-empty bottle of beer, leaning heavily onto his elbows. He’s not paying much attention to his friend. He is starting straight at her.      

She locks onto his dark eyes immediately. If she were of a more squirrelly disposition she may have jumped out of her skin, turning to find a cop staring her down like that. Instead, she finds herself almost stuck in time, the weight of his stare pulling her attention to him like a moon in orbit. She has a fleeting thought that there is something animalistic happening here. If you are ever unlucky enough to meet a predator face to face, you should never, ever look away. Eye contact is a challenge, but it is also a declaration of power. If you break it, even for an instant, you relinquish that power. You become prey. This man exudes a certain aura of power, through his uniform alone, but his face tells a different story. His expression is neutral rather than outright aggressive, and almost…curious. Or maybe suspicious.

This impromptu battle of wills comes to an end just as abruptly as it started when the man in the tan shirt snaps his fingers in the cop’s face. “T!”, followed by another rapid succession of snaps, “What the hell man? I’m talkin’ to you.” The officer jumps ever so slightly, his once hooded eyes now wide in a mixed expression of surprise and annoyance as he breaks eye contact to turn toward his friend. She allows herself the smallest grin, a little bit more confident about her place in the natural order. She watches their interaction out of the corner of her eye. The officer bats the other man’s hand out of his face, and after a moment, the two lean in close to one another and proceed to bicker in hushed tones. Fingers are pointed and subsequentially swatted away, the cop is annoyed, and the other man is chuckling. Teasing.

The woman returns her full attention behind the bar, as her chipper bartender finally returns with her drink, cracking it open with practiced ease. “I am so sorry about the wait, I had to go diggin’ in the cooler. I try to never disappoint a pretty lady.” He delivers this last line with an excruciating lack of suave. She elects to ignore it.

She takes the bottle from him and makes a tipping gesture, “Thanks much,” she says with a wink. “Sláinte!” The first sip is like a healing tonic, revitalizing and soothing all at once.  

The bartender stands in front of her still, twiddling a dish rag between his fingers, suddenly much less concerned for his other numerous customers. She gives him a quizzical look and leans in close, motioning for him to come closer. He complies to the unspoken command with a little too much eagerness. “Who are those two fellas over there, three o’ clock? The cop and the other guy.” She jerks her head gently in the direction of the two men.  

The bartender glances over discreetly, a sly grin cracking across his face as he repositions himself at the bar, shifting his back toward the two men. “Those are the Hackett brothers. Two of ‘em anyway,” he says in a hushed tone, like he was letting her in on some juicy gossip.

His mischievous energy is infectious, and she can’t help but smile and whisper back, “Are we talkin’ like…Hackett’s Quarry Hacketts?”

“Yes ma’am, the very same. Travis is the Sheriff. Chris is his younger brother. Runs the kids’ camp out at the lake,” he says, looking very pleased with himself.  

She leans in ever so slightly closer, “I caught your Sheriff there staring at me just now-” she begins but is cut off by an abrupt, barking laugh from the bartender.

“Shoot! I bet you did. Guy’s a real weirdo. I mean, we all appreciate him, don’t get me wrong,” he says, putting his hands out in front of him defensively, “He’s good at his job and all…but I think he takes the ‘hardass cop’ schtick a little too seriously.” His tone is still low, but significantly less conspiratorial than before.

She affords the brothers another quick glance over her shoulder. They still seem to be bickering, although a little less heated than before. She could kick herself for not recognizing the familial bond, punchy and playful, only disguised as serious aggression. The younger one, Chris, glances over at her and she quickly returns her attention to the bartender. “How much of a hardass can he be, drinking in uniform?” She asks playfully.

“Ah that,” he says, “We don’t really give a shit about that in the first place. North Kill’s too small for anyone to care,” he says, idly straightening glasses behind the bar. “And besides, it’s his birthday after all.”  

A sly grin spreads across her face at this new information. “Is it now?” She bites her lower lip and contemplates her next move. It’s risky, and frankly, a bit cliché. “What’s he drinking over there?”  

He swings his head in their direction, peering for a moment before turning back to her. “Budweiser. Typical old man beer,” he said with a dismissive shrug.

She promptly pulled out her wallet again, laying a twenty on the counter this time. “Send him another one on me? Tell him I said, ‘Happy Birthday Sheriff’,” she said coyly, taking another long swig of her own drink.

He gave her a very confused look, cocking his head to the side. He put his hand over the bill hesitantly, slowly sliding it toward himself, “Are you sure? The dude’s like, fifty-something.” His disapproval is apparent.

She throws him a pitying smile and a reassuring nod, “Positive. Keep the change.”  

He pursed his lips and quipped, “Hey, whatever you say, high roller,” and added a, “whatever floats your boat I guess,” under his breath as he snatched up the clandestine bottle from below the bar. She took another long pull of her own beer and pretended not to notice as the bartender sauntered over to the Hackett brothers’ booth. She continued to ignore the trio until she distinctly heard the bartender say, “courtesy of that young lady over there,” she turned in time to see him lazily point her way.

The Sheriff looked like a deer in headlights as she gave him a casual wave from her perch at the bar. It was a wonder how someone could be frantic and stoic at the same time, but the Sheriff seemed to manage it just fine. He returned a solemn nod in her direction and was promptly smacked on the arm by his brother. She turned away in an attempt to hide her laugh. And to spare him some dignity. She could still clearly hear him say, “Travis what the fuck is wrong is wrong with you? Go. Talk. To. Her.” He said it through gritted teeth, only half joking now.

“Hey,” the Sheriff said, pointing sternly at his brother like one would scold a dog, or a child, “That’s assaulting a police officer-”

“Get your ass over there!” Chris interrupted. Emphasis on “ass” followed by what looked like a small kick under the table.

The Sheriff put his hands up defensively in the universal sign of surrender. “All right. All right! Goddamnit…” he shuffled out of his seat, hands still raised to either side of his head. “You happy?”

“That’s my boy!” Chris clapped like a character out of a cheesy 90s movie. The Sheriff just shook his head as he took one last look at his brother, straightened his belt, smoothed one hand over his shirt, picked up his fresh new beer, and turned toward the bar. As he approached her at the bar, he tipped said bottle in her direction.

“Sheriff,” she returned the ubiquitous gesture.

“Ma’am,” he gave her a jerky little two finger salute. Or perhaps it was a tip of his hat, had he actually been wearing one. He stood beside her, one elbow propped on the bar. She still had to look up at him, even sitting high as she was. He was taller than he looked sitting down, though everybody typically is. “I appreciate the birthday gift,” he continued. He spoke out of the right side of his mouth as he talked, lips pulled into an expression that was either a sarcastic grin or a pained grimace. Which one precisely, she could not tell.

She gave him a good once-over before opening her mouth again. She couldn’t deny she thought he was handsome, in a…unique sort of way. Strong jawline, gently aquiline nose. He had a nice solid frame, likely quite lean in his younger years. Eyes so brown they were practically black and a head full of thick, black hair, nary a gray in sight. She could see it stuck up at odd angles in the back when he lowered his gaze toward the bottle in his hands, pursing his lips and nodding to himself. Considering something. It lent him a boyish quality, in spite of his apparent age. Five o’clock shadow and heavy eyebags. This was a world-weary man and it showed.

“Wasn’t my intention to cause you so much trouble,” she said with a breathy laugh, tilting her head to peer over his shoulder at Chris, who was shamelessly watching the ordeal unfold like a kid at the movies. He followed her gaze back to his brother and swiftly turned away, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Ah, he’d have crawled up my ass about something either way.”  

She shook her head sympathetically, “Tsk. And on your birthday too.” She beamed up at him, and she could see the corners of his mouth twitch upward, ever so lightly. “I’m Nora,” she said, extending her hand to him.

He looked down at her awaiting hand, then back up at her face. He transferred his beer into his left hand and wiped the condensation from his right palm on his shirt. He took her hand, firmly, but not too tight, and gave it a gentle shake. Her hand was small in his, but her grip was solid and sincere. “Travis.”      

Yeah. She could see herself living here.   

Chapter 2 available on my AO3!! 

[carinyms]

I've scrolled through a lot of discourse on episode 4 of Loki and I need to talk about it

(good lord its a whole essay im sorry)

I gave myself a headache from crying while watching this. (I joined the Loki fandom post-IW so I’ve never had to see him die before while emotionally invested and boy!!! Is it doing things to my fragile psyche!!). But now I’m rehydrated and more stable and ready to party so let’s go

Right off the bat, I loved this episode — loved it loved it loved it. Silly, manic in-shock Loki is gone and shit is getting real. My thought while watching this was truly “wow this is my favorite episode so far” and damn am I in a minority with this opinion lol.

So here’s my perspective on some of the discourse flying around, and just general thoughts

On the whole ‘Narcissist’ thing:

IMO, Mobius saying this means nothing: he’s mad and he’s spouted lies at Loki to push his buttons before (see: every interaction they’ve had since episode 1).

Loki saying this to Sif-- well, Loki is and always has been an unreliable narrator on himself. The major theme of this show is that he doesn’t really know who he is, deep down, and he’s trying to figure it out. The TVA is taking advantage of this, and even though he’s trying to stay above it all throughout the series, he's still in a really impressionable spot and absorbing what others tell him about himself. (not to mention this scene is literal torture and he’s already proven that he’ll say whatever he needs to to get out of it.)

But he does admit one true thing when he says “It’s because I’m scared of being alone.” (And like wow okay same don’t mind my tears) but here’s a big brain idea!

Sif pulls him up and says ‘You are alone, and you always will be’, which is like, WOW that’s cruel after what he said, but it makes me ask wonder: Sif is sentient in this scene, but obviously it’s not really her. Who’s controlling her? And why is it so important for them to make sure Loki thinks he’s alone? I’d go as far as to wager that Sif never even said this to Loki, the big bad made this up. (he admits he forgot about this ever happening, I doubt he’d remember what she said.)

I think the nexus event on Lamentis that caused the branch was two Loki’s joining sides. Or, Loki no longer being alone. Loki insists while talking to Mobius that “she’s not my partner!” but she was, and they were partners from the moment they grabbed hands on Lamentis — right when the timeline broke off. I think Loki variants teaming up is the biggest threat to whoever is pulling the strings here — that’s why the post-credit scene is so significant. (Is Loki the only person who has multiple variants of himself who've escaped the TVA?)

And here’s where I’m gonna get salty--so I apologize but i need to rant about this-- but it’s seriously pissing me off that so many people are intentionally reading this as Loki/Sylvie and then being mad about it when that’s clearly not what’s happening and why is everyone acting like Mobius with one angry jealous brain cell and no critical thinking about the context of the characters.

If people ship it that’s chill, but for the people who are against it—it’s clearly supposed to be platonic, and it’s so upsetting that in the year of our lord 2021 we still can’t have a man and woman hold hands without people saying it’s proof they want to f*ck each other, like what in the misogyny??? STOP. This show was written by a bi woman and Tom the-most-emotionally-sensitive-man-on-this-planet Hiddleston — let them display an intimate loving friendship goddammit. This isn’t romance, this is Loki learning how to admit he cares for someone who cares for him in return — something he hasn’t experienced a whole lot of and clearly doesn’t know how to navigate.

(You have permission to personally come at me if it actually turns out to be romantic by the end of the show—but as of right now I will die on this hill.)

Him putting his hands on her shoulders to me was a clear indication he wanted to hug her, and I’d like to think he would have told her he cares about her, and that they can figure it out together. Because these are two characters who’ve never had anyone else to rely on and trust, and for the first time they’re not alone.

And I have to think about what prompted this from Loki. He just lost Mobius the moment after he called him friend. The way I see it, he’s just realized the true gravity of what they’re up against, and Loki is suddenly very afraid of losing Sylvie too before he tells her cares about her, of dying truly alone because he never told anyone what they meant to him. (Don’t think about this in the context of him also having watched his entire family die knowing he never told Frigga or Thor how much he loved them either don’t think about it—) He’s realized, finally, that he has doesn’t have to be alone, that he can choose to be close to people and have friends. And god it’s so heartbreaking that he never got to hug her or have that moment with her. I really hope they get that in the end. I hope he gets it with Mobius. I hope they have a group hug. I'm upset again.

Okay, deep breath, ANYWAY.

Hopefully this didn’t come off as attacking anyone else’s opinions.

Personally, I love this character so much, I’m just so happy to be seeing him in his own storyline that they can’t go wrong here. Objectively I think the production is amazing, and personally I love they way Loki’s character has been explored so far. (Yea yea, was I HOPING that the bad-memory loop would morph into Sanctuary and Thanos and like a full exploration of his true worst memories? Yes but let’s be honest my whump needs will never be met in canon and I have to accept that lol.)

Honestly I left all my own meta about this character at the door when the series started, because for me the opinions I’ve formed from the hundreds of (amazing) fics and meta I’ve read on this character and what’s true in canon are basically inseparable at this point, and no portrayal is going to live up to the way Loki exists in my head. Canon Loki and fic Loki are two different characters and I can enjoy both at the same time :) I’ve just loved seeing the character get given the different dimensions he deserves, and written by people who care about his story.

Also, it’s not over! If he was dead and this was it I’d be very upset, but this is the rock bottom of the storyline, and I think the whole next two episodes will be the build back up. I trust it’s gonna be worth it. SO hyped for flaming sword Loki. I would die for Sylvie, but I’m excited to see him on his own again.

My current most pressing questions are:

-what was the fallout of Sylvie’s bombing the timeline? (Have we seen that yet, am I just dumb and missing something?)

-Obviously, who’s behind it all? (Kang? Is there a head honcho Very Evil Loki at the top?)

-How much does Ravonna actually know, and to what extent is she just a pawn too? She asked Sylvie to prune her— she’s probably also been duped here.

-Is everything we learned about the sacred timeline BS? How much of what the TVA workers believe is real?

-my favorite theory so far is that the war of the timelines miss minutes talks about hasn’t actually happened yet, maybe making setting that into motion is the true endgame, leading into Multiverse of Madness?

(Side note: holy HELL im so excited for this soundtrack to drop on Spotify. It’s SO AMAZING I had CHILLS in the end credits.)

Open invitation to discuss anything with me if you feel inclined! :)

[duchesschameleon]

codependent idiots

an ajf playlist for @winterscaptain

hello tali! and everyone else reading this.

music is something incredibly important to me, as a musician and as someone who hates existing in silence. I always need something in the background. so, what better way to celebrate 100 ajf fics than with a playlist? tali, I am so incredibly proud of you for 100 ajf fics and so honored to have been part of the journey. and to be your friend. seeing the hard work that goes into this universe and how much you love it is just incredible. I cannot wait for what comes next and to see you continue to create and grow this universe that I love so, so much. you are amazing and wonderful and I love you to bits and pieces darling.

so without further ado, here’s the playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0RpXkdEbsdMqX6l5daBdaL?si=bae62e4556674c84

These songs make me think of ajf or just fit the universe - it’s not about one specific moment or one specific relationship, it’s ajf as whole. So I’ve included a little explanation for each song, considering there isn’t a cohesive sound.

paper rings - taylor swift

this one is pretty self explanatory. it’s a song about loving someone so much you don’t care how, when, or why you marry them. considering meraki, I think we can all agree this fits.

I will follow you into the dark - death cab for cutie

this is a song that screams going to the end of the line for someone. and we’ve seen time and time again (and I’ve referenced it in many a commentary) that aaron & mom lean on each other for everything. they are so reliant on each other for everything and I feel like this song captures it. 

be my baby - the ronettes 

another classic love song. and just the right amount of sweetness for aaron & mom I think. their love, to me, is a deep and everlasting love that endures and as we’ve seen in the fic, is filled with sweet moments between each other. and there’s a lot in this song about knowing you love someone from the start.

can’t keep on loving you from a distance - elliot yamin

this fits into berry hill/mean it ajf I think. it’s the yearning guys. it’s the not being able to love someone from afar anymore and wanting to do something about it. yeah I threw in a little angst, but this is one of my favorite songs. it’s good and it fits. it’s a crossroads.

die a happy man - thomas rhett

pretty self explanatory, listen to the lyrics. it's all about needing just the love of the person you love the most in this world. that is aaron and mom to a t. 

unforgettable - thomas rhett

okay an upbeat song! this one is not forgetting any detail from when you met the person you love. again, aaron and mom. also it’s one of my favorite thomas rhett songs. it’s about inevitability, knowing that you’ve found your person, and not forgetting a single thing about them. 

this will be (an everlasting love) - natalie cole

aaron always gives me classic song vibes, he likes the oldies and what he was raised on. this song is...it is happiness personified. it is happiness and joy in a song and you cannot convince me it wasn’t played at the wedding. 

make a life, not a living - brett kissel

okay so first off: brett kissel is an amazing canadian country artist whom I love dearly. this is his newest song and it was released just in time for this. this ENCAPSULATES ajf for me - this aaron that allows himself to live and love again, to have this happiness and joy. it’s all about making a life, and making a good one. this is ajf for me. 

between you and me - brett kissel

and this one is for all the 18+/nsfw moments. listen to the song and it's pretty self-explanatory. 

at last - etta james

it took them like 6 years (? I think) to get together and another 2.5 to get married. someone played this at the wedding and you cannot convince me otherwise. again, it goes to inevitability and how everyone was waiting for this to happen. we knew it was gonna happen, it was just a matter of when. so when it does happen, everyone’s screaming “AT LAST!”

kiss me - ed sheeran

okay this album came out in 2011, mean it happened in 2011...it fits. and this song screams mean it to me. that’s really all I have to say

give me love - ed sheeran

same reasoning as kiss me. I just couldn’t decide which one fit more. but they both work.

growin’ up - bruce springsteen

this song is less mom & aaron and more ajf in general. it’s rebellion and doing what you want - hello bau - and it’s just a great song about learning and growing up and doing things your way. also it’s me, there had to be springsteen on here somewhere

mary’s place - bruce springsteen

run with me on this one: you’re driving in the car with your family, people you love, and this song comes on. you can’t help but smile and sing along and it is happiness personified. this one is all about the vibes, not the lyrics or meaning of the song. this to me is a bit of a party starter and something that could play at every bau party. familiar faces, laughter, gathering people together….this is all about having a good time with people you love. 

we take care of our own - bruce springsteen

last springsteen song I promise. this one is similar to above, it’s all about a family and being there for one another. looking out for your own, looking out for each other. 

some day one day - queen

this is a great soft, sweet song talking about hope for mom & aaron. much like this is early in queen’s discography, it fits into the early years of ajf. 

you’re my best friend - queen

self explanatory. they are codependent, they rely on each other so much, they are best friends and lovers. it fits so well. and this song will always put a smile on my face.

another one bites the dust - queen

another unsub bites the dust because the bau is great at their jobs. and, this screams hotchner’s dancing around the kitchen or the living room. they seem like the kind of family to dance around and film each other for….no ulterior motive whatsoever (/sarcasm)

my wish - rascal flatts 

so this fits for the wedding vows BUT ALSO - during enough when aaron is thinking about how he’ll fit into reader’s life. he just wants them to have a good life, to find happiness. that is his wish for them. 

danger zone - kenny loggins

we all know the hotchner’s love top gun. they absolutely, unabashedly love this song and blast it for a dance party. 

landslide - fleetwood mac

maybe it’s because we sang this at my camp as a last night campfire song, but I can see this being a song sung to the littles to get them to settle down. the lyrics might not make total sense but it’s a bit of a vibe. 

this is it - scotty mccreery

it’s a great love song and I love it. it gives me ajf vibes for many reasons and many moments in the series

not alone - mcfly

OH ITS TIME FOR MY MCFLY SOAPBOX. mcfly is a band that yes, I mostly know because of the close geography of the internet and early 2010s british youtubers. they are a big band in the uk and they were in an early 2000s movie called just my luck with chris pine and lindsay lohan. I love the movie, I love mcfly. seriously, they are one of my favorite bands ever. not alone is a great song and one I think can be the background for many ajf scenes. and yes this is about to start a few mcfly songs on the playlist

I wanna hold you - mcfly

it’s just about being close and wanting to hold the person you love. how many times during ajf do we see mom & aaron with a hand on each other and reaching for one another? 

it’s all about you - mcfly

I tend to find this is the most well known mcfly song. it was written for one of the band members’ wife and it’s so good. and yes, again, it encapsulates the love aaron and mom have.

being alive - company

I kinda had the realization that this song screams aaron to me. that for so long he fought against his feelings and was almost content with being alone, with not having anyone. he sort of holds himself at arms length, like bobby does throughout company. and then at some point, there’s a switch. and he realizes that being alone is not the same as being alive and he wants to have someone to hold and someone to be alive with. and that’s what this song is about. 

louder than words - tick, tick, boom

there are so many times where aaron and mom just look at each other. they use their actions, their body language, and their eyes to communicate and forgo words. they don’t need words. and it’s not just with one another. it’s with jack and the littles and the whole team. actions truly do speak louder than words in this universe. 

always will - bright star 

it’s a mean it & mistletoe song. “we’re supposed to be/together it’s true/I’ve had my doubts/but not about you.” these lyrics SCREAM ajf and this is one of my favorite songs from bright star - WHICH IS AN UNDERRATED MUSICAL.

dirty little secret - all american rejects

okay so it’s never a dirty secret, but this fits in during the mean it arc. they’re so secretive and sneaking around. we needed one unhinged song here okay???

the power of love - huey lewis & the news

this is a song that fits the relationship, but is also something that could play in the hotchner house and get everyone singing and jamming. or could be played at dinner at uncle dave’s house to get everyone up and dancing on the flagstones.

sharp dressed man - zz top

it’s aaron hotchner. also, this is a song I can see aaron making his kids listen to (yes my dad made me listen to this a lot growing up)

I want to hold your hand - the beatles

yes we need a beatles song on here and yes this is one that always makes me think of ajf. there’s always some way people are touching - linking pinkies, holding hands, a finger through a belt loop, hands on the top of someone’s chair - touch and contact are important here so yes this is the requisite beatles song.

the heart never lies - mcfly

one more mcfly song. just listen to the lyrics and you’ll know why it’s one of my favorites. for as long as these two fought their feelings and denied them, the heart never lies. and their eyes can give it away.

[amydancepants-peralta]

89, 91 or 98 please if you're taking prompts!! i can't decide !!!🥵🕊🕊

Me neither haha!  So ... here’s all three. 😅👶🏻💖

(89: “Mondays are your diaper days”, 91: “Oooh... someone’s got a tummy ache and 98: “I think we should have another.”)

i think our story needs more pages

There’s an unmissable smile of contentment on Jake Peralta’s face as he wipes down the last section of the kitchen bench, softly humming the theme song to Transformers while he rinses the washcloth under the tap.  (The original, of course - the remakes all have their merits but when it comes to theme songs, nothing beats the classic version, and that is the hill he will die on.)  

Not so long ago, a perfect day for him would have undoubtedly involved some sort of high-speed chase (or diffusing a hostage situation … or jumping from an exploding chopper with a knife between his teeth … he’s not fussy when it comes to the details, really) - but after spending the majority of today at their nephew Aaron’s third birthday party, he finds himself completely unable to hide the sheer joy that is thrumming through his veins.

He knows that he could attribute a certain portion of his great mood to the lasting effect of that second slice of ice-cream cake he’d had mere hours ago (or the light-up keyring he won during pass the parcel), but it all really came down all of the sweet moments in-between: standing in the shaded sun, surrounded by family, and watching as his son played with all of his cousins.  

It’s the kind of life that once upon a time would have seemed totally implausible, but now was absolutely his reality, and just the mere thought of a thousand more days like it put Jake on an all-time natural high.  

It has been fifteen months since the birth of their son, a child born of liquid fire that went by the name of Mac.  Fifteen months of diaper changes, screaming fits and mashed food everywhere.  And also; fifteen months of the softest of cuddles, impossibly tiny hands wrapping themselves around his fingers, and the deepest of brown eyes that took in everything imaginable.  He misses sleep (oh, how he misses real, uninterrupted SLEEP), but if that was the tradeoff for having a miniature version of him and Amy taking wobbly steps around their apartment, Jake would do it all again in a nanosecond.  

He had no idea how powerful the sound Dada would be, but the first time he heard it on his son’s lips, he straight-up cried.  And … maybe again when Mama followed shortly after.  Now, Mac’s vocabulary has expanded to five whole words (including Wowo, which both he and Amy are 90% certain stands for Aunty RoRo, and have agreed that it’s best for everyone if Charles just simply doesn’t know), and both parents couldn’t be prouder if they tried. 

There’s been an idea in the back of his mind for a few months now, one that has grown all the more after today’s festivities, and after pouring both he and his wife a half glass of wine each Jake makes his way over to the living room, still unable to wipe the smile off of his face when he takes in the scene in front of him.

Mac lay stretched out on the couch, his tiny duck printed pyjama shirt riding high and exposing his belly button as he rests his head on Amy’s lap.  Fast asleep, his eyes remain closed as Amy’s fingers run gently through his hair, his tiny chest rising and up down in even breaths.  It’s a sight Jake’s seen a hundred times before, but one that he never truly gets enough of, and after quietly placing the wine glasses on a nearby table he reaches out to tug Mac’s shirt a little lower.  

“I think someone’s got a tummy ache,” Amy whispers, mirroring Jake’s responding pout as he settles down on the couch, their sleeping son in between them.  “He only had the smallest taste of the cake .. but I guess when combined with the excitement of the day and all the dancing he did, the poor little guy is just completely wiped.”

(Mac’s ‘dancing’ was really just an unsteady yet adorable bouncing in place, both feet planted to the floor as his arms flail about to whatever music just happens to be playing, and the similarities between that and some of Amy’s dance moves have not gone unnoticed.)

Jake furrows his brow in response, instinctively reaching out to run a soothing hand over his son’s stomach.  “He’s all Mac’d out.”  He’d watched from the rear view mirror on the drive home as the gentle bumps of the road lulled Mac to sleep, his tiny curls squished along the edges of the carseat he was buckled into.  His (at times, endless) energy had been renewed by the time Amy had carried him up the stairs, the sneakers that Uncle Charles had given him making high-pitched squeaks as he’d run with tiny toddler steps around their apartment (the contents of which by now were entirely child-proof) for the rest of the afternoon.  

It was exhausting chasing after a toddler, but also strangely exhilarating, and watching Amy settle onto Mac’s play mat and help him with his building blocks as Jake had began to prepare dinner had just felt so right, it was hard to imagine what their afternoons used to be like pre-child.  

With his fingertip gently tracing the outline of one of the ducks on his son’s pyjama set, Jake watches as Amy uses her free hand to take a sip from her wine glass before speaking.

“I think we should have another.”  

His eyes squeeze shut as soon as he’s blurted it out, twisting his mouth into a wince.  There were a thousand different ways he could have phrased it (and lord knows he’s practised a few versions in the past few weeks), but nooo.  Great work as always, Peralta.

Amy’s head is cocked slightly to the side when he opens his eyes again, and she gestures vaguely at the glass.  “Another wine?  I’ve only just started this one.”

“Oh.  Ahh, no - sorry.  Ugh.  That was my terribly unsubtle way of saying that I’ve been thinking that maybe … we should try and have another baby.”

Raising her eyebrows, Amy’s hand stills amongst their son’s curly hair, and after a (thankfully brief) pause, she replies.  “You do?”

Jake can feel a soft smile begin to grow on his face, and he nods.  “Yeah, I do.”  Lifting his hand so that he can run his fingers ever so lightly along the bridge of Mac’s nose, he gives Amy a half shrug.  “I mean … I’ve watched you with your brothers over the years, and it’s just amazing the kind of bond all of you have.”  Mac’s eyelids begin to flutter, and Jake pulls his hand away before he accidentally wakes him.  “Even when you hate them with a passion, you still love them, and there’s just some things that you intrinsically know about each other without any prompting.  It’s the kind of closeness that can’t ever be replicated, and I would just really love to give Mac that kind of childhood.”

Amy smiles at the thought, giving Jake a tiny nod of encouragement to continue.

“I know that I had Gina a lot of the time, but at some point she would go home to her family, and then it was just me and my mom … and don’t get me wrong, that was great, but there were definitely times when I had wished that I could have had somebody to hang out with.  Especially when my mom started working two jobs and I saw her less and less.  TV and cake did an okay job raising me, but I do sometimes wonder … what if.”

With her nods growing bigger, Amy glances down at Mac.  “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking the same thing.”

Jake’s heart skips a beat, and he leans forward slightly.  As much as he might want to try and expand their family, it all really came to do Amy, and how she felt about it.  He’s never pressured her into anything, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now.  “You have?”

“Yeah.  Been thinking about it a lot, actually.  My family was loud growing up, but it was also kind of great.”

They grin at each other over their son’s sleeping form.  Maybe, this was actually going to happen.  

Mac wriggles in his sleep, his sock-covered feet stretching out slightly and nudging against Jake’s thigh, and Jake lifts them up to rest on his lap as he shuffles a little closer to Amy.  “This morning, when I picked him up out of his crib, he just had the biggest, gummiest smile on his face, and then he hugged me like there was no tomorrow and I just … it’s only the best feeling and … well, you know.”

“I do.  That little Mama! that I heard this morning?  I wish I had recorded it, it sounded so sweet.  He’s just the cutest.”

“Exactly!”  Jake reaches his left hand out, resting it on the portion of Amy’s leg that hasn’t been occupied by their sleeping son.  “And honestly, I just keep getting this image in my head of a mini Amy walking around; with tiny little binders tucked under her arm and the same gorgeous eyes as her mother, learning so quickly whenever her big brother shows her how to do something.  Can’t you see it, Ames?”

Laughing, Amy shakes her head.  “She wouldn’t have binders, Jake” and he nods because obviously a toddler wouldn’t have a binder, but then she continues.  “She’d have a notepad.  Binders are serious business.  You gotta work your way up to them.”

“Right, of course.  My mistake, babe.”

Covering his hand with her own, Amy links slides her fingers in between Jake’s and rests them there.  “It does scare me a little, though.”

Picking up on the sudden softness of his wife’s voice, Jake looks over carefully.  “Having another baby?”

She nods, a tentative smile lifting the edges of her lips for a mere second before falling.  “Yeah.  I mean … it wasn’t exactly easy last time.  What if next time, it’s even harder?  Or it just … doesn’t work?”

Jake’s eyes fall back down to their son, this miniature version of both of them had wished so hard for.  Amy was right - it hadn’t been easy last time, and there honestly weren’t any guarantees that it was going to be any better the second time around.  It’s one of the main reasons why it had taken him so long to talk to her about it.  But as he feels her fingers gently shift against his own, Jake realises the most simplest of truths, and looks back up at his wife.

“I know that this is probably going to go against all of your instincts, but when it comes to this I think we just kind of need to let fate play it’s hand.  We can only try, you know?  If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”  Shifting his weight, he rests his shoulder against hers.  “We’re a family, no matter what.  Whether there’s three of us, or four, or five.  We can get through anything, Ames.  If there is anything the past ten years have taught us, it’s that.”

The side of Amy’s head rests against his, and he feels her nod.  “I love you, Jake Peralta.”

Squeezing their fingers, Jake cranes his neck marginally to the left to leave a kiss against Amy’s hairline.  “I love you too, Ames.”

From below them, Mac rolls onto his side; one hand curling into Amy’s sweater, and both of them seperate slightly to watch him sleep.

Taking another tiny sip from her glass, Amy sighs happily.  “You know … if we do this, we’d really need to look into moving somewhere bigger.”  Her eyes wander over the room, eventually landing on a framed photo of the three of them that had been taken five months ago.  “Maybe even buying something, if we were really careful with our finances.”

Jake’s smile grows impossibly bigger, and briefly he wonders if he’s going to have sore cheeks tomorrow from all of it.  “Honestly?  That sounds kinda amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I mean …” Jake pauses, sliding his right hand along the back of his neck in a move that his wife has long since called ‘The Dropping of Peralta’s Guard’, feeling one side of his mouth slide up ever so slightly as he turns his attention back to Amy.  “I love this apartment, and living in the city, but … the only thing I’ve ever really owned is your heart.  And that beat up Mustang I had for a while there, but money-wise that was mainly on loan, so … yeah.  Just you.”  His hands raise quickly, showing his palms in surrender.  “Not that I own you or anything, because that’s ridiculous, I just meant that you totally own mine and that’s - mmff” the rest of his sentence is muffled, the press of Amy’s lips against his stealing the last fragments of thought, and by instinct his arms wrap tightly around her waist, as best as he can with Mac still resting on their laps.    

Amy’s smiling as she pulls away, her hand sliding down his cheek until she’s resting her thumb in the tiny dimple at the bottom that he’d always hated until the love of his life made it a favourite, and honestly, how she makes his heart flutter even after all this time is just pure magic.

“I know what you meant, babe, and I love you for saying it.  You absolutely own my heart … well, you and Mister Mac do, anyway.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  

Sliding his right hand further up his wife’s back, Jake pulls in her for another kiss.  He would happily share the space with Mac, and any other children that they might end up having, for the rest of his life (and maybe a hundred or so more years after that).  Toying with the ends of her hair as they part, Jake’s shoulders rise in a tiny shrug.  “Honestly, falling in love with you is the best investment I’ve ever made.  But the thought of actually buying a house with you, and turning it into a home that our kids will grow up in?  A backyard filled with toys and swing sets and maybe even a cat or two?  It sounds like the greatest idea ever.”

“And maybe a park nearby, where we can teach our kids to ride a bike?”

“Plus a basketball hoop over the garage door - because their Dad can dunk, and he’s totally going to show them how.  Not to mention a study lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, all of them filled to the brim.”

Amy’s eyes begin to glisten slightly, and she leans in to rest both of her hands on Jake’s forearm.  “Don’t forget the front porch for us to sit on when we’re older, rocking in our chairs and stealing all of the other kid’s frisbees when they land on our lawn.”

“Of course!  We’re going to be the COOLEST house in the neighbourhood, with the dopest Halloween decorations.  Acting purely as a distraction, naturally, while we carry out whatever version of the heist we’re up to by then.”

Raising her chin slightly, Amy’s eyes turn suddenly serious.  “Your mind is going to be blown when you realise what I already have planned for then, Peralta.”

“Yet another reason to have a second baby!  One on each team!”

One of Amy’s eyebrows raises coyly, and she whispers “That’s what you think” as she leans in for another kiss, shortened by the soft laughter that falls from Jake’s mouth.  

“I really do love you, Ames.  Pre-emptive plotting for my children to heist against me and all.”

She giggles, and Mac lets out a tiny grumble as he begins to wake.  Scooting his butt to the edge of the couch, Jake slides his hand along his son’s back, holding him warm against his chest and tightening his grip as Mac nuzzles into his neck, still half asleep.  “Okay, time to take this party animal to bed.  Say goodnight, mommy!”

Raising herself up until she’s kneeling into the couch cushions, Amy leans in to press a kiss against Mac’s cheek, replicating the action on Jake’s as she pulls away.  “Goodnight, my sweet prince.  And babe, I think a diaper change might be in order.”

Wrinkling his nose, Jake nods.  “Yeah, I agree.”

“Want me to do it?”

“Nah.  Mondays are your diaper days, Sundays are mine.  I’ve got this.  You sit back and relax, and have a look at our schedules for when we can book a babysitter so that we can … practice.”

Resting her weight back down on her heels, Amy sinks her teeth into her lower lip.  “You know I’m a big believer in practice makes perfect, Peralta.”

“Indeed I do, Santiago.”  Lifting up one of Mac’s arms to mimic a tiny wave, Jake heads slowly towards Mac’s bedroom, intent on getting him changed and into bed with minimal disruption.  

(There ends up only being one tiny meltdown, but it’s nothing that a combined goodnight hug from both Mommy and Daddy can’t fix.)

*

In fifteen years time, there will be a house in Brooklyn - just outside the city centre, so close enough for the daily commute - that has contained so much love within its four walls that it has long since seeped into its foundation.

There will be a doorframe near the kitchen, marked with a variety of ascending lines drawn in marker, catalogued by both name and year as they rise.  A myriad of photos and commendations will line the walls (in no particular order, a fact that is made very clear), and the memories of each captured moment will last long after the images have faded.  

It will be their home - the Peralta-Santiago fortress against the rest of the world - and although life will forever throw curve balls their way, if there’s anything their children know for sure it’s that as a family, they’re always going to be there for each other.  No matter what. 

(Also, that Wario cheats.) 

[floralkittygambler]

Is it a sin to request a SCP 999 moodboard? I’m stupidly amused by such an adorable creature. SCPs are phasing into my life in such a manner that- Golly, it’s a blumming fest. I’m actually enjoying these bizarre things. I’m a sucker for creativity, and Im truly won over by supernatural anomalies in a series than aren’t all humanoid/creatures, but also items, objects, sentient objects, microorganisms, consumables, machinery - Im genuinely in love with such creativity <333 I’m in love with series that can be serious and playful, yet somehow it never feels *wrong* either. Silent Hill is my all time adoration! And the team were such lovely folks with not a bad bone in their bodies. The love and commitment, yet an openness despite the dismal nature of their tales always led to very real and human moments. Love between the team. They were family. Silent Hill is truly how I envision my own personal hell - this touchable yet distant ‘reality’ that makes or breaks you. It’s all a test of will. Then there’s a fucking UFO and drunk Japanese people singing piss takes of their own characters. SCP is already infecting my being - there’s fucking weed as a joke SCP to fit with the times it was first big. Yet there’s these creatures and you never know who wants you dead and who wants a cuppa tea and I love it.  Granted, I’d fu-ckin die there. If it’s not my sympathy or stupidity, it’s my poor eye contact and love of shit like masks (seriously SCP 035 wouldnt NEED manipulation - I adore masks, even follow an Etsy seller who has collections of various Venice masks <3 I’d love to go to one of their parties some day...) All in all, horror is home <3 (Kinda, I mean I’d definitely sleep over with SCP 999 but the rest would make a casket of me lol)

[prongsmydeer]

Ayesha Liveblogs Class Action Park

“Gene was effectively kicked off of Wall street. So he did what anybody in this situation would do... buy up two ski resorts in Vernon, New Jersey.” That’s how I deal with all my career-related angst 

“Gene turned to his old buddy Bob Brennan, always there to find cash or investors any time Gene had a wild new idea” bdjdjjfkdbf find u a friend like Bob, I guess?

“Who we got? How about these teenage employees” oh NOOO

If your employer makes you call him Uncle maybe that’s a warning sign 

Gene giving his teen employees $100 every time he puts their lives in unparalleled danger has a similar energy as my dad giving me $5 when I was sad but 150 million times worse 

You know, if they had advertised the slide as a slide that could bite you like a shark, they might’ve been able to play off the teeth thing in their stride (in any case Slidey McBitey did not slow them down?)

“You couldn’t go down the canonball loop if you were too small, you couldn’t go down if you were too big” the Goldilocks of Dangerous Water Park Features

The way that everyone in this documentary says ‘water’ as ‘worder’ is very Jersey

I mean it absolutely doesn’t surprise me that there were no engineers involved in this but wow that’s a choice

The animations in this documentary in place of stock footage are truly on another level:

The accompanying dialogue to these images: People who Six Flags or Disney wanted nothing to do with; these guys would literally track Gene down at amusement industry conventions. You can tell these guys went and did bumps of coke and went just [unintelligentible] fuckin’ let’s just drill a slide right in the fuckin’ middle of the mountain and it’ll shoot ‘em 20 feet in the fuckin’ air--

“It was not fit for a safe ride by the average person in public” you don’t say, Bob Krauhlik, Head Lifeguard

I mean those like... bubbles for people to roll around in exist? Why couldn’t Gene have invested money in developing those in the seventies and just had people go down a very slight hill? Must EVERYTHING in this park be a deathtrap

The fact the Ball Man (presumably) survived the ride collapse, the freeway, and falling into a swamp,,, invincible

“We started sending employees off of [the airborne slide]” These guys really needed a union

“He’s gone on to lead a normal life” jhfkjhkjf the disclaimer

Honestly a built-in bidet/lota situation in a water slide doesn’t sound bad

Gene fulfilling my lifelong dream to get to lay on the baggage rollers at an airport

“The Aqua Skoot was also home to a thriving bee nest” I hope the bees were okay!!

“You’re probably concussed, and you have like a hundred and fifty people from New Jersey just being like ‘Pussy! You fuckin’ bitch!” this sounds in line with everything I know about New Jersey

“No lifeguard every blew a whistle and was like, ‘Hey stop chanting the word ‘pussy’ at this injured, bleeding person’“ I would pay money to see any lifeguard I know say that

Bob Krauhlik said: The first rule of Action Park is we don’t talk about our suppressed traumatic memories of Action Park

“Just literally imagine teenagers you know right now opening an amusement park” As someone who knows MANY teenagers this scenario sounds terrifying

“I was a good girl, so I wasn’t really involved in much of the shenanigans that took place” if u say so Faith

“I may have attended one [party]” HA I knew it 

This cattleprod story reminds me in a horrible way of a Paris Metro authority memory but long story short people will try to attack you physically if they think u cheated a $3 ticket; capitalism warps the brain

“But if we’re so bad, why don’t they just make a new town?” I’ve never heard a whiter sentence in my life

“He was a cool dude” [cut to] “I think he was a piece of shit” POETIC CINEMA

Gene annoying the state of New Jersey into relinquishing their land... incredible 

“Gene was free from the pesky state of New Jersey” is that what it says on the sign when you cross state lines into Pennsylvania 

“It might’ve attracted a more, say, working class clientele” ah the water park class divide

I don’t know what kind of mindset for just bodily-functioning all over the pool but I hope I never reach that point 

You really should need a sobriety test to operate anything motorized I think they could’ve made thousands on a Go-Kart breathalyzer

“It had a top speed of over 60 miles an hour, it was worth it” said Ed the Park Operations Manager, about driving a go-kart on the highway

“Action Park had full-on, Miami Vice-grade speed boats, where riders regularly tempted fate by treating them like bumper boats, a common action, that would send many a guest tumbling into a pond murky from leaked gas and oil, and known by employees to be infested with snakes” Somehow that sentence got worse and worse with time

The guy who literally crushed another person with his boat and then moved to the next ride: I pretend I did not do it

“He wound up getting getting ejected from the park” they said, about a person literally attempting to set other patrons on fire:

Bob the Lifeguard really speaks with way too much fondness in his voice of trying to throw carts on top of people sliding down a fibreglass and concrete slide

“On an an average day, you would have 50 to 100 people injured” the 80s were a lawless time 

“Gene Mulvihill had a vision of a place where there were no rules - something between Ayn Rand and Lord of the Flies” strike that this is the whitest sentence I’ve ever heard

HAHAHAHA I can’t believe the lawyer is now explaining Action Park with the argument that the 80s were a lawless time

“[D*nald Tr*mp] realized it was too wild, too nuts even for him” kjghkgjhkg this comment aged poorly 

The audacity of this man to blatantly exhaust everyone into submission

Kayaks did nothing to deserve being associated with electrocuting water park attendees 

Every time I think this documentary can’t get worse they introduce a new concept like The Death Zone at the Grave Pool 

“They expected to drown at the Action Park Wave Pool“ DID THEY, BOB? DID THEY REALLY?

“Nobody should ever be the second person to die in a wave pool, you know why? ‘Cause after the first person dies in a wave pool, close the fuckin’ wave pool!” Chris the Comedian has summed up this entire documentary in two sentences 

This documentary has intentionally saved the worst for last this whole interview with the family of the (first) deceased is deeply upsetting 

The Wave Pool death happened a week before the Kayak death??? THEY DIDN’T EVEN CLOSE FOR A WEEK???????

“Its time came and went” IS THERE EVER A TIME FOR A WATERPARK WHICH KILLS MULTIPLE PEOPLE 

Weird that the woman whom Gene got fired from her job and who deposed him became his friend

“Was he a villain or a victor” I think that’s a false dichotomy you can be victorious at villainy 

“The spirit of Action Park lives on today in the Fyre Festival” Correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t remember Fyre Fest killing anyone

“Fyre Festival’s bullshit, man. Gene gave you everything he fuckin’ promised you” grievous injury???

There’s also something weirdly poetic about the name of the park going back and forth from Mountain Creek to Action Park and vice versa every few years 

I’m gonna leave off with this not: Not a single visible minority was interviewed for this documentary as a park attendee or employee and while that’s probably more a product of selection bias and New Jersey it’s also all the argument you need for diversity in any field. Diversity of thought and culture does not a loop-de-loop-death trap make 

[neverleaveyoubehind]

Teen Wolf : 1x01 “Wolf Moon”

OMG they look so young! This whole episode has made me feel so old, I can’t believe that it’s been 9 years since this aired. I still remember watching this after middle school and now, it’s been almost a decade, I’m in college , I’m a full adult, unbelievable!

Let’s proceed with the actual reaction, though.

The first scene it’s surprisingly good, I mean, the way it starts all somber with the creepy music, you see all the police department and the Sheriff arriving to the woods, all the police dogs barking , the fog ,... I really liked it. Actually, I had forgotten about this scene in particular.

Like, we actually get to see the Sheriff a little bit, in my mind we weren’t introduced to the Sheriff until later in the episode. That was cool, knowing that he’s the first important character we see (even though you need to be paying a lot of attention to see that it’s him, because they just focus on showing his arm or something like that )

Suddenly, the music changes into an upbeat song, and we are in Scotts house. (God, seeing Scott fixing the Lacrosse stick gave me ALL the nostalgic feelings I could handle) Tyler Posey looks so young, like a little baby, he changes so much during the years. Not like Dylan who looks exactly the same but , with longer hair 9 years later.

Anyway, we have baby Scott (that’s how I will be referring to him for the next 2 seasons aprox) working out , being teenagery , brushing his teeth (his sink worried me a bit, maybe they should think about investing in a new one ‘cause that one looks nasty) Then, he hears a noise and freaks out. BTW, Scotts hair is a whole situation, it’s way too long for such a small face.

He freaks out, gets out of the house with a baseball bat,which might have been the highlight of my day (also,the baseball bat as a deathly weapon was Scott’s idea first ,ladies and gentlemen, let’s take that into consideration) and we are finally introduced to Stiles.

What better way to introduce him than having him hanging for his first 2 minutes on screen? (he being completely unfazed by it, and carrying the conversation like nothing was wrong, is my favorite thing in the world and the reason why I love Stiles so much) if this whole scene isn’t the reason why everyone kept watching the pilot, Idk what to tell you.

Ok, then, after the best interaction ever, Stiles has somewhat convinced Scott to go look for the body in the woods. Because, yes people, there’s a body , this body is missing a half and Stiles wants to find it. Like, of course he does, this man thinks he’s a detective or something (And yes, I did say a half because we don’t know which part is missing) So, in what has to be the most teenager/peer pressure way (reluctantly following your best friend trough the woods with a murderer on the loose) our story begins.

We have Stiles and Scott walking around trying to find the body (every sentence that leaves Dylan's mouth during this episode is gold, that's really my opinion) Scotty is worried about the prospect of founding not only the body but, the murderer, Stiles is living his best life, joking around, walking way too fast for our asthmatic baby Scott, and that's how they get separated.

We properly meet one of the best characters of the show, the sheriff Stilinski, after Stiles gets scared by another deputy that thinks he’s the murderer, and Stiles leaves with his dad. So, now we have us a baby Scott walking alone, in the dark, back home.

He’s walking for a bit, with creppy background music and various animal noises (the music and the ambiance of this show are great. Props to the music team, honestly) Then, he reaches a clearing in the middle of the forest, takes out his inhaler, and when he is about to use it, a bunch of deer bump into him causing him to fall to the ground and drop the inhaler. (I bet he was more worried about dying crushed by deer than losing it, though) When the deer have gone their merry way,and he no longer thinks he’s going to die, he gets up and starts looking for the inhaler with the light of his cell phone (with the light of the screen to be precise. Scotty isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed), but he doesn’t find his inhaler, he finds... The body (the upper part, in case someone was wondering)

Then, Scotty jumps back from the scare, and falls down a hill. When he gets up, a huge black monster attacks him and baby Scott gets bitten!

(The CGI of the first season is truly horrifying but, don’t panic my friends, it will get better)

Baby Scott runs as good as he can manage ,after being bitten by an unknown huge thing and having lost his inhaler,through the woods until he reaches the road, where he is almost hit by a car (our homeboy Scotty is having a really bad night)

SPOILER

The fact that he gets almost run over by Allison and her mom , who aren’t even in the show yet is amazing. Jeff did truly love this 2 because their storyline is truly wonderful, their whole relationship is handled with such care and a lot of attention to details. It makes my heart soft.

SPOILER

They go to school, Jackson looks like an asshole and turns out to be an asshole, normal High School shit. Scotty shows Stiles his bandage and tells him that a wolf bit him, then Stiles proceeds to laugh his ass off because there hasn’t been wolfs in California in like 60 years (Stiles is the kind of person that knows that type of thing) and , baby Scott tells him that he found the body.

Then this whole hilarious scene happens:

They go to class and Scotty starts hearing a phone ringing and turns out he’s the only one hearing it (obviously dude, you’re a werewolf) because it’s the phone of a new girl that’s outside of the High School waiting for the headmaster (I guess, I though someone else was but maybe that hasn’t happened,yet) this new girl is talking on the phone with her mom and she realizes that she forgot to bring a pen (really? You forget to bring a pen to your first day of High School? Someone wasn’t prepared)

So the headmaster brings the new girl to Scotty’s class , her name is Allison, and baby Scott has a crush on her the second he sees her (puppy love has never been more fitting )

Then, he does that whole thing of giving her a pen that she didn’t ask for (if I was Allison I’d be creeped out that someone just gave me a pen after I said outside of the building that I didn’t have one but, IDK, maybe it’s just me)

Anyway, Lydia and Allison become BFFs ,they have Lacrosse practice (we hear the Lacrosse background music for the first time) and surprise, Baby Scott didn’t suck (we also meet Coach aka the most important person of Beacon Hills high school) After school Stiles and Scott go back to the wood to look for the body and the inhaler (seriously, do this kids never learn?) while Stiles jokes about Scotty being a werewolf,and Derek Hale makes his first appearance (God Derek looks like Edward Cullen in this episode) he gives Scott his inhaler back and tells them to get out of his property (like an old man)

Stiles tells Scotty that almost all of Derek’s family died in a fire in his house and baby Scott leaves to go to work. He goes to feed the cats and they freak out, Allison comes to the vet hysterical with a dog she run over , this cutie moment happens :

Baby Scott is in love, so he asks her out to Lydia’s party that friday, Allison is also in love so she says yes. Scotty goes to sleep feeling on cloud nine and wakes up in the middle of the woods (it was a full moon the night before) he sees the big monster that attacked him the other night starts running and ends up falling in someone’s pool (Baby Scott is way to ripped for an asthmatic little kid but, ok)

He goes to school , Jackson interrogates him about steroids (fuck off Jackson, no one likes you. Well, maybe Lydia, but that’s it) Scotty freaks out about sleepwalking 40 miles into the woods, they go to Lacrosse practice and Scotty makes first line so he’s going to be playing in their first Lacrosse game of the year ,Stiles is suspicious because Scott was awful at Lacrosse like 2 days ago , and suddenly he’s a pro (like he should be, honestly, people should listen to Stiles more)

Stiles goes home researches a freaking ton about lycanthropy and werewolfs and decides that yes, his best friend is a werewolf (just like that, that was his first option and he stuck to it) he calls Scotty, tells him that he should cancel his date with Allison just in case he tries to kill her but Scott ignores him.

Melissa and baby Scott have a nice mother-son moment before his first ever date (with a lot more mentions of teenage pregnancies and underage sex for what one would expect from a first date)

Baby Scott takes Allison to the party, everything is going great, until it isn’t. Suddenly Scott starts feeling the bloodlust and the changes that Stiles had warned him about, so he leaves the party (leaving Allison alone without as mush as an apology, and without a way to get back home) Do not fear, though. Derek offers to take her home so everything’s great.

Scotty goes home while having a whole freak out and tells Stiles (who has followed him because he’s the best friend anyone could ever have) that Derek is the werewolf that bit him. Stiles tells Scotty that Derek took Allison home, Baby Scott leaves to have a fucking argument with Derek, and Stiles goes to Allison’s house (Allison was just fine so Stiles leaves)

Scotty and Derek get attacked by werewolf hunters (needless to say, Scotty won’t be sleeping in a while)

In the morning Stiles picks him up from the woods. At school Scotty apologizes to Allison, she forgives him because they are in love (or stupid , if I had been left like that in the first date I wouldn’t have forgiven him) and we are introduced to Allison’s dad

Wait, did I say Allison’s dad? I meant the werewolf hunter that tried to kill him the night before.

Wow that was a roller coaster of emotions ! What did you guys think? Did you remember all of what actually happens ? Did you also realize that you’ve been mixing what happens in each season together into one big season? Because I did

[comfeyworks]

Alastor writing/ Character ref sheet

NOTE: This is MY interpretation/ notes of my characterization of Alastor. Most is speculation and the other parts are just me having fun imagining what his character could be like. This is no way meant to be official or taken as cannon in any way.

A wonderful user by the name of dolly moon complied a lot of information from Viv’s streams. I’m referencing some of the information here so please check them out, they did a fantastic job making notes.

Warning: Contains talk about murder, cannibalism and other possible triggering subjects.

General

---NAME: Alastor--- Died: 1933 Age: 30′s Occupation: Former radio host and serial killer. Currently powerful overlord in hell

Main Personality/ notes

Always smiling (He sees people frowning as weak)

Sadistic

Charming and charismatic

Very proud( puffed out chest, arms behind back)

He's controlling/ does things his own way

Careful! He's not too braggy, or too forceful/ demanding. Ex: Viv stated in her qna that the pilot was originally going to have Alastor boast about himself and his backstory. Instead vaggie narrates his backstory. She changed this because Alastor wasn’t the type of person to flaunt his achievements. He knows that everyone knows how powerful he is, he’s not the type to rub it in. He's supposed to be charming, but still proud, juuuust in the right way

He knows what he wants, but doesn’t necessarily brute-forces his way to get it. Ex: "He-" "-llo!" He KNOWS he's getting in hotel regardless, but waits for Charlie to open up the door before invading the hallway.

Deceitful; When asked why he wants to help out at the hotel, he says: "Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!" 'This is what you can think my reason is...' is essentially what he's saying. He answers Charlie’s question in a roundabout way that givers her what she wants to know while still keeping his true intentions secret. Time and time again, he lets his mask down slightly when Charlie isn’t looking. At 24:10 he narrows his eyes when she has her back turned to him At the beginning of his song he distracts her with magic so he can push Vaggie away. When he says “...And it’s just laughable-” during he reprise he turns away from Charlie to say this, he leans down to Vaggie.

He’s a hypocrite (hates being touched, invades other’s personal space)

Watches people do things the hard way and then reveal he can do it once it's done just to watch people fuck up

DELIGHTS in watching people failing/ struggling to do things. He likes observing people/ sinners as they are battling with their conflicted emotions.

He’s curious (He stopped by the ‘radio shack’ place to see what Charlie was talking about on the broadcast, and cocked his head when she started singing. To me that meant, “Oh? What’s this now? Something new?” he was intrigued and wanted to know more)

He analyzes people. He looks at the Magne family portrait when left alone. You can briefly hear him playing Charlie’s “Inside of every demon is a rainbow” song, and smiling.

He picks up on things quickly. Vaggie makes it clear she doesn’t like the idea of him being there, and he messes with her. He puts his elbow on her and pushes her away ( 20:44-20:48) He pulls her chin up and tells her to ‘smile’

He’s egotistical. No one is really ‘up to his level’

He gives verbal and physical affection constantly throughout the pilot, but it’s not genuine.

Likes being unpredictable

Primary drive:   Decisions are weighed in his own wants/ feelings. He wants to be amused, he chases exciting/ entertaining things. Think of him as like a cat chasing a mouse.

Fears: He doesn’t fear anyone. But is wary of powerful threats. He dislikes dogs Physical Expression: He’s VERY, VERY expressive through his body language and eyes. Large/ easy to read emotions can be perceived through his body language (Leaning towards someone, or leaning away). Smaller/ pinpoint emotions can be read through his eyes and type of smile (Wide eyes, squinted, closed vs open smile, etc.) He’s like a bird, fluffing out his feathers constantly. (He fixes his hair briefly at 24:41) He expresses himself proudly. ‘This is who I am, remember that!!’. Viv said the reason why almost all of characters have nicknames is that a soul’s real name is dangerous, its a way others can have power over you. Yet Alastor uses his first name, because he’s not scared and confident in who he is as a person. He doesn’t hide from any aspect of himself. I’ve stated he hates being touched by others. When he picks up Nifty in the pilot, she poofs out and spreads her limbs out. At 25:41, Alastor turns his head away from her briefly so she doesn’t touch him.

Flaws/ Weaknesses:

(Note: Basically anything already stated can be a problem depending on the situation, I’m just saying things about his character that he’d find weak or naturally cause problems)

His mother, he’d do anything for her.

He has a darker/ more powerful demon side to him where he runs purely on instinct/ primitive emotions.

He’s arrogant. This can cause problems!

---

Killer/ moral compass profile (Living)

Motivations:

Thrill Killer- Pleasure from pain

Slight power/control aspect involved as well.

‘Causes’

Childhood trauma (abusive father)

Environmental factors (mother died when he was 18-20)

Type of killer: *Note: I’m still not 100% satisfied with this part, I might make some changes later*

He won’t just kill anyone. They have to meet a certain list of requirements.

Viv compared him as someone similar to Dexter

He’s a very goal oriented killer. Whatever he did it was with reason and purpose, meticulously planned. Ex: Maybe one year he’d kill someone who was a real jerk, to see how the others around him flourished. Likewise he might kill someone who was important to the community just to see how the grief made everyone react.

He was a very careful killer, he ended up dying purely on accident, bad luck.

He killed for the fun of it, pure joy, excitement, curiosity. But he only killed people he thought deserved it.

He considers what he does to be ‘work’. He expresses in the pilot how after decades in hell it’s become ‘mundane’ and ‘aimless’.

The victims had to be overconfident to some degree.(This ties into the ‘he wouldn’t chase his victims.’ They had to be somewhat full of themselves or naive)

Some kills are personal (Someone wronging him, trying to hurt him, otherwise he just wouldn’t care if some guy is an asshole) but others are just because he feels like they’re bad/ they’ve have done something that they need to die for.

He used ‘personal’ ways of killing people. (Knife, his hands). I don’t think he would have used a gun of any kind because of the noise, but he could have once every blue moon.

Generally doesn’t draw things out for too long ”...If I wanted to hurt anyone here... I would have done so already.” (He defeats Sir Pentious in under a minute. But still takes the time to crush him and drag his body across the floor.)

He ate people, and knew how to make delicious meals out of them.

Buried his victim’s bodies/ remains on a hunting ground for deer.

Morals

No human is pure or kind just because. They’re selfish beings. Who take and act to help their own causes. Everyone is a monster on the inside. “...redemption, the nonexistent humanity!”

Everyone puts on a mask to hide who they truly are. Life is one big game to see who can survive. “...the world is a stage! And the stage, is a world of entertainment!”

People don’t change “...there is no undoing what is done.”

Puts himself first, and above everyone else. He also degrades others. “I don’t think there’s any hope left for such loathsome sinners...” ”Inside of every demon is a lost cause, but we’ll dress them up for now with just a smile!” “...and show these simpletons some proper class and style...” “...do I know you?” “You think I’m [husk] some kind of fuckin’ clown!?” “...maybe!”

People deserve the consequences they get for being themselves “...the chance given was the life they lived before, the punishment is this!”

He understands what society views as good and evil, but doesn’t really believe in those standards himself. What is considered evil he just views as a hobby or something fun to explore. Ex: Cannibalism is wrong by society’s standards, but to him he thinks the greater wrong is killing something and not making use of it.

He has some level of empathy. (Again, He’d never kill a child or those running away.)

People’s emotions are a fun little game to him. “...I want to watch the scum of the earth struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip, and tumble down into the firey pit of failure!”

Doesn’t see value in being nice or honest. (He does find it funny to watch)

Other notes/ hc

He’s knowledgeable. In more ways than one. He knows not to fuck with certain people if he doesn’t want to get hurt, he’s got knowledge on the workings/ operations of hell and deal-making.

Likes to cook

He likes bitter things (Bloody meat, alcohol, black coffee)

He’s got a party side to him.

He speaks french!

He plays musical instruments

He knows how to fight without his powers

He’s an only child

He’s part creole

He hates silence, he always surrounds himself with noise of some kind.

Husk and Alastor have a long, complicated relationship

He does things to make Nifty happy (Wearing sweaters)

He’d go out into a hurricane just to let it beat him down for fun (Why is this so funny to me)

Despite all he is, Alastor is capable of having friends and loving.

Has absolutely NO romantic experience.

He hates modern technology in general, but hates tik tok the most

The idea of Alastor cross-dressing to lure his victims in is absolutely hilarious to me, but I don’t think he’d ever do it.

[gendryadempsie]

All men must die convention - The second edition

I finally have my digital photos and here are some with Joe (+ Jacob, Iwan and one of my friends). I hate myself on those pictures (i feel soooo ugly), but Joe and the boys are amazing ! I’ll post my pics with other cast members later.

I didn’t put watermark on it, but please, don’t repost without credit and don’t cut me off my own pics. Since last week-end, I saw that a lot and it’s not very respectful nor pleasant for the fans. Thank you in advance.

Now, I’m gonna explain you my week-end. It’s going to be long, feel free to not read lmao. As usual, i’m really sorry for my poor english. I write this very quickly, because I have to go to work in one hour ahah

So, as I already said in a previous post, this week-end was magical and Joe was the best.

During the autographs on saturday, while I was waiting for Jack’s, I heard someone calling me by my name. I turned my head and it was Joe ! He  remembered me from last year ! He asked me if i was ok and he was like “ok, i’m gonna give you a hug”. He came to me and hugged me so tight, it was so cute.

And when i saw him later, for his autograph, he was amazing. I spent 15 minutes with him (I’m so sorry for the fans waiting behind…) and it was incredible. He gave me so many hugs and he remembered many things from our last meeting. He was still excited about the fanbook i made him last year. He looked at my photobook and was happy to see our photo ops from last year. We talked a lot, about the con, our lives and stuff, it was so chill.

I gave him a gift, a football shirt for his collection and oh my god, he looked like a little boy on Christmas morning ! He seemed genuinely happy and told me many times how amazing it was and how much he loved it ! (Later in the week-end, he told me that he talked about this gift to other fans and that he told to all his friends about it ahah). We had a long talk about football, it was fun ! He wrote my autograph :

I told him my mom was at the con and he was so excited ahah (When i saw him later, for the photo ops, my mom was behind in the queue and he told me : “Is that your mom ? You look just like her” and after that, he called her “mom” the whole week-end, even signed her autographe “to Annette/Mom”, ADORABLE !)

Then, i wanted my Gendry Funko pop signed too and i asked him a Gendrya quote. He went with “I can be your family” and told me “I know it’s an Arya quote, but that scene was so emotional and i loved it”, i was like “awww”.

Then, i had to leave, after my 15 minutes with him ahah. I saw him many times during the afternoon : for his meeting-room, his photo ops, the duo with Iwan, the group picture and the duo with Jacob (he loved the idea of using kazoos lmao). He was always so kind, always had a cute word for me like “nice to see you Estelle” and he even called me “lovely Estelle”.

I saw him after, for the selfie lounge and the VIP moment. During the selfie lounge, I went to see all the other actors and had nice chats with all of them, and I finished with Joe. And when I went to see him, we had an adorable and funny moment.

I wanted a seflie with Jacob and him. But Jacob was sitting with Pilou and Gemma. So Joe, who had already taken me by the waist for our photo, took me to them. All three stared at us, as we came towards them, holding each other’s waist, and Jacob said : “Are you gonna make an annoucement ?”. We laughed and I said that I just wanted a selfie. Jacob replied : “Oh shit, I was hoping for some exciting news” and Gemma said : “I’m so disappointed right now”, it was so funny.

I took my selfies with Joe and Jacob, and then, only with Joe.

After that, the VIP moment started. I literally spent 30 minutes with Joe, talking about a lot of things, like football (yes, again ahah), his home, Nottingham, Notting Hill, Hugh Grant, alcohol, his rosy cheeks (yes, don’t ask me why…..), the con itself, my job, etc. It was incredible, but really simple, like if I was talking to a friend, because he makes you feel so confortable ! We also talked about Gendry’s proposal, it was nice.

After that, i saw him and talked quickly with him at the pizzama party, but i spent most of the time with my friends.

Sunday autographs were quicker, because Joe’s manager asked him and the staff to spent less time with fans. But I still had a good five minutes with him. We talked about our nights, the book, our pictures from saturday, his football shirts collection, etc.

I gave him the letter and the bracelet from @whatmakesmebleed and he was truly happy about him. He immediatly put the bracelet and asked me to take a picture of him for Amber. It was really nice and thoughtful. He also said that he was so sorry to cancel Con of Thrones.

Then, he wrote me the cutest autograph i’ve ever read. When he was writing, the staff member who was next to him looked at me with a big smile, and my friend Johanna, who was behind me, hold my hand so tight. He hugged me and told me he was always happy to see me and that i was lovely.

After that, i saw him again for his meeting room, his photo ops (he made a joke about the proposal pic, about my ring ahah), the duo with Iwan, the group picture and the duo with Jacob. This duo was my last photo op of the week-end and i was really sad. When i told him it was our last moment together, he hugged me and told me again stuffs like “it’s always lovely to see you Estelle” etc., and even Jacob, who isn’t a hugger, hugged me ahah

As all my friends, i was a mess during the closing ceremony and we were all so sad when they left the stage. But then, we had a little surprise. Joe’s manager (who is also the manager of most of the actors who were there) allowed us (people with VIP pass) to come in the selfie lounge room (before it started) to say goodbye to the actors. They were all so cute, they all hugged us, Joe came twice to me to say “bye” and hugged me. I thanked him, he thanked me, it was messy, but it was a perfect way to end the week-end.

And when he left the selfie lounge room, 30 minutes later, i was waiting for my last printed photo op and he waved at me and said “goodbye” one last time.

Now, i have the worst DPC ever, but this week-end was absolutely perfect. I had a blast, all the guests were amazing, nice and funny, and Joe was simply the best.

Sorry for the long text, but I wanted to share that with you. Thanks for reading !!

[floralege]

all them numbers for jella. 😈🔥🤲🏽

this  bitch  is  gonna  be  endless  so  if  i  give  up  formatting  halfway  through,  that’s  my  business.

who is the most affectionate ?

typically  it’s  stella  as  far  as  regular  affection  goes  (  cuddling,  kisses,  hugs,  etc.  )  but  javi’s  big  on  grabbing  her  ass,  pulling  her  by  the  waist,  probs  those  random  displays  of  affections  that  makes  her  swoon.  if  they’re  drunk,  though,  both  of  them  probably  get  ten  times  more  affectionate  and  far  more  inappropriate  about  it.

big spoon  /  little spoon ?

normally  it’s  javi  as  the  big  spoon,  stella  as  the  little  one  but  sometimes,  especially  when  she  knows  he’s  tired  /  exhausted,  she’ll  come  up  from  behind  and  hold  him  for  awhile.  fun  fact  !  this  is  something  they  started  before  they  were  officially  together,  they’d  just  never,  ever  speak  of  it  again.

favorite non - sexual activity ?

spoiling  kitty,  stella  dragging  javi  to  the  old  theater  house,  starting  bar  fights,  doing  lines  after  said  bar  fights,  usual  couple  stuff  !

who is most likely to carry the other ?

javi  has  to  carry,  drag,  and  throw  stella’s  scrappy  ass  over  his  shoulder  all  the  time.

what is their favorite feature of their partner’s ?

we  know  javi  is  a  fan  of  the  eyes,  the  titties,  and  the  ant  hill  ass  apparently.  stella  loves  his  eyes,  his  arms,  and  his  hands.  and  them  cakes.

what’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other ?

oh,  they  go  full  demon.  if  they  didn’t  have  feelings,  they’d  probably  get  along  fine  or  just  have  general  indifference,  but the  moment  stella  realized  that  she  was  in  love  with  this  fucker  ?  she  lost  her  shit,  probably  told  him  she  never  wanted  to  see  him  again  and  then  sent  some  nudes.

nicknames  ?  and  if  so,  how  did  they  originate  ?

he  calls  her  fitz  because  that’s  . . .  her  name  and  nobody  knows.  stella  calls  everyone  “sugar”  and  “honey”  to  keep  a  solid  detachment,  so  javi’s  the  only  one  who  gets  referred  to  by  either  his  name  or  “baby”  which  is  actually  soft  for  their  standards.

who worries the most ?

stella’s  far  more  forthcoming  with  her  worry,  but  they’re  both  very  concerned  about  each  other  all  the  time  because  they’re  both  FOOLS.  

who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant ?

javi  probably  remembered  stella’s  order  one  time  and  she  didn’t  stop  thinking  about  it  for  weeks.  

who tops ?

javi  tops  93%  of  the  time,  but  stella  has  her  fun  the  other  7%.  grabbing  the  strap  changed  their  lives,  honestly.

who initiates kisses ?

probably  equally,  though  stella  tends  to  initiate  them  more  in  inappropriate  situations.

who reaches for the other’s hand first?

javi,  probably ? stella  tends  to  grab  his  arm  and  lean  on  him  more.  or  that  ass.

who kisses the hardest ?

again,  javi  -  she  has  her  fun  with  very  light,  teasing  kisses  all  over  him,  but  he’s  the  one  who  comes  back  with  those  knock  ya  off  ya  feet  rough  kisses,  which  are  stella’s  absolute  faves.

who wakes up first ?

javi  because  of  his  work,  and  stella  does  not  make  that  easy  for  him.  not  even  in  a  cute  way,  she  literally  will  cling  to  him  and  whine  to  keep  him  around  longer.

who wants to stay in bed just a little longer ?

stella’s  used  to  being  a  night  owl,  so  she  usually  wakes  up  late  morning  /  mid  afternoon  and  truly  believes  the  world  would  be  a  better  place  if  everyone  functioned  like  that.

who says i love you first ?

stella  spilled  the  beans  first,  but  like  in  general  ?  it  can  go  either way,  usually  inspired  by  something  very  stupid  or  horny.

who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch ?

stella  is  the  lunch  that  arrives  at  javi’s  work  and  sits  on  his  desk.  fill  in  the  blanks  on  the  rest,  duh.

who tells their family/friends about their relationship first ?

WELL  stella  has  no  legit  family  that  she’s  close  with  /  knows  of  so  that’s  all  on  javi,  but  his  sisters  probably  don’t  care  much  anyway.

what do their family/friends think of their relationship ?

everyone  hates  it  but  that’s  just  too  damn  bad  !!

who is more likely to start dancing with the other ?

most  of  the  time  it’s  stella,  unless  javi’s  had  a  few  lines  and  then  he’s  full  oscar  isaac  in  ex  machina  . . .  with  or  without  stella.

who cooks more/who is better at cooking ?

stella  is  a  surprisingly  good  cook,  and  she’s  taken  it  upon  herself  to  learn  javi’s  favorite  foods  because  she  wants  him  to  go  down  on  her.

who comes up with cheesy pick up lines ?

neither  party  would  respond  to  cheesy,  insincere  lines.  gross.

who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times ?

oh  FULLY  stella,  but  i’d  imagine  javi  has  his  moments,  too.  who  initiated  the  funeral  fingering  ?  doesn’t  matter,  they  were  both  very  into  it  and  unapologetic  about  it.

who needs more assurance ?

i  think  they  both  probably  need  reassurance  from  the  other,  but  lol  they’re  both  so  prideful  that  they’d  never  admit  it,  even  at  their  very  best.  in  all  honesty,  though,  javi’s  opinion  is  the  only  one  that  matters  to  her,  so  his  praise  means  everything.

what would be their theme song ?

horror  film  theme  music.  or  porn  music.  combo  of  the  two.  or  this  song  stella  only  sings  for  javi.

who would sing to their child back to sleep ?

YEET  THAT  FUCKIN  BABY  OUT  OF  THE  NARRATIVE.  no  but  i  guess  stella  would,  and  it  would  actually  be  really  sweet  to  think  about.  as  a  whole,  though,  she  has  zero  maternal  instincts. 

what do they do when they’re away from each other ?

obsess  about  each  other,  lmao.  and  then  punish  them  for  it  when  they’re  finally  reunited.

one headcanon about this otp that breaks your heart.

stella  hates,  hates,  hates  that  javi,  in  any  way,  believes  that  she  doesn’t  love  him  or  that  she  doesn’t  want  to  be  with  him.  circumstances  in  the  vegas  world  have  made  it  complicated,  but  after  they  actually  allowed  themselves  to  be  happy  and  get  engaged  and  the  way  javi  looked  at  her  then,  it  breaks  her  heart  that  he  looks  at  her  with  such  disdain  and  he  thinks  that  she  wouldn’t  die  for  him.  because  her  dramatic  ass  would  and  who  knows,  MIGHT.  but  yeah,  stella  loves  that  angry  switch  more  than  anything  and  not  being  able  to  express  it  sucks  BIG  TIME.

one headcanon about this otp that mends it.     

that  thing  you  said  about  javier  watching  stella  perform  and  getting  teared  up  ;  stella  seeing  javier  in  the  audience  and  getting  emotional.  yeah,  makes  me  a  little  SICK.

[redandfranticfeelings]

in light of the final trailer finally dropping, i should finally post some of my bojack season 6 part 2 theories/predictions/guesses/hopes/etc.

warning: this gets very long!!! also, spoilers for everything, obviously.

the moore-carsons have to return. in fact, i think it’d be really interesting if the cold open of the first episode in part 2 was about charlotte. after all, there’s going to presumably be a flashback to bojack during the time when he was friends with charlotte and herb...

given that season 6 overall opened with a flashback to sarah lynn’s death, maybe season 6 part 2 will open on what happened in the moore-carson house after bojack left penny and charlotte behind? since those are the two major incidents that part 1 set up to bite bojack in the ass. however theyre also not anywhere in the trailer, meaning they might not physically show up, or maybe something about their appearance would be a huge spoiler.

we also see bojack return to the club where he did stand-up during the 80s. this is probably what triggers the above flashback. maybe this ties into the charlotte thing too, as mentioned above?

that scene of bojack with the letter from hollyhock has a lot of people talking, with how last season ended and how his hands shake holding it. interesting that it’s a letter and not a phone call or online message. this leads me to believe something physical must be in the letter, like money or some sort of memento or personal record. or maybe she just wants to be old-fashioned. it seems there is some issue b/w hollyhock and bojack because there’s an empty seat when he invites her to some sort of show he’s in, maybe with his wesleyan students. (also diane looks very unamused, even though she and bojack ended on a good note, which feeds the idea that this is after bojack did something bad or something bad about him came out. also, who are all these people in tuxes? are these waiters? is this tied to mr pb buying elefante?)

i actually believe hollyhock will learn about maddy but not about penny, and bojack will assume she knows about penny and forget completely about maddy. this will lead bojack to realize something i don’t think he really has even after all his development: he needs to care about the people he hurts who were never close to him, because they’re still people even if he didn’t want their attention and didn’t “lose” anything in hurting them.

many people have noted that doctor champ isn’t a legal therapist and thus might not be under disclosure agreements, which leads me to believe that he will release information about bojack out of pure spite. i also believe maddy could be doctor champ’s daughter, which would give him even more reason to hate bojack.

however i believe that if everything about bojack does come out...the public won’t really care. it feels within the show’s nature to make a story about how “cancel culture” doesn’t really hold up well and how people will learn about a celebrity, but not care about what they did as soon as some other news overshadows it, and the celebrity won’t really lose anything in their career most of the time. bojack will suffer personally but his career won’t suffer as a result of being “cancelled.” this might actually send him spiraling and maybe he will try to convict himself or something, if he’s still at that level of self-punishing behavior.

something really interesting is that bojack is talking to biscuits braxby, the host of the talk show where he and gina covered up the strangling story. the fact this is the person to whom he’s dumping all his angst...concerns me. is he coming clean about that? does gina know he’s coming clean about that?

speaking of gina, i think she will connect with kelsey after all, maybe even work on the movie. i think kelsey will see past the hollywoo bullshit and suspect gina isn’t being given a fair chance. idk if it’ll work out but it feels in-character for her. i just really hope we see more about kelsey’s movie and i hope it’s a success.

somebody else had to point this out for me to notice, but bojack appears as a...corpse?? in an episode of birthday dad. this means he must lose his teaching job somehow, or at least goes back to acting in LA during his break.

on the subject of mr peanutbutter, i have a lot of thoughts about where his plot is going to go. for a while i thought pickles was going to leave him for joey pogo because of how episode 7 seemed to imply mr pb would set them up and joey is a lot like mr peanutbutter except close to pickles in age and spirit. i assumed this would send mr peanutbutter into a deep depression due to being truly alone for the first time in his life, which would ironically get him fired from making speeches about depression because he becomes unmotivated and irritable, which are symptoms of depression considered “too ugly” for the mainstream (bjhm is just the show to drop that sort of message on us). however, this theory is muddled by both this and the netflix january trailer showing them still together. so if the above does happen, it probably won’t happen right away. (maybe pickles will propose a polyamorous relationship but mr peanutbutter will feel actually jealous?)

and while i don’t like the bojack suicide theory at all, if i have to pick a main character to die, i would put my money on mr peanutbutter, or at least that he’d get really badly hurt after putting on an impulsive grand gesture. his path in life is self-destructive and reckless in its own right, and when he loses everybody, i think he’ll lose himself. i picture him waiting outside diane’s old apartment not realizing she’s moved away for good, possibly getting sick on the sidewalk, hachiko style. however i’m not married to the idea of killing off any character.

on the subject of diane, i really like that we’re seemingly getting more focus on her issues again, and we get more art styles to demonstrate her angst. this one actually resembles the teenage diane from “the dog days are over” which means it could be a flashback. more info on diane’s childhood!

i also think guy’s son is going to muddle things for diane. as good as guy treats her, the son seems to be a major issue with guy, and diane has made it clear she doesn’t want kids so any long-term commitment probably won’t work out. i do hope things don’t end badly for her, and i really hope she doesn’t run back to mr peanutbutter or bojack. maybe she’ll take time to focus on herself and finish that book?

another interesting turn would be if maybe diane’s book ends up being about something that makes her happy rather than something that she thinks is important but stresses her out. or maybe she finds people who will listen to her and actually help her make change in the world, maybe not immediately, but in the long run.

as for princess carolyn i think her plot seems pretty straightforward. the only thing that seems to be implied is a stronger relationship with judah. i wonder if he’ll move in with her, since he’s in her apartment in one of the trailer scenes? she also goes to see him play in a band which seems to suggest we will learn more about judah and PC will get to know him as a person. i wonder if they’ll tease the idea of them as a romantic item, but i don’t think that would stick, though judah is a great man. (maybe we’ll learn he had a partner all along, or maybe he’s aromantic, or maybe he simply doesn’t want to date PC and make things weird knowing how her other work romances blew up in her face.)

as for todd, i’m wondering what’s up with his mom. i wonder if she gave him shit for his asexuality? all we know is she kicked him out of the house and he has some issue with her that makes his sunny attitude sink very quickly. i’m assuming she must have been cold and judgmental towards him like bojack used to be, but maybe even moreso. she probably wanted him to be more serious or something and he couldn’t follow through. i assume she’ll recover fully from her ailments (because they probably don’t want to try to top free churro) and maybe try to become close to todd again through some zany adventures (maybe tied to the reason she was in a coma). i feel like it won’t perfectly work out, though. todd and his father might be able to become closer, though.

i don’t know why margo martindale is threatening todd either, maybe she needs him for a caper? that’s bound to be wacky. imagine if margo is somehow tied to his mother?

todd’s bunny gf looks adorable, and i hope this relationship goes well. i notice maude has some family pictures up and i wonder if her being a rabbit will be relevant, because of the stereotype of rabbit families being so big. maybe her parents will want her to have kids but she’s unsure because she’s asexual. maybe she and todd will evetually have kids through nonsexual means, like adoption or sperm donation, if only because he’s so great with ruthie and the exploration earlier in the season of his family relationships might add some fuel to an arc about him as a father. however i wouldn’t die on this hill, though i do feel like maude and todd will work out.

in fact, i noticed todd is in formal wear during part of the promo and a lot of people from todd stories are there like emily’s firefighter boyfriend and the assistant from when todd was a ceo. initially i thought maybe this was a wedding party but then i realized maude is in the background talking to princess carolyn. i wondered if maybe this is for the peanutbutter and pickles wedding. however since todd is schmoozing and mr pb is giving out drinks, i think it must be something tied to both of them, so maybe a pb living related party?

(the following shot has pickles in formal wear but mr peanutbutter isn’t, and pb looks sad, so she’s going somewhere fancy without him which interests me, maybe connected to the above “pickles tries to date both joey pogo and peanutbutter but pb is jealous and depressed” theory)

i have a feeling they’ll do a time skip of substantial length for the final moments of the show. something that show’s bojack and his friends’ legacy or lack thereof. we can see an older ruthie, and how hollywoo changes, and how people remember bojack if they even do. it could end very bittersweet this way. but that’s just a wild guess, lol.

[mythicallore]

Weird Encounters with humanoids in Texas

There are a lot of strange cases of creatures and entities out there, scattered all across the world. Often these accounts have no clear origin or logical answer to explain what people are seeing, and they seem doomed to flutter about in the periphery of the odd. Strikingly, many of such reports describe entities that are humanoid in nature, and which serve to defy all attempts to truly classify them. The U.S. state of Texas has more than its share of accounts of bizarre humanoid creatures, and here we will look at a selection of some of the stranger.

The first report we will look at here is about as bizarre as they come. Paranormal researcher Albert S. Rosales wrote a series of books called Humanoid Encounters, which focused on alleged sighting of various strange entities corresponding to certain years. In the 1970-1974 edition there is a very odd report from the town of Amarillo, Texas, which supposedly took place in 1970. In the account, the witness claims that he moved into a ranch with his family surrounded by a desolate landscape of sand dunes and very little vegetation. For the first few days at their new home nothing particularly strange happened, but it took a deep right turn into Bizarreville rather quickly.

It started when the grandmother allegedly discovered a den of wolf cubs near the house, but when she brought the grandfather there the next day to show him her discovery it was found that the adult wolves were dead and the cubs were nowhere to be seen. When the wolf carcasses were examined, it seemed as if they had been torn apart by something very large with formidable claws, and this understandably made them a bit wary as to what was roaming around out there in the wilds.

The next evening, the grandfather had a nightmare in which he had a premonition of intense foreboding, and a warning in his head to move away immediately. When he awoke in a cold sweat he went out to the outhouse and as he did so he claimed to have seen a hulking humanoid figure with glowing red eyes, which seemed to be surveying the house from the dark. Interestingly, the witness’ great-grandmother also had a premonition that night, and he would say of what happened next thus:

Earlier in that very night, my great grandmother had a terrible feeling and sent my granduncle, Ray, with his family to check up on his brother. Ray was almost to the house when the car ran out of water. He remembered there was a well nearby and went to get some water. He didn’t get too far when the thing with red eyes came in front of him. He ran back to the car and told his family to run to his brother’s house. He grab his shotgun and Bowie knife so he could buy his family time to get away. Ray made sure the car was between him and creature. The creature charged him quickly. He shot the creature nearly point-blank range several times with no effect. He tried to stab it but almost got slashed by it’s claws. Then, he ran fast as he could to the house. The creature followed but, suddenly stop short of the hill. By then, the entire family was awake and saw it on the hill staring at them. Grandfather told all the girls to get in the bed of the truck and covered them with lots of blankets and other stuff to make a barrier in case the creature jumped into the bed. The men were in the cab of the truck staring at the hulking being. They drove past it praying it didn’t attack them. It’s gaze was on the house. Suddenly it jumped off the hill and began to chase them. It stopped short of the line where the sand ended and grass began.

After this harrowing encounter, they went back the following day to get their things from the house, only to find the ranch owner and numerous police and “military looking” people all over the area. On top of this, it appeared as if the entire first floor of the home had been completely wrecked by something. This was all strange enough, but what really makes it even more surreal and off-the-wall is what happened when a police K-9 unit was released, and the report says of what transpired thus:

A K-9 unit went in to investigate. The first floor was totally destroyed . The second floor was the same as well. The dogs got a scent of something and started to bark at the attic door. The officers opened the door and let the dogs up it. Everybody heard the dogs fighting with something. Suddenly the dogs were thrown out the attic window like rag dolls. They were both skinned alive! The two officers inside went into attic to see what the hell it was. Everybody outside heard lots of gunfire and then saw one the officers being thrown out the window. He was dead before he hit the ground. When everybody looked back up toward the window, they saw the creature clear as day. It looked like a big bald blue-skinned man with big red eyes and sharp claws. The high ranking military man ordered its’ destruction. Everybody opened fire on it and the house. Two guys threw grenades into the attic and it exploded. The house was then set on fire! Grandfather and the family left but later heard that the only body found was that of the other officer. Footprints were found leading away from the house! Nothing of it was ever heard again to their knowledge.

It is all completely and insanely bonkers, and it leaves one wondering just what truth any of it has, and if it does, then what it was they encountered. The problem is that the account has no real sources listed, so it is unverifiable and could very well be fake. Who knows? Speaking of hulking, terrifyingly beastly humanoids, there is another report covered on the site True Horror Stories of Texas, and it involves a witness known only as “Jacqueline.” She claims that she was on her way back to the town of Coldspring, Texas, after visiting her father in Houston, and that as she was passing by Lake Livingston Dam at around 10 PM when some decidedly weird events would unfold, of which she would say:

I was past that light in total darkness with only my headlights shining. I saw something up ahead and slowed down. It was a furry creature on all fours crossing the road. I’ll never forget the way it felt, the hair on my arms are standing up and I get goosebumps just remembering. It looked like the boy from the jungle book crossing the road with the hind part of the body higher than the front.

It stopped just on the other side of my truck passing a few feet in front of my truck. It was dark grey and black and it didn’t seem to have a face or maybe it just had too much hair. It was too big to be a dog or any animal. I still don’t know what it was, all I know is that I drove off speeding away looking back into my rear view mirror hoping it wasn’t following me home. I locked up and stayed close to my rifle the whole night. And to this day driving through that stretch of road I hope I never see that creature again.

What was this thing? Was it, as has been suggested, some kind of werewolf? If it was, then it would not be alone out in the Lone Star State. One of the most well-known of such supposed werewolf reports comes from the town of Converse, Texas, where during the 1800s a rancher moved onto a modest plot of land in the area along with his son. One day the rancher apparently sent his son off on a deer hunting trip, determined to toughen him up, as he was described as a rather frail and nerdy boy who liked to study and read all day rather than go out into the great outdoors.

The boy found himself at a heavily forested area called Skull Crossing, and he disappeared into the woods for several hours. When he returned he was without any kill, and his father was deeply disappointed with him. For his part, the boy claimed that he had been stalked through the woods by some sort of “werewolf,” and that this was one of the reasons he had not been able to hunt, but the father did not believe him. He instead made his son turn right back around and go back to finish the job he had started, despite the boys pleas to not make him go. The young man once again ventured out into the wilderness and his father stood there waiting.

The hours passed and the sun began to set, bathing the woods in darkness, but the boy would not appear from the trees. The father purportedly grew worried, and he decided to call upon some other locals to go out and look for his son, fearful that something may have happened to him out there. As they fanned out into the increasingly murky forest they probably thought that they would find the inexperienced lad out wandering about without a clue, but they would soon find out that something altogether more sinister had transpired.

According to the tale, the search party came upon a monstrous, hairy beast measuring 8 feet tall, which was described as looking like a cross between wolf and man, and which was more disturbingly still crouched down and in the process of eating the dead son of the rancher. The party apparently shot at and chased off the monstrosity, which dispersed with supernatural speed, but the boy was dead, torn to shreds. After this the story becomes a bit hazy, with some versions saying that the rancher went insane and others saying that he locked himself away to wither and die, or that he killed himself. What was this thing, if anything? Was it a real werewolf, a misidentified bear, or something more like a Sasquatch? We will probably never know, and the Converse Werewolf remains little more than a perplexing historical oddity.

Joining werewolves in the wilds of Texas is what has been described as basically a cross between a man and a goat, and which supposedly haunts the picturesque locale of White Rock Lake. For years there have been accounts from the area of being terrorized by a humanoid entity that has a body mostly like that of a man, but with hoofed feet, a horned head, and long fingers with twisted, claw-like fingernails. Whatever it is, the Goatman of White rock Lake has been seen far and wide, and has become entrenched in the local lore. Interestingly, Texas seems to be crawling with Goat Men, as there is another said to haunt the Old Alton Bridge in Denton County, and yet another said to prowl the wilds of Lake Worth. Cryptids, ghosts, interdimensional beings? What in the world are the Goat Men?

Less identifiable is a story shared by Week in Weird, of some sort of creature with glowing eyes that was seen and even photographed at a cemetery in North Houston. In 2013, a paramedic claims that he had been at the Mueschke Cemetery in order to take a rest along with his partner at around 2 AM. As they drifted off to sleep, there was apparently heard something roaming about through the underbrush, and when the pair peered into the dark they were met with the sight of two glowing eyes peering right back at them. The partner apparently had the presence of mind to snap a picture of whatever it was, and this was soon posted to the Internet. The picture is indistinct and pretty mundane mostly, but there are indeed two glowing orbs in the upper left hand corner that look like they could be the eyes of something lurking in the woods. What do you think?

A very surreal, and most certainly paranormal entity reported from Texas and covered by Glenn Harrison, and posted at True Texas Horror Stories, is that of a strange creature known as La Malacosa, or, rather ominously, “The Bad Thing.” The entity was first mentioned in Adventures in the Unknown Interior of America, published in 1542, and begins with the arrival of conquistador Cabeza de Vaca, who during their many adventures came across a Native tribe in the Ozark mountains, who told the Spaniards that they had long been visited by a mysterious bearded stranger, who always appeared as rather indistinct and blurry, as if maintaining jst a tennous hold on reality.

This stranger was said to carry with him some sort of blindingly bright light, a lantern or wand, which he would wave about in front of him and in some cases cause people to faint in fright or under the influence of some arcane force. The appearance of this wandering figure was often accompanied by the discovery of the dead bodies of both animals and humans who appeared to have been surgically operated upon, some of their organs removed, and then the whole thing stitched back together again. Other tribesmen showed scars or disfigurations that they claimed had been inflicted by La Malacosa in the night.

This stranger was also said to appear at tribal feasts or celebrations, lurking in the shadows of the sidelines to merely watch, never partaking in the opulent meals laid out at such events. According to legend he would never talk to anyone, except to say that he was from a place “from the regions below.” The conquistadors mostly scoffed at such stories, but used it all as a way to try to convert the Natives to Christianity. It is uncertain just what La Malacosa was supposed to be, an ancient spirit, a demon, or even an alien going about performing mutilations, but it is a creepy historical account to be sure.

Perhaps even weirder still are creatures not stalking abut on the land, but rather through the skies above. Another report was covered on the site True Horror Stories of Texas, this time from near Three Rivers, Texas. In 2000, the witness claims that he had been driving along the highway IH37 between San Antonio and Corpus Christi at around 1 AM. He was heading along the interstate, the nighttime scenery flashing by past his headlights, when something odd apparently flew up right out of the night and up over his car. He would describe the weird encounter thus:

A large white humanoid figure with wings. Not a crane, or goose, or swan, or bird of prey…but a humanoid figure with skin wings. I remember doing about 65 mph and it came from the right rear and crossed my driving line at about 45 degrees… overtaking me in speed by maybe 5-10 mph. As it crossed over me it was only 10 or so feet above the roof of my vehicle. Wingspan was probably 6-8 feet and the skin was white. The wings looked to be constructed/shaped more like you would expect to see on a bat or pterodactyl but with a solidly defined human arms on the leading edge. There were definitely human legs trailing behind it and the torso was built like a human. Because it came from behind, I did not see a face. But, looking back I’m glad I didn’t.

Another flying humanoid creature that has had plenty of coverage in Texas is the so-called “Houston Batman.” Sightings began back in the 1950s, when a bat-like humanoid was seen all over the area by numerous witnesses. The first official sighting happened in June of 1953, when three neighbors at the Houston Heights apartment complex saw what they would describe as a “very tall man or manlike figure standing about six and a half feet tall but with bat-like wings attached to his back.” Making it all even stranger was that the entity seemed to be surrounded by an ethereal glow. Ever since then the “Batman” has been seen across the city, often causing witnesses to freeze for no discernible reason, and has never entirely been explained.

What lies out there in the badlands of the state of Texas? What strange creatures and entities call this place home? We are not likely to find any concrete answers any time soon, but such accounts serve to get the imagination going. Are these ghosts, specters, demons, or some sort of interdimensional entities, so called “ultra terrestrials”? The very isolated nature of these reports leaves us scratching our heads. In the end we can only guess at the nature of such beasts, and hope that we do not run across them if we are ever traveling along a dark road in Texas.

[korkrunchcereal]

Dawn

Night falls, and Cyvar Wrenth must break his oath to fulfill another. Though it is dark out he does not need torchlight, for he knows the castle’s ground as if his own hands. Besides; the glow beyond the walls gave plenty enough light. The castle has been abandoned save for twenty-one men and women, Calithielwen and of course himself. The others have fled. Part of Cyvar wishes for such freedom of duty; to have a choice.

But he’s never had a choice.

The air is damp here, far below the castle. There is no torchlight, for it is an area forbidden to all but the lords of the Castle and Cyvar. He is grim faced as he marches down the hall he has walked many times. He is not alone this time, however. Twenty footsteps echo behind him, each step a desecration of sanctity and oath. He does not care they walk these parts, just as he does not care they witness him open the locks of the treasury.

Aralan. Arasa. Balor. Cyena. Aphora. Nerus. Forya. Malwen. Varrigan. Illana. Saiyena. Caliban. Caledor. Silora. Droman. Argelos. Vira. Gilloux. Jasara. Tyran. They are names he puts into memory; names he has instructed the last member Tal-Euorva to remember.

Names that were doomed to die.

The treasury holds the wealth of house Indaris, though it is smaller than he remembers. His master has used much coin to buy his house’s protection and freedom, though to no avail. He does not worry for gold, however. He is after something more practical for the situation. He leads the doomed like a pied piper, the twenty uncaring of the vast wealth around them. They are Cyvar’s best amidst the knights Indaris commanded, and his heart breaks with each of their steps.

The treasury held more than gold. It held the arms and armaments of lords and heroes of the house long dead. The great Arakan bow, the sword of Balador, Hallera’s shield; the armory of kings now given to soldiers. Cyvar breaks his oath to guard the treasures from unworthy hands, for he must uphold his vow to protect Calithielwen. He must buy her time to live.

Even if it must cost them their lives.

The twenty arm themselves. Silora is the best shot, so she takes the Arakan bow. It hums as she grabs it, as if accepting its user. He notices her smile, and the pride in Tyran's eyes. They were to have a son, they told Cyvar once. One day, when the world was not so mad and cruel. The twins Droman and Argelos grab duel swords, for their swordplay is liken unto a dance. Varrigan, mightiest of the twenty dons the plates of Viraxon Indaris, for the lord had been a big man of well reputed strength. Cyvar knows Varrigan will hold until the end of creation, should he command such. He was always loyal, that way. Varrigan pats his chest, grinning wide as he laughs. Light, Cyvar would miss that about him.

They are armed now, but Cyvar needs a sword. He has his dagger strapped to his waist yet needs something more. He bids them a moment and retreats further into the treasury. His lordship kept many trophies from battle, including weapons. Perhaps greatest and most cursed of all was the demon blade he recovered, from a great and terrible power. Aurelian had never explained what happened, only that he had retrieved a shard of a mighty demon’s sword on the Broken Shore and had forged it into a weapon. He rarely used it for he preferred his ancestral runeblade, and in truth Cyvar believes his lordship fears the weapon.

Cyvar has no such fear as he grabs it. There is a faint whisper on the edge of his ear, like a wisp of smoke yet he ignores it. He has other things to focus on. He emerges from the back, the twenty armed and armored. They look like the heroes of old. Cyvar does not say it, but they all know it. They will all die like them, too. He nods to them and leads them out, pausing only to seal the treasury once more. Only the blood of an Indaris can open the seal, or one who is blood bound. He ensures no one may loot the Indaris fortune once he dies.

The air is thick as he ascends; thick with smoke and some other foul-smelling miasma. He bares it no heed though someone coughs behind him. The courtyard is empty and the sight haunts Cyvar. Dark are the times when the laughter of visiting nobles and courtiers is gone. Even the birds have fled, away from the terrible danger that has come. He looks up to the orange glow amidst the moonlight, eyes red. He has not slept in some time for he is too worried. They reach the ramparts and ascend. Higher and higher they travel and as they break the crest they see a world on fire.

The countryside is burning.

In the distance, Cyvar sees thick plumes of smoke rising from the inferno that had been Rivervale. He frowns in sadness, for he knows the people there. Most are safe, but their homes are gone. Where will Mila make her bread, he wonders. His eyes trail across the land, towards the distant Illonian Plains. There is no fires there yet though he knows it is only a matter of time.

Even if the Elves survive, the land will be devastated. The loss of the fertile Illonian Plains will hit the people of the Crescent Hill hard. He suspects there will be famine, though such calamity will be rife across the kingdom. Local gangs will rise in power and there will be banditry, and with the armies depleted there will be little that can stop them. In that he is thankful to die, for he will not have to see the land he has sworn to protect be consumed in madness.

Yet he is not dead yet. He looks out to the horizon and sees no sign of the Blackbloods. He has not seen them before but knows what to expect. They are monsters and nightmares given flesh, and they are doom. His heart sank when he heard of the defeat at the Tempest pass. Ceana Greyflame was a good woman and a good stabilizer in the otherwise tumultuous politics of the Coast. Without her, the province will erupt into chaos he fears.

“Well, they’re not here yet.” Cyvar calls out to the others. They will be soon, though.

“Hear that Aphora?” Malwen turns to face the woman, his face alight in amusement. “We got time to hear my singing one last time.”

“Gods I’d rather die than here you sing.” Aphora responds. It brings a round of laughing, including from Malwen. Nevertheless one of the party, Caliban, disappears back down the spiral stairs. The rest find various places to sit whether it be against the ramparts or on barrels pulled forth from the armory. Gilloux leans against a ballista he had helped repair that very day with arms crossed. It was one of the several artillery pieces along the wall.

Too few.

It was all too few.

The group begins to chat amongst themselves, though Cyvar pays little attention. He continues to glance out beyond the walls for any sign of the Blackbloods. He picks up some of the things they say and cannot help but smile, though it does not reach his eyes. Silora and Tyran had finally decided on a name for a child. Sirowan if it were to be a male, and Mallera if a woman. Caledor argues the child should be named after him, and offers Tyran a swig of his wine skin as a bribe.

The twenty begin to pass around various flasks and skins with much joy and cheering as they dare each other to drink more and more. Cyvar does not interfere. He cannot deny this small comfort to them. Besides, he knows they will not drink to stupor. Not like his lordship, anyways. Light he regrets not telling Aurelian to ease on the wine. The drink will kill him one day. In truth, Cyvar regrets a great many things and not just about Aurelian.

His thoughts turn to his son, Vamiran. He hasn’t seen the boy in over a year now. Not since…well, not since Cyvar chose duty over family. He had never been a great father to Vamiran. In truth, he was more a father to Aurelian than his own son though he needed to be. He needed to do whatever he could to ensure Aurelian would never end up like Arcannon. He’s failed in that, however. Failed in so many ways. He hopes Vamiran and Aurelian will forgive him.

Caliban returns bearing with him a lute. They all cheer, and ask he play a song. They cannot decide whether to play something sad, or happy. Caliban argues that there will be enough sadness by morning, and so chooses a song he wrote that he considers romantic. He explains it is about two lovers forever chasing one another. It is a song Cyvar recognizes as Caliban sing, his voice soft with the lute. He’s heard it before. The others recognize it too and join in, adding their voices.

The moon calls, forevermore

She bid me come embrace her light

I chase and chase across the stars

Only for the briefest sight

 The sun calls, forevermore

Across the world I see his rays

I chase and chase across the stars

Grasping for the fire’s blaze

 The moon calls, forevermore

She bid me come into her gaze

I chase and chase across the stars

I yearn and grasp for all my days

 The sun calls, forevermore

So close I feel the burning heat

I chase and chase across the stars

Our touch alas so ever fleet

 The moon and sun, forevermore

Together they are bound as one

They’ve chased and chased across the stars

In moments few though they are done

The group applauds Caliban, whistling and cheering. Cyvar watches Illana and Saiyena inch closer, hands placed together now though none but he see it yet. He looks away, taking a deep breath as a sudden wave of guilt floods him. Why were they all so damn loyal? They could have said no to this task; could have continue to lead their lives. They should be, damn it. Instead they made him proud. They did not hesitate when he asked them to die for House Indaris.

What had the house truly ever done to them, to earn such loyalty? What had Aurelian done to garner such devotion? Cyvar was unsure. Perhaps Aurelian knew of Jasara’s debts and threatened to expose her. Perhaps he knew that Caledor was the paramour of no less than three noble women. Perhaps he knew Nerus and Forya had been petty criminals before Cyvar had found them. Perhaps he knew all of this…and perhaps he didn’t.

The answer Cyvar surmises is much simpler. They agreed to his suicide task because they, like him, had no choice. They were duty bound to themselves. To be a knight of Indaris was to uphold great virtues and dedication, and that life shaped them…made them who they are today. Though, what did it actually make them, as they sang to one another now?

Dead men.

His thoughts are grim, and Cyvar tries to think of something else. He looks out beyond the ramparts, arms folding. He stops, going silent and still. He swears he sees movement at the edge of the twin bridges. He cannot hear them, for the sound of running water from the river Sin’dal far below is strong thanks to the winter’s run off and the merrymaking on the ramparts is loud.

“Cyvar?” He hears one call. He does not answer, instead narrowing his eyes. He has begun to grow old, but his eyesight is sharp yet. There it is again, and now he realizes. His eyes widen, waving a hand to them. Immediately their chattering ceases. There is the sound of armor shifting and plate upon stone as the twenty spread upon the walls. He sees them now.

The Blackbloods. Death has come for them at last.

From here they looked to be a writhing mass of flesh without form, though he wonders how far from the truth he really is. He looks to his left and right, moving towards the gate. Torches and braziers are lit and illuminate the ramparts. Gilloux, Vira and Aralan have each taken to a ballista. The rest have various forms of ranged weapons in hand, though the Arakan bow in Silora’s glows like starlight. Overhead the sky roars in rage as thunder booms. The Blackbloods have brought a storm with them, it seems.

“Gilloux!” Cyvar shouts. “Is the Bridge in position?”

“Yes, sire! On your command.” Good. Aurelian would skin Cyvar for it, but Cyvar will be a dead man by then anyways. Near two years ago now, there had been a ploy to usurp House Indaris and destroy the Gilded Lands. Though the plot was stopped, there had been leftover…elements from it. Cyvar had ensured such was collected and stored away in secret beneath the castle. That morning, he had brought forth the traitorous Moonsworn’s final ‘gift’.

Closer now the Blackbloods draw, and lightning cracks against the sky. Briefly they are illuminated by its light, and Cyvar pales. He was not wrong to assume them a writhing mass of flesh. Hundreds, nay perhaps thousands of bodies pressed against each other, squeezing across the great bridges that arched over the river Sin’dal. They came in all shapes and sizes, howling and roaring with inhuman voices. Another flash of light, and Cyvar can make out now elves among them. One seemed different from the others, hovering over the mob of monsters.

“Gods they’re ugly.” Balor mutters. He cranes his neck, shouting down the line. “Hey Arasa! Maybe you can finally find a man among this lot!”

“Fuck off!” Arasa’s response brings a chorus of laughter, though not from Cyvar. His eyes narrow, hand gripped tight around the sword. It illuminates his features with a sickly fel glow. It highlights the anger drawn in hard lines on his face. He can hear it whispering to him. It promises him power, and a thousand riches he can never have.

He ignores it, as he no doubt will have to throughout the night. He knows he dies this evening, but he cannot die quick nor can the others. They must buy time for Tal-Euorva to escort Calithiel to safety, to the southwest. He has a contact in Mistborn, and a ship able to carry her away. She argued against it, even trying to fight it. Cyvar could not fail Aurelian in this, and so has her bound. He trusts Tal-Eurova with his life and knows she will not fail him.

He does not need the lightning to see them now. He picks out indescribable shapes moving in jarring motions. He sees maws biting at the air and howling for blood. He smells the foul stench of decay and rot, and it drives him to gag. They’re close now. Just a few more steps…

Closer…

Closer…

…closer…

“Now!” Cyvar commands. In an instant the three-ballista fire, sending large bolts into the horde. They cannot miss so great is the Blackblood’s numbers, and their foul cries of agony reward the Indaris soldiers. They bray and howl, picking up their pace as they make for the gate. They have no siege equipment nor ranged weapons so far as Cyvar sees. Then he hears it.

It is quiet at first, drowned out by the whispers of his sword. Yet it grows beyond that, and further still echoes across the ramparts. It is ugly in sound and Cyvar recognizes not the words, but the meaning. It has become a chant among the Blackbloods, and Cyvar picks out a small cabal of void elves amidst their numbers. A faint mist rises from the horde in a sickly pale purple, and it lashes out at the castle. To the surprise of the void elves, it dissolves mere feet away.

The castle is old, and Cyvar’s twenty are not the only defenses it possesses. It was built long ago, in the dawning of the Quel’dorei civilization. The walls hold stones as old as the Gilded Lands itself and carry ancient secrets few now possess or remember. Cyvar watched as they tried to conjure another spell only for that one to also be dispelled. At that he smiled, for he knew they were robbed a key element in their attack. The small victory was fleeting however, for they yet held numbers unending. The Blackbloods spanned the length of the great stonework that bridged the castle to the rest of the Crescent Hills.

It was time.

“Silora, now!” Dutifully she obeys and nocks her arrow. She releases the breath she was holding and lets the arrow fly. It catches fire midway through the air, though it does not land on the Blackbloods. No it instead lands upon a spot near the bridge and as it hits sparks shoot skyward. The sparks moved fast, travelling in a line and disappearing from sight as it dips below the bridge. Moments later, the world exploded.

The bridges, which were older than any living creature in Quel’thalas, was consumed in an inferno. Stones were sent flying through the air in a massive explosion that rocked the very castle itself. Cyvar grabs the ledge, steadying himself. Hundreds if not thousands are eviscerated in moments as Moonsworn’s last gift was revealed. Though Moonsworn had failed to blow Aurelian up with gunpowder in his coup, Cyvar had collected it and stored it away. The Indaris house had always been traditionalists, but Cyvar was more…practical. After all, gunpowder was both rare and valuable and that much would prove useful as he just saw.

The sound was deafening, and no doubt was heard for miles away. Plumes of ash rose to the night sky, and as the smoke began to clear the full extent of the damage was clear. The bridges, built in the time of the Gilded Lands founding, had been reduced to mostly rubble with great yawning holes replacing the majority of the stonework. Cyvar did not have enough gunpowder to completely destroy both however, and so small paths yet remained across. The explosion had slain a great chunk of the Blackbloods though, and those that did not die from the explosion itself fell far into the roaring waters below to drown. Cyvar takes solace in this with a grim smile. The others cheer loudly, their voices proud.

The Blackbloods are quick to recuperate, unfazed by the explosion. Without hesitation they charge once more, severely reduced in number but nevertheless hungry for bloodshed. Now they were within range of bows, and a volley of arrows were unleashed. Deadliest was Silora, for she nocked arrow after arrow in rapid succession. The tip burned with a fierce glow upon release and shined like starlight when it arced across the sky. As it rained upon the heads of the Blackbloods it became a shower of meteors, exploding with force in a hail of lights. And so each arrow was worth five, and she reaped a grim harvest. Further still the ballista still fire and bring woe upon the enemy.

Yet beneath this death the Blackbloods mindlessly charged, uncaring of their casualties. Cyvar briefly wonders what foul force gives them such strength. What evil could exist that reinforces such bitter and senseless hatred? He is a man of little faith, though this makes him question his beliefs. Surely there are gods in this world and some cruel to give this madness shape.

“Barrels!” Cyvar bends down, grabbing a barrel with a grunt. The contents slosh inside with the motion, betraying it to be liquid. Slowly he places it on the rampart, looking down the wall’s length to see much the same from others. Varrigan held two with ease, a grim smile on his face like that of a butcher spotting a choice meat. He waits until they are just before the walls.

With a roar he pushes the barrel, and the others follow suit. They crash far below to the ground, spraying their contents across both stone and monster. As they react, Cyvar grabs a nearby torch and drops it over the edge. He watches with worry as the flames are nearly snuffed out by the fall, though hold true. As it touches the liquid, the world erupts in fire.

Great flames rise high from the liquid for it was oil and Cyvar had learned from his spies in the evacuation that the Blackbloods feared fire. The creatures hissed and cried out as their flesh burned. Blackened oily skin oozed off of bone from the intensity, and soon the monsters hesitated in their attack. In response more barrels were dropped, spreading the fire further. Cyvar watches as Varrigan launches one deep into the ranks of the Blackbloods amidst a group of the Void Elves, an arrow lit with flames swiftly chasing it. Moments later the group was set ablaze, and as they panicked and ran they spread the flames further.

A woman stepped forward, unphased by the flames. Cyvar saw her earlier amidst the horde, and now assumes she leads the host. An arrow crashes into her, only to rebound off of an invisible force. The flames die out in her presence, fading as she steps through. She looks up, her face hidden by a crimson veil. Though Cyvar does not see them, he knows her eyes are upon him. Casually, she extends an arm out, and the last of the fire is snuffed out.

“Focus that woman!” Arrowfire rains down upon her, though it still rebounds. She is too close for the ballista fire, and her opening allows the Blackbloods to charge the walls once more. Cyvar curses as he reaches for barrel no longer there. They were out of oil. Light, they were so few. So few…

So few.

Cyvar shakes his head, realizing the sword was whispering to him once more. He leans over the rampart now, cursing. The Blackbloods were hammering at the gate, each blow a resounding thud that seemed to reverberate through the stones. Worst still, they had reached the walls and climbed over each other to reach the top. It was a frenzy of mindless movement as they clawed at one another, all the while arrows rained down on them.

To his horror, Cyvar realizes the Blackbloods were getting closer. In their haste, they had formed a pile to climb and the dead aided in its growth. Slowly they would reach the top and pour over the walls like a tide. They had slain many by now. Cyvar might guess hundreds even, though of that he’s not certain. It was hard to tell in the darkness what was dead and what simply looked dead.

“I’m out of arrows!” Nerus calls in panic.

“Me too.”

“Aye, same.”

“As am I!” Each call sends a chill down Cyvar’s spine. He knows that the ballista are running low too by now, and the horde is still great. Damn Aurelian for emptying the castle of most of its soldiers. Cyvar could do great things with two hundred men, but twenty? Such limits were being tested moment by moment. They needed to hold.

“Draw swords! Though you will see no dawn beyond this day, hear no child’s laughter or lover’s sweet coos you will be forever remembered. Your names will be carved into the annals of history as the brave twenty that stood against the endless tides of darkness. Fight until your swords shatter! Fight until your bodies break! Fight until the world’s ending! Long live house Indaris!”

“Long live house Indaris!”

A head peeked over the rampart only to be separated from its shoulders by Cyvar. His sword seemed to sing with glee at the bloodshed, pulsing briefly. Another rose, and another and soon the Blackbloods had reached the ramparts. Now the fighting had truly begun. Hear now the slaughter, for Cyvar’s twenty brought low foe after foe. Cyvar himself brought death and ruin with each strike for his blade was hungry for battle as was he.

He stands his ground as more rise over the wall, clawing and grabbing at him. His armor is thick and enchanted, and their blows are futile. His are not, and each cleaves a Blackblood in twain. The black ichor that is their blood sprays across his body, but he does not stop. The others fight with equal fury, and it is not until the fighting has gone on for some time that the first one falls.

Cyvar does not see Aralan’s death at first. He is too busy fighting for his life. He hears his death throes, for Aralan cries out in rage and pain as he is torn to pieces by a great many claws. Cyvar glances over and witnesses Aralan thrust his sword into his killer’s skull, taking one more with him before he succumbs to his wounds. Cyvar mutters a quiet prayer for the man, though his attention is taken away once again.

The bodies pile up around them. First they are to the ankles, and then the knees. They are running out of room to swing their weapons, though the elves do not stop. They fight with wild fury and like a cornered beast do not go quietly to their deaths. The stones shake beneath them as the Blackbloods pound against the gate in great apocalyptic crashes. The blows reverberate to the bone.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Forya is next to die. As he swings down upon a misshapen creature with two heads, several more pounce upon him. He slips from the spilled blood and stumbles over the bodies he has made. Cyvar hears his scream as he falls over the rampart into the horde of Blackbloods. It lasts only seconds before it is silenced. Cyvar grieves but he cannot stop to pay respects to the man he had personally trained.

Slowly, the elves are being pushed back step by gruesome step. Each inch given was paid for in blood, but the Blackbloods had plenty of blood to give. Malwen falls and before he can rise he is buried beneath the weight of numbers. Cyvar does not know if the man was ripped to shreds or suffocated, but Malwen does not rise. They are at the edge of the wall now and are running out of options.

“Clear a path to the stairs! The wall is lost, we reinforce in the courtyard!” Cyvar is unsure if his command is heard over the battle at first, though soon the others move. Varrigan barrels through like a living battering ram, the plates of Viraxon Indaris shielding him from their blows. His sheer size and strength aid in pushing the blackbloods over the wall and clearing a path, and the others follow suit. Upon the opposite stairs the others are able to make it, though as Jasara begins to descend she is pulled back into the horde of teeth and claws and is seen no more.

Cyvar was left with sixteen now, as they slowly backed down the stairs. Beneath them the stone was giving way to grass, and their feet touched the courtyard. The Blackbloods in their haste strained to escape the confines of the stairs, pouring forth slowly. Varrigan is a wall and blocks the eastern stairs with his prodigious size alone. The other is held by the twins Droman and Argelos who in their dance of steel none could touch.

For the others, there is a brief respite to breath. None are without wounds, and all are tired. They cannot rest, however. They don’t have time to. The weight of numbers is too great, and Varrigan and the twins are pushed back. Argelos is too slow to dodge a blow and is gored upon the horn of some foul creature. Droman cries out in rage, slaying his brother’s attacker but it is too late. He too is slain for in his anger leaves himself open. He does not go down easy and takes a score more with him before he collapses from his wounds.

They are fifteen now.

Now the Blackbloods pour into the courtyard, trampling grass and flowers underfoot. They spread out in wild abandon across the castle’s grounds, searching for others to kill or to otherwise surround the elves. The elves fight, weapons slick in their hands with blood. For Cyvar it is easy still to hold his sword. The demon blade sung with glee on each swing, and the blood seemed only to strengthen each blow. Cyvar’s arms ached yet he kept swinging, each blow biting deeper than the last.

There was a great creaking sound, followed by a loud crash. Various eyes turned towards the gate, which had splintered and buckled under the assault. Moments later the gates exploded in a shower of wood, broken pieces swinging open. For the first time in seven thousand years, the castle was breached. Now a living tide crashed into the castle, for the whole horde could pour in now. Among them marched a company of heavily armored void elves, who spread out much as the Blackbloods had.

“Damn them!” Cyvar sees death for them all fast approaching. No, not yet. He is distracted by something out of the corner of his eye and grunts in pain as a blow strikes his chest. He is sent flying back and falls hard. He looks up to the maw of some beast ready to close around him, yet before it can a sword pierces it skull.

“Get up, Cyvar!” Varrigan extends out a hand as he spoke which Cyvar gladly accepts. “Take the others into the main hall and bar the doors. I’ll hold them whilst breath still flows in me yet.” Cyvar does not have time to respond, for Varrigan charges with a great and thunderous roar. He is likened to a giant and smashes his way through Blackblood and void elf alike. Blows rain upon him and some pierce, yet he does not stop. Behind him follows Gilloux and Aphora, charging into certain death without hesitation.

“Quickly, to the hall!” The others obey Cyvar’s command, slowly falling back. Gilloux falls and soon too does Aphora for they are overwhelmed by the number of monsters. Varrigan however remains. He stands at the gate’s remains, and with each swing brings death. The last sight Cyvar has of Varrigan is the man roaring his defiance before he is swallowed by the tide.

A fire catches somewhere on the west wing and it begins to blaze in the night. The fire illuminates the path of the party as they charge for the main door. Nerus is slow to follow and is cut off from the others. He realizes his fate and turns to buy precious seconds. They make it to the doors, swinging them open to quickly enter. Cyvar watches Nerus fall, throat torn out by vicious claws. Still bloody, his killer leaps for Cyvar. An arrow breezes past Cyvar, sailing into the monster’s eye socket and drops it. Silora steps forward, firing shot after shot with the Arakan bow.

The doors begin to close, pushed against the weight of numbers by the group. Only Silora and Cyvar do not push, for they slay any that approach. Light he is tired now. His arms ache, and he bleeds from a dozen places. He does not relent however as he must hold the door. There is little room now, and he steps back into the safety of the room. As Silora turns around to run in she stops suddenly and gasps. Cyrus looks down and sees the massive spear lodged through her chest. Blood oozes from the wound, and she falls to her knees.

“Silora!” Tyran pushed his way forward, reaching for her. She weakly reaches out to grab his hand, before she is pulled into the Blackbloods. “NO!” The doors slam shut. Cyvar pulls him away as he struggles to re-open the doors, while the others bar them. “Let me go Cyvar! I need to get to her!”

“She’s dead, Tyran!”

“No, she- “

“Tyran!” Cyvar shouts, holding the man. “I’m sorry.” Tyran turns to look at Cyvar before he weeps, falling against the man with a thud. He sobs openly into Cyvar’s shoulder, holding his commander tight. There is only the sound of his grief now, and it echoes in Cyvar. The others stand morose and grim, for now they were ten including Cyvar. Each loss hurt, for they were friends, siblings or lovers.

“Cyena. Take Vira and reinforce the western hall. Illana, you and Saiyena defend the east. Hold them with your lives, am I understood?” They nod and set off in silence, for there was nothing now to speak of. Cyvar watches them leave, his body aching. How many have they killed now? Most had given their lives by now, but what did they bring down with them?

Light, they must have slain thousands by now between the destruction of the bridge and their own efforts. Could the last ten keep it up? How many could they feasibly kill before they too perished? A great boom crashed against the door and drew his thoughts away. The group turned to face it with weapons drawn. Tyran pulls himself off of Cyvar, his grief turned rage. The doors will not hold long. Already it begins to splinter, and with a crash collapses.

The tide streams in, threatening to swallow the group whole. Yet like a rock they do not budge and cut down their foe with renewed vengeance. Tyran goes blood drunk, wild in his rage. A spear pierces his side, and in return he shoves his sword into his attacker’s faceplate. Nothing slows him as he cuts down foe after foe, lost in the madness of grief.

Grizzled Balor dies, pierced through the heart and falls with his dagger still stuck in an elf’s chest. He curses even as he dies, giving the enemy one last insult. His death spurs the others on to pick up the slack, and the bodies rise once more. Outside, the night has slowly begun to fade. It has been hours now that they have fought, and it takes everything they have to not collapse in exhaustion.

Caliban and Caledor die next, each falling with a score around them. The three left do not budge from their position. Each suffers from wounds and bleeds, but they do not collapse. They cannot yet, not while life flows within them yet. They know it is their final stand however, and the Blackbloods know too. They are eager for the kill, and they bite and howl in hunger.

They are two now, for in her exhaustion Arasa cannot defend herself properly. A creature that looked akin to a hound leaps upon her and bites deep. By the time it is killed it is too late for her. She swings weakly as her blood pours forth, taking one more with her before she collapses. The monsters’ numbers have been thinned greatly. By now Cyvar assumes there must be only a few hundred left. Even that would destroy the Gilded Lands however, for each town they consumed would add to their numbers until they regrew their strength.

There is a sudden stillness, as if the very air was tense. The ground shakes beneath their feet as if an earthquake, and beyond the door they watch as one of the gleaming spires collapses in on itself. The tower falls upon their position, raining stone and glass down as it caves in the roof. The duo dive away, barely avoiding the rubble. Cyvar groans as he rolls over to cough up dirt and dust, wincing in pain. He’s broken something.

He hears Tyran charge at someone in rage. There is a strange swooshing sound, and he hears a heavy clatter. He doesn’t hear Tyran again, but instead footsteps. Slowly Cyvar pulled himself up, leaning heavily upon his sword. From the rubble emerges the red veiled woman. She makes a tsk sound, extending out a hand. Something flashes in the air and before Cyvar reacts he feels something pierce his chest. He looks down in confusion at the icicle embedded in his torso. He collapses backwards, wrapping a hand around the icicle.

The woman turns away then, snapping her fingers. Blackbloods crawl over the tower ruins to kill the last elf in the room. He is wounded, they see. Whatever form of thought they hold they believe completely and utterly that Cyvar will be an easy kill. The monster leap, jaws opened wide. They think it’s an easy kill.

They are wrong.

Cyvar roars as he swings upwards, carving the beasts in twain. He cannot die like this. He refuses too. Slowly he pulls himself up as the woman turns around. The woman turns around, waving her hand again. He expects it this time, and side steps the attack. Before she can send another he’s already upon her, and she must bring a conjured dagger of ice upwards to stop the blow. She struggles to stop his attack, and steps away to let the sword crash down.

Cyvar brings the blade up as she transforms the dagger into a spear, parrying her blow with a resounding clang. He shoves her back to the doorway, and Cyvar steps over the body of Tyran whose form was nailed to the tower by a shard of ice. He does not need to see the other four to know they’re dead. He’s the last one alive. He does not grieve. He lets their deaths fuel his rage.

With anger he strikes at the woman, though the blow is clumsy, and she pushes it aside with ease. In response she thrusts her spear forward with the speed of a viper, and it pierces his shoulder. He steps back in pain and must bring his sword up to defend against one of the monsters. As he decapitates the creature the woman strikes again. Another blow lands and Cyvar knows he is doomed. He struggles to step forward, panting heavily. Light he’s tired. His sword is heavy, and his helm is stifling. Slowly he pulls his helmet off, throwing it to the side. Around him the Blackblood creatures snarled, circling like vultures for the kill.

He has a plan, though it is desperate. It will probably kill him, but he’s running low on options. He feints left and draws her attention there, before whirling on his heel to strike at her right. She is too fast however and before he lands the blow he is stopped. He winces, eyes closing briefly as he tastes blood. He doesn’t need to look to know he’s been run through. He wants to fall, but he can’t. Not yet. His eyes open, and they are alight with rage.

“This is for all the lives you’ve taken witch.” He drops his sword, and as the blade falls he grabs the dagger at his side and thrusts up. He cannot see the woman’s expression behind the veil, though suspects it is surprised. He pulls out the dagger and thrusts again and again. It is clumsy and messy as the blood spills everywhere, but it is done. She collapses, taking Cyvar with her.

"They... are too much. Vannon... I have failed you." Her voice is weak before it fades and soon, she is still. Cyvar groans as he tries to pull himself up, then uses his dagger to saw at the haft of the ice spear. He cuts through and falls back hard, spitting up blood.

“Hah…I win. I win…” He pulls himself up, looking at the remaining Blackblood creatures. They bare their teeth and howl, but do not strike. Instead they turn away and flee, back to whatever hell spawned them. Perhaps they did know fear after all on some instinctual level. After all, they lost thousands this day against a mere twenty-one. Surely on some primordial level that triggered some instinct of survival, to flee the cursed place so many had died at.

Cyvar watches them flee through the main gate with a frown. Varrigan is there, kept upright only by the slain piled to his chest. They’re all dead. All but him, though he suspects he’ll be joining them soon. He sighs as he falls back to the ground, a hand clutching his wound. They bought time for Calithiel to escape. He realizes then they did more than that. They stopped an army.

He smiles at that. Twenty-one soldiers defeated an army of unstoppable, horrific creatures. Bal-Varos always bragged his troops were the greatest in the realm. Cyvar knows that to be false. It is a hollow victory, however. He’d never hear Varrigan’s laugh again. He’d never hear Tyran and Silora brag about children they’d never get to have, or the songs of Caliban. He’d never see any of them again. He throws his head back in the dirt then pauses. He sees it upside down and with some effort he rolls to look at it. An Indaris banner lay in the dirt, trampled by the Blackbloods and torn.

“Can’t have that…can we.” Slowly he picks himself up, stumbling over to the banner. He picks it up and looks around. The storm clouds overhead have begun to fade as dawn was starting to come. There, on the ramparts. One final defiance towards the Blackbloods, who had come to take the castle and instead found death.

His journey is hard for he must walk over a great many bodies. He falls twice, barely pulling himself up each time. Sweat beads his brow and blood oozes from a dozen cuts and wounds. Light he probably looks filthy. He glances around, spotting the smoldering remains of the Indaris gardens. One of the Void Elves probably burned them out of spite. Beyond that the various gazebos and other small structure were torn down. He cranes his neck behind him and sees the ruined base of the tower that fell. It had come from the western wing. The east fared little better as great cracks ran up the length of its walls. It would cost Aurelian a fortune to rebuild.

Yet rebuild he could, thanks to Cyvar and the twenty. It would take time and money, but life would return here. They had given theirs to make sure of it. He leans on the pole of the banner as he walks by the corpses of Droman and Argelos and sighs with regret. They had been so young and so eager to join the Indaris guard. Troublemakers the both of them, they nevertheless were some of the best fighters Cyvar had. Now they were gone.

He pulls himself up the stairs, falling to his knees now. He crawls slowly, step by agonizing step over dozens of corpses. It hurts to move, but his journey is almost done. He sees light at the top of the stairs and gets back up. Just a little further now, he thinks to himself. He’s tired…so very tired.  Just a little further and then he can rest. Just a short sleep is all.

He’s on the ramparts now. He picks his way past the bodies to the gatehouse. The walls are damaged, but they still stand. The same cannot be said of the bridges, however. Great holes are scattered over the stone, and in some parts the structure has collapsed entirely. He does not care, really. With effort he pushes aside a body and finds his destination. It is a place to plant a banner, and that was precisely what Cyvar did.

He falls with it as it goes into place, collapsing on the stone. Slowly he picks himself up to a sitting position, leaning against the banner now. He sighs, head propped up by the banner. He watches the sun’s rise over the distant mountains, Its light falling upon the ruined castle and upon the slain. Here, twenty-one stood against many. Here, twenty died so that thousands could live. Light, he hopes they never forget the name of the slain.

“It is…beautiful.” He talks to no one yet speaks aloud. The fires on the horizon have died down. The sun feels good on his skin. He was starting to feel cold. Somewhere a bird chirps. Funny; he hasn’t heard birds in weeks. The sound is nice. In the distance he sees faint figures, though he cannot make them out. He’s tired, and needs sleep.

Cyvar Wrenth closes his eyes.

[littleliv1]

For Crying Out Loud- Roger Taylor One Shot

A/n: In a bit of a Roger kick this week, I had a queen playlist going and the song “For Crying Out Loud” by meatloaf came on. It got my wheels turning, maybe Roger was too hooked onto the rock star image, started to really hate himself for it, and this is what I came up with. I know he wasn’t like this, just a thought, enjoy!

Summary: Roger was deep in his ways, his routines. Show, drugs, alcohol, hookups, repeat. When he meets Johns younger sister. He wants to change. For her.

Warnings: LOTS of drug and alcohol abuse, lots of angst, attempt of suicide, mentions of sex, sadness but some fluff!

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Things were blurry to him. He had done two lines already, his words were slurred, brain was fogged. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel. He had been going down hill for a while, but for the life of him, he was addicted to his new life style. It was his routine. They do a show and rock it, roger doesn’t miss a beat. They go to an after party where he does his drugs, and gets high off of his ass. Drinking his body weight. He sees a cute blond with tits for days, she flashes them to him, pulling her into a cab back to some cheep motel. They sleep together, and he wakes up hours before her and he leaves without a word. He always pays for the room, though. But that’s about it. He goes back to the band, for him to do it all again the next show. He was so deep into his shit, too deep to pull himself out. “Mate, you need to slow yourself,” they would say to him. “Fuck off, I’m fine. I’m alive, aren’t I?” He would say back, lighting a cigarette. “For now.”

It’s not like he didn’t want to stop, but he wasn’t happy. He always felt like something was missing. But this life style only partly filled that hole in his heart. He didn’t think there was anything that could fill it. He felt empty. That’s why he had contemplated taking his life one night. The guys had just left, he was alone. Again. He drug himself to his bathroom and turned the sink on, washing his face with cold water, in hope of washing away the pain of loneliness he felt. Leaving the sink on, he grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels, taking a few swigs, when he found some old pills. Tears streamed down his face as he uncapped the bottle, when he heard the door open. “Sorry Rog, I left my- ROGER!” Brian yelled as he down the bottle. Brian ran to him, taking the bottle of alcohol from him, and gagging him to make him throw up what he swallowed. Luckily, he threw up anything that was in his stomach. Brian sat there, as he held him, the smaller one sobbing. “Brian! I want to die!” He screamed. Brian started crying, how could they have let their bestfriend get this bad? Get to the point where he wanted to take his own life? Brian called the other guys in, the all sobbed with the two. They pulled Roger out of his bathroom, into the living room. From that moment on, they decided he’d never be alone again. They couldn’t afford this kind of publicity after Brian’s affair. They took him to Johns place, he wasn’t a big drinker anymore so Roger couldn’t get ahold of any. He stayed there until they figured out what to do with him.

—

The guys were at Johns place, all playing scrabble. Roger hadn’t been the same since. He rarely talked and wanted nothing more than to relapse and feel the burning yet warm feeling of whiskey down his throat again. He still smoked, it took the edge of slightly, sometimes that couldn’t even help. They out of recording and touring for a while until he was back on his feet. John invited you over because of that, the fact that he was home for a while. He hadn’t seen his baby sister for a while. You were only a few years younger. You weren’t known for drinking. You arrived and walked right in as John greeted you with a kiss to your head, introducing you to everyone. Roger looked up at you, and his heart stopped. “What are we playing? Scrabble?” You asked, setting your stuff down, and sitting by John and Freddie. “Good to see you again, dearest,” He said, offering you a cigarette. “Oh, no thank you, I don’t smoke.” You said, politely. “Fair enough.” He said. You all played scrabble for hours. “How about I cook? What do you all fancy?” You asked. You loved cooking, and cooking for others. They all agreed if baked chicken and potatoes, so you went in and started. Roger was with the rest of the guys. They were all talking and laughing about stupid memories from past shows. He couldn’t get his mind off of you, though. Your hair, your eyes, your smile. He had to talk to you. “I’m going to go see if she needs any help, I’m tired of sitting,” He said, standing up. No one really took notice. He walked into the kitchen, as you were struggling a bit to mash the potatoes due to your shortness. You were already on your tip toes. He smiled a bit. “Here, let me help with that,” He said, taking over for you. “Why thank you, Roger,” you said. The way you said his name, your voice was so innocent and pure. Hearing your voice gave him the same satisfaction of a cigarette. You started to prepare the cooked chicken by cutting it into strips. “Been cooking a while?” He asked you. “More of a Deacon woman thing, we all cook.” You replied, adding more butter and salt and pepper to the potatoes. He wanted to hold you. For what reason, he didn’t know. He wanted to be the reason you smiled. “When are you guys going back on tour? I’d love to come to a few shows,” you said, setting the table. He looked down, knowing he was the reason the band had paused. He didn’t want you to know that. He just stared at the creamy potatoes. “Soon, I suppose.” He said quietly, quiet enough to mask his shame. You snakes around him in between his arms to fetch the pot, bringing it to the table and setting it on a pot holder to not burn the table. That was the closest he got to holding you.

You had stayed for a few nights, getting closer to the guys, but mainly Roger. You took a liking to him. You had heard about his crazy life style, not to the degree that it truly was, but you knew he was a womanizer. You just didn’t want to be a victim of his game. Not that you let that cloud your judgement of him, he was a great guy, you just didn’t want to be hurt. While he, on He other hand, hasn’t wanted someone so bad. At the end of your stay, he gave you his number. You guys went on a few dates, but you weren’t letting it get more serious than that. Until one day.

—

He had taken you hiking. “So, (y/n). I have to tell you something.” He started, you all were sitting on a cliff, eating dinner while watching the sun set. “I know how you think of me.” He said, looking down. “And How is that?” You asked. “That you’re just another girl to me.” He said, setting down his bread, drinking the protein shake you made him. “I’ll be honest, I used to. But these last few months, I don’t know.” You said, drinking yours too. “I want to go public. As my girlfriend. I want to tell the world what you mean to me,” He said. Which was true. You meant more to him, more than you could ever understand. He hasn’t felt the need to smoke, drink, he hasn’t even thought about drugs since he met you. But he wasn’t ready to tell you that. His comment made you smile. “Okay,” you said. You shared a sweet kiss while the sun set.

—

Soon enough, they were back on tour. And Roger had something important to tell you. And he knew exactly how. “Guys, I’m in love with her.” He started. They were at the recording studio. John didn’t really like the idea that the guy who fucked more girls than his age was in love with his baby sister, but he could see you were the reason he wanted to live. Not not-be-dead, but actually live. He wasn’t going to get in the way of that. “I heard this song that I want to sing to her at the final show,” he started, handing Freddie the paper. “Will you teach my how to play piano?” He asked. Freddie stood up after grazing through the lyrics and pulled him into a hug. The final show was sold out at 50,000 people. The biggest show of the tour. So he worked on it the entire tour. Day and night. Singing and playing the piano until his fingers ached and his throat went raw. He had turned down any woman who came near him, turned down all alcohol. He felt great the entire tour. He was happy. Not only with you, he finally loved what his life became.

It came to the final show. All 50,000 chairs were filled. Banners that read “I love you roger!” “Her majesty” and all kinds of things. The gave their family members and other girlfriend a place at the edge of the stage. They were coming near the end of their show, when Freddie hushed the crowed as he started to set up a small scene with a pot of flowers, a white piano and a mic. You wondered what song was next, there were no more songs left on the album. When Roger started talking. “Heyo,” He started. High pitches screams came from the crowed. “I have a story to tell you guys,” He said, he stared to walk around on stage. “Once upon a time, there was a man. He wasn’t a good man. He did bad things, he hurt people. He thought of himself as worthless. He wasn’t happy, and he was convinced, he never would be,” he continued as the crowed kept cheering for him. “When one day, his friends planted a garden. Filled with flowers, bushes, trees. Beautiful garden,” he continued. “What is he talking about?” You question to the other girls next to you. They just smirked at you, they knew what you didn’t. “He saw this flower, beautiful flower in a beautiful garden,” He said, sitting at the piano. “This flower was a magic flower. It brought him 12 months of happiness. And anytime the man was sad, he looked at his flower, his beautiful flower in his beautiful garden, and no matter what the flower was doing, he became happy. He wanted to become a better man.” He said. He found your eyes past the curtain. “And the beautiful flower in the beautiful garden, is here. And this is for her.” He started to play as everyone cheered. You knew it was for you.

He sang his heart out and the words touched you at specific lyrics.

“For crying out loud, you know that I love you,”

“For that I thank you, for taking in the sun, when I’m feeling cold,”

“For pulling me away when I’m starting to fall,”

“For taking and for giving and for playing the game,”

“For praying for my future in the days that remain,”

“For crying out loud, you know that I love you.”

At the last few lyrics, Freddie pulled you to the stage. “My flower, I’m in love with you, thank you for being you.” Roger said, kissing you passionately in front of over 50,000. You were sobbing of happiness. “I love you too, my sweet boy, I love you so much.”

Holy fuck it was much more depressing that I anticipated but I’m proud of this. Is it too long? I don’t know. But I hope you guys like it! Requests are open, I can comfortably write about depressing shit like that, so if there’s anything specific you’d want to read let me know xoxo

*Also I don’t own any of the lyrics in his, it’s all by the band meat loaf with a song called for crying out loud! Good song! Good band!*