#anyway sketched this out Real quick because i gotta go to Sleep | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

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

The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

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

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

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

Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

#indruck #meet ugly #indrid cold/ duck newton #taz amnesty #reader request

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 15

First

Ladybug woke up the next morning to her phone going off like an alarm. She groaned and slowly reached to her bedside table, gently nudging away fabrics in search of her phone. She found it, eventually, and tapped her finger on the screen repeatedly in search of the snooze button, but it didn’t seem to be working.

She grumbled to herself, snatching the phone off the table and looking to turn it off…

Only to realize that it was a good hour before she’d set her alarm to go off for her meeting with Audrey Bourgeois. She rubbed her eyes tiredly as she watched another round of notifications come in.

Ugh. That’s what she gets for turning her ringer on at night in case her friends had nightmares. She silenced her phone and fell back in her bed.

After ten minutes of staring at the ceiling and attempting to trick her brain into thinking she was asleep, she reluctantly pushed herself out of her bed. Phone in hand and blanket around her shoulders, she shuffled downstairs for a cup of coffee.

She waved to Chloe absently when she saw her in the kitchen making a bowl of cereal and got a hum in response. That was their entire conversation, though. Chloe always seemed to know when exactly it was a good time to tease her or not without Ladybug ever saying a word.

Maybe she should have figured out that Chloe was some kind of minor telepath.

Whatever.

She scrolled through her phone as she waited for her pot of coffee to finish.

The Parisians on TikTok were going wild.

There was a group freaking out about Chat’s account (because it was cute, but also because he might actually be a dog person considering that was the first thing he’d uploaded). Carapace’s video was full of comments analyzing their group dynamic or pitying the people who had been on shift at the time. Rena’s account had thousands of people screaming about having actual information on the miraculous holder’s daily lives for once and people attempting to use the footage to figure out where they were living. Chloe’s video had people speculating on what she would be doing or commenting on their day-to-day outfits.

And Ladybug’s…

It was full of people saying things along the lines of “of course Ladybug would have a lifestyle account”.

Part of her was kind of offended. Sure, her persona was definitely different than her and if she knew a person like ‘Ladybug’ in real life she probably wouldn’t be all that close to them, she’d made it that way on purpose… but still. It kind of hurt.

Then again, there was another part of her that was tempted to sing. Her ruse was working! She had accurately guessed what would be in character for her persona! Nice!

She poured herself a cup of her quickly cooling coffee and headed up to get properly dressed for the day.

Ladybug couldn’t help but be a little anxious as she changed from her red and black pajamas into a completely different red and black ensemble. Her mind wandered to all the messages she was getting about how consistent her persona was.

If she didn’t give her persona any kind of depth, how long would people keep falling for it?

She didn’t know. She was out the door in minutes and heading off to the park where Audrey had wanted to meet, the prototype of the dress she’d made for a ball in the United States in her hands. She had to remind herself constantly that, even if the stuff she’d used for the prototype was just there to simulate the real thing and wasn’t all that expensive, she still needed everything to be intact when she gave it to Audrey.

She was a little distracted during the meeting, her mind on what to do about her persona, so it was a good thing that Audrey’s only complaint was that the prototype fabric was a little coarse. That could be fixed.

The persona thing…? Not so much.

Rena was already suspicious, Ladybug could see it in the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly whenever she let little things slip through.

(Thanks for telling her that everyone has personas, Carapace, now she had to be even more careful.)

She forced herself to relax. There wasn’t anything to gain from worrying about people figuring out just how fake she was outside of a possible akumatization.

No. Instead she would concentrate on something she could fix: Hawkmoth. If she figured out his identity they could beat him, and then she would never have to worry about personas ever again.

The moment she got home she walked over to the conspiracy board. She glared at the millions of closeups of every part of Hawkmoth’s body.

~Want to skip some calculations? Here’s your chance! I nerded out a little, sorry~

Hawkmoth was about 230cm tall in costume. That’s what Rena had found out through calculating his height in comparison to some of Nino’s plates in the photo, but Ladybug had (stupidly) offered to do the math to see how tall he would be without the miraculous stuff...

She knew the man’s shoes gave him a little extra height than most normal shoes would; she’d seen them up close, they were practically heels.

She spent literal hours sitting down with her computer at the kitchen table, a cold look on her face.

(Thank the kwamis for Chloe, because every time someone came near she would quickly come up to play interference. Ladybug didn’t know if she was doing this for their sake or hers, but either way it was appreciated.)

She scrolled through page after page of shoes, trying to find a model that looked close to the fashion disaster Hawkmoth was wearing.

Did she have a theory for the type of shoe they were? Yes. Was she going to just go with that? Of course not. She was Ladybug! Ladybug doesn’t GUESS --!

Maybe she’d been pretending to be Ladybug for too long. She made a mental note to go out with friends as a civilian sometime.

Still, it took until midnight to find a model that was similar enough for her to feel comfortable using it as a base. She printed out the picture and put it beside the picture of Hawkmoth’s shoes and nodded to herself. Great. His shoes added about 3 centimeters to his height.

Now onto the next part of height calculations.

Miraculi gave everyone extra height.

She didn’t know for sure if it was a flat rate or proportional, so she went out on the town, looking for some kind of measuring tape -- the type she used for work wasn’t long enough for a person’s actual height. She managed to find a place unfortunate enough to be open past midnight and she and the person checking out her item shared ‘I wish I was dead’ expressions.

It was here that she dragged everyone out of bed to measure their heights as civilians versus as heroes (without shoes, obviously).

They were clearly very annoyed by this, but it was nearing three o’clock at this point and she had spent an entire day looking at shoes. The look on her face was absolutely murderous. They opted to just quietly do what she said so they could go back to sleep as soon as possible.

5 centimeters. Everyone grew by 5 centimeters.

She wasn’t quite sure why this happened, nor did she really care. It was just important for her calculations.

~Calculations over~

So he was anywhere from 215 to 225 centimeters. Unreasonably tall, really. There could only be a few people of that height in Paris.

After doing some searching she figured out that there were probably about 5 people in all of Paris that were that height.

She just had to… find them? Somehow?

Whatever. She should also do some quick things to distinguish Hawkmoth from the others. She grabbed an extra sheet of printer paper and started writing things down.

A semi-muscular build, possibly bald, stupidhead, terrible fashion sense...

She fell back on the couch for a quick breather.

She was getting a headache. What was it from? The caffeine? Dehydration? Was she clenching her teeth? Who knows.

Ladybug pulled her phone out and checked the time…

Four-thirty.

She had time to finish that sketch for Jagged Stone before their eight o’clock appointment. It would be close, though.

She changed while she waited for her coffee to brew (How many pots had she had since yesterday? Four? Five? Whatever, it was probably fine) and then got to work.

She looked up a while later when Chloe walked down for breakfast. It was seven now, then. She would need to leave soon…

“Kwami, Ladybug, you look awful!”

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes falling back to the sketch. It didn’t have enough… yeah, that was the end of the sentence. It was too plain, but she couldn’t seem to --.

She felt hands rest over her cheeks and she looked up to see Chloe standing over her. “You need to sleep.”

“I need to get to an appointment.”

“I WILL use Sticky Situation if I have to.”

Ladybug wasn’t impressed.

“Pollen, buzz on.”

Ladybug blinked at the miraculous holder in front of her and then gasped. Of course! She’d forgotten accessories! No wonder it felt empty!

Kwami, she really was tired, huh?

She put some quick accessories down, careful to make all the items kind of tiny so Jagged wouldn’t be able to tell the ideas weren’t fully fleshed out yet, and then smiled at Chloe as she got up to leave. “Thanks, Queenie. I gotta go, I’ll sleep later.”

“But --!”

She was already gone.

The meeting went well. Yay. She kept her job.

She walked home, happy to just be done with that really long day --.

She randomly chanced a look in the window as she passed and winced when she saw Chloe waiting for her on the couch. She was far too tired to deal with a lecture. She transformed and flew into her room through the window.

… now what? Should she sleep?

Nah. She had patrols that night. Might as well just stay up through it all.

She yawned into her hand and headed down to Rena’s room. She might as well tell her what she’d figured out.

She knocked her head against the wooden door instead of her fist in an attempt to wake herself up a little and smiled when it opened.

“You look…”

“I’ve been told. Anyways, I’ve finished doing math and stuff. Come look.”

Ladybug grabbed Rena’s arm before the other could even say anything and pulled her down to the kitchen where she’d done the calculations.

Rena looked over everything for a few moments before her eyes widened.

“... hey, quick question, why does it say he has a ‘condom-head’?”

That got Ladybug awake. Her eyes found their way to the list of attributes she’d written while sleep-deprived.

Her eyes went wide with horror.

Because there, in handwriting that was definitely hers, were the words ‘stupid-looking condom-head’.

Fuck.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write

#a miraculous tiktok account #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #rena rouge #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #carapace #chat noir #adrien agreste #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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kryptsune · 6 years ago

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🌼Alright, heeeere we go. After much deliberation and tons of design doodles, I have scrapped this is a good representation of what my multiverse version of HorrorFell is all about. As I said before this is going to be more Eldritch and supernatural horror. I did say before that the other one focused more on the psychology of it but I have to argue now that this is really that AU and I will explain that briefly like I have in the past. This is a lot to unpack to stick with me!

What you see above is Red’s occult/ ceremonial outfit he does not wear this huge imposing headdress all the time. First, it is probably super heavy and second, it’s only worn by the cult members, which no one knows what monsters are actually initiated. I don’t know if you can tell or not (sorry for the quick sketches) but that headdress is a Gaster Blaster skull. I had a lot of fun drawing this idea since I love all that kind of occult and secret society stuff. I will not be ashamed to admit that I have been super inspired by four main materials for Horrorfell. They are Bloodbourne, Fran Bow, The Order, and The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. All great shows and games that are definitely worth a play/watch if you love this kind of stuff. Onto the story (buckle up cause the angst train is pulling into the station).

Horrorfell takes place after a pacifist run by Frisk. The story briefly goes as follows. Frisk ends up in the Underworld (Underground) and befriends the monsters and wants to help them. She never dies once either. It is basically a way watered down version of WTU in essence. I will point out that Red is still a killer and that becomes worse after Frisk’s absence ( I will explain this in a bit). Once reaching the end of her journey the monsters refuse to let her be that final soul. They would rather wait and figure out something else. Frisk promises to return to them and set them free. She is like 18-19 by the way. Asriel sacrifices himself to that end to see her leave through the barrier only the humans capture the poor girl after she leaves. They conclude that she is not mentally stable due to her insistence that monsters are real and throw her into an asylum to be “treated”. We all know what that means.

Nearly 5+ years later and she manages to escape finding herself once again in the Underworld only it is far different from what she remembers. At this point, she is questioning whether anything is real or not. After being “treated” for so long she doesn’t quite know which reality is real. As Red (aka Saw) points out: “Ya really don’t know believe what happened do ya?”

Frisk is the one person that gets him to turn a new leaf when it comes to his numb feelings in the beginning. It’s harder to go against what was originally natural and he struggles with overcoming his base instinct. That guilt hits him heavy now that he feels even guiltier because he didn’t care that he’s even forgotten the victims. That’s always going to haunt him. He only cares about two people in their world and that is his brother Eldritch and Frisk so everyone else is on his kill list so to speak. I would think that he would use others as a means to an end. If I keep him yandere like Blade, though not as insane, then he would do anything to see her again including becoming a ruthless killer again to do it. Get the souls, break the barrier, find the girl. Essentially he’s more of a calculating yandere in this case. So rather than being socially acceptable to kill humans, his dilemma in beating his nature with his yandere extremes and how he’s got to hold himself back. Frisk is just the person to help him recognize that he’s gotta broaden his view and that comes with accepting his flawed nature. It’s that whole killing makes me feel good/ numb idea. When accepting your flaws you end up going through lots of denial initially, being yandere, he’s going to see his view as right, even justified.

Frisk’s Mental Demons:

The psychological toll on Frisk is great as she has been told constantly that she made up her time in the Underworld in order to shut herself away into a fantasy world. A world where she had a family... where she is loved and wanted. This happens a lot like the “Doctors” continuously try to refute her experiences or sensations medically. Every time she goes to sleep in the Underworld she ends up back at the Asylum tied down kicking and screaming and she only wakes up again when she is sedated. Rinse and repeat. The question is... is it real? Or rather which is real. The doctors go on to state that her dark state of mind twisted her original concept behind her “family” making them this eldritch styled horror. He also goes onto explain that the reason she is so drawn and close to Red is that it is her “flirting with death”. That she is accepting that outcome because if she continues to resist treatment she will die and the moment she trusts him in her “fantasy” that will be the end. (on a side note what a jerk). Anyway, these kinds of situations happen a lot and even sometimes cross over through auditory and visual hallucinations, at least that is what the doctor says they are. I will give an example of this.

Red zaps her with his old joy buzzer for old time sake. Not to freak her out or anything but after that encounter and she is safe with the Bros. She falls asleep and she ends up back at the asylum, whether it is a nightmare or not. She ends up crying over how real her "hallucination" feels and she talks about the buzzer. The doctors explain to her that it was an external stimulus from her shock therapy. In other words, it’s all in her head. Red tries to comfort her when this happens trying to get her to believe that he is real but he doesn’t push that on her considering how broken he sees she is. A lot of times she ends up in tears wrapped in his arms and he just holds her in a comforting way. My heart.

The Occult/World:

The cult as I keep referring to it as is a group of powerful monsters. I am not going to say too much about them as I don’t want to ruin certain things. However, they believe humans to be their salvation while the rest of the monsters believe that they are the angels of death. They will kill humans on sight, of course, they want to live in denial of their horrible deeds. This is where the idea of hear no evil, see no evil and speak no evil comes in. Each monster falls into one of these camps even going so far as to mutilate themselves to do it. EVERYONE HAS GONE NUTS. Unlike the cult that wishes to break the barrier, the rest want to stay hidden from the beasts above. Red and Eldritch are under see no evil hence the blindfolds. Even though Red is a part of the cult however he has to play the part, the rest of them do as well. The question is which 7 monsters are a part of it?

There is no monarchy in this since it was dissolved. It is rumored that the cult have extraordinary abilities that far surpass that of regular Boss monsters. They are considered “consorting with evils beyond their control”. I will say that Reds faith in the order is quite strong... only time will tell if their intentions are what has been advertised. The cult believes that humans are the key to their salvation and that they will summon a god to rule both the surface and the underworld. Basically bringing hell to earth. In keeping with the eldritch horror vibe. I have that “god” being an unholy amalgamation of Asriel, God of Hyper death, Chara, and Gaster not to mention that the rest of the cult can become unholy eldritch abominations as well. Reds got the Gaster blaster beast vibe with him but he also has a million eyes when his sockets go dark. A whole bunch of disturbing eyes fill his skull. (If you have ever watched Soul Eater it’s very Asura like)

Each member is associated with a major arcana as well. In Reds case, it is being a seer which in essence is seeing the truth or judgment. That is all I am going to say about them for now. Even Eldritch and Frisk don’t know that Red is in the cult by the way. I am still working on his full body design as everything I have done I am not all that satisfied with. His headshot though will stay the same I am really happy with those. I am thinking of leaning more Bloodbourne. If you have any suggestions feel free to drop them in the comments! Sorry for the massive lore dump! <3

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY PERMISSION IT IS NOT FOR YOUR USE. IF YOU LIKE MY WORK PLEASE REBLOG INSTEAD! It helps me so much! It makes such a difference.💙

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ella-se-vuelve-loca · 5 years ago

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Last One, I Swear! | Erick Brian Colón

Sooo I noticed I haven’t done any stories for Erick yet lol for now, the stories I write for him won’t have any of that dirty stuff y’all like lmaooo sorry x

Warnings: None lol just pure fluff

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Wanna be tagged for future fics?

“Alright, one more!” Erick yelled as he lost another game of Mario Kart, again. “C’mon, I’ve - I’ve got it this time. I can feel it.” He went to start another match, but I stopped him. “Erick, let’s just turn off the game.” I said. “No, I refuse to accept defeat.” He got comfortable on the floor and had a frown sketched on his face. “Estas bien, mi amor?” I asked him. “No, it’s fine. It’s - it’s all good. Everything’s great.” Yeah, that wasn’t sarcastic at all. I looked at the time and realized how late it was. Yikes! The boys have to wake up early tomorrow for an interview. We were in his hotel room playing video games and ordered in some food to eat. We didn’t realize how late it was getting. “Erick, mira.” I showed him the time on my phone.

“I just.. oh.. ya son las 2:25 de la mañana?” He realized. I nodded and his head dropped. “We should head to sleep. I don’t want you to be grumpy when I come back to wake you up.” He sighed and slowly started to get up. “Yeah, I guess we do have to wake up early tomorrow..” I kept a smile on my face as I thought about how much Erick gets involved in this game and can never beat me. What can I say? I’m pretty damn good at it.

“Okay, fine let’s go to… porqué estas sonriendo asi?” I just shook my head and stood up. “Nothing, why?” I asked him and chuckled. I went to go and grab my hotel key card. “Crees que no puedo hacerlo, ¿verdad?” He accused and I just laughed, not being able to hold it in. “How dare you.” He had a small smile on his face. “It’s not my fault you keep losing. You’re just not that good as I am.” I flipped my hair and laughed. “Alright, grab your controller. We’re doing this right now.” I raised an eyebrow and looked at the time once again. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t wanna hear you complain that you didn’t win against me again.” I laughed. “No, don’t give me that. I’ll show you that I can win at least one race.” He looked determined. Then again, so did the other times.

“C’mon mi amor, just one more. I’ll prove myself! I know you’re tired y quiero ir a dormir, but this is it. I promise.” I looked at him and his eyes bore into my own. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t say no to him. I mean, have you seen his eyes? They’re way to pretty to say no to. “Okay, fine. Let’s do it.” I grabbed my controller and sat back down next to him. He went to look for a new map to start the race. “How about a little wager? To keep things interesting.” He suggested and raised his eyebrow. I sat up and smiled. “Oh, you like that sound of that, don’t you? Alright, loser has to.. eat a tablespoon of coffee.” I just scoffed. “Is that it?”

“What do you mean that’s it? It’s a pretty fair bet, if you ask me.” Erick defended himself. I just sat there next to him thinking about my options. I could just go to my room and sleep, like we’re supposed to be doing right at this moment. Or, I could just beat him and call it a night. Decisions, decisions. “Princesa, por favor. I just wanna play.” Erick whined. “Okay okay! I’ll play.” I said as he clicked on to start the race. I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “Good luck.” I smiled and looked at the screen, getting ready to start. “You’re smiling now, just wait until I win this game. Let’s do this.” The intro to the track started and we both got ready.

“I’m ready. Are you ready to eat my dust? I’ll be so fast, Sonic can’t keep up with my speeds. I’ll be sorry to even - .. oh shit.” By the time Erick looked back at the screen, the race was literally 3 seconds away from starting. “You should’ve been paying attention.” I comment. “Yeah, whatever. Shut up.” And we were off. I noticed him behind already as the rest of the racers passed him up. “You know you need to - ”

“Yes, I know I need to accelerate at the start.“ He frowned. “I can see someone is not enjoying this round as much.” I laughed.

“Well, you were distracting me!”

“No I was not!”

“You did too!”

This is so childish. I love moments like this with him though. “Alright, focus. You’re trying to psych me out right now, aren’t you? Well, it’s not gonna - don’t laugh at me like that.” He laughed. I can’t hold it in! This is too funny! “I’m sorry, babe. I told you this would happen.” He leaned in closer to the tv as I continued to win this race. “Okay, you asked for it now.”

A few seconds of silence filled the air between us, until I heard him mumble. “Where did everyone go?” I could see his body moving side to side as he made turns. “Are you in last place?” I asked him, smiling. “No! I’m just.. trailing behind, that’s all. It’s all part of the technique.” Okay… now I’m starting to feel bad. I mean, sure it’s fun to beat him and win, but he seriously hasn’t won a single game against me and it’s starting to become sad. Hmm… maybe just this once.

“Yes, when I.. oh! Oh yeah! I’m coming for you now, mi amor.” I quickly looked over to his side of the screen and noticed that he got a golden mushroom. “See, look at that. Look at that! I told you, all part of the - ”

“Oh please! That mushroom must have felt bad and gave pity on you.” I joked.

“No, it wasn’t a pity mushroom!” He chuckled. Alright, time to slow down my movements. I started going a little more slower, not that he would notice, so he could catch up to me. “You’re laughing now nena, pero no vengas a llorar cuando pierdas.” I glanced at the map to see where each player is and noticed him coming close. Now I just gotta not pass him up. “Yes! C’mon, Mario keep going!” Did I forget to mention that he picked baby Mario as his character?

“Finally! 1st place!” He quickly passed me and I stayed behind. “No!” I joked along. He deserves a win anyways. He looks so excited. “Ay Díos mio it’s right there! I believe in you - “ He gasped and moved his body to the right. Peach was trying to pass him up and he wasn’t having it. “No. no, don’t you dare! Go go go!” He continued to try and block her so she won’t pass him up. “How am I in 8th place?” I asked out loud, just now realizing that I haven’t really been paying attention to my side of the screen because I couldn’t stop staring at Erick’s reaction to finally being in first.

I could easily pass him up with the 3 mushrooms I just got, but I can’t do that to him right now. He’s probably dreamed about this moment of beating me. I don’t wanna take that away from him right now.

“Aww 8th place, is that right? It is over! It is over (Y/N)! Forget it! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” He’s almost there! Just a few more seconds… oh my God.. he actually did it. Erick got first place!

“I finally did it! I finally beat you!” He cheered. I just chuckled and continued on racing. “Aww you’re still racing. Oh, it’s alright! You just go as fast as you can, okay?” He teased until I made it passed the finish line. “Hey, there you go! Look at you! You finished the race.” He smiled as he looked at the screen as his character received the trophy. “Oh, look at that. Baby Mario takes home the gold.” I raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Are you happy?” I asked him.

“Well, of course I’m happy now, are you kidding me?” He started gloating in my face and I couldn’t help but feel happy for him. “Are you done?” I laughed and he shook his head. “No, I’m not quite done yet. First I have to..” He stood up and starting dancing all over his room. “Do my victory dance!” He jumped up and down, waved his hands in the air and did any silly dance he could think of on the spot.

“I believe that a certain someone has to eat a teaspoon of coffee because that was part of the deal.” He said as he went to sit back down next to me. I rolled my eyes and went to get up, but he grabbed my hand. I looked at him in confusion. “Wait wait wait… not yet. Real quick, let’s watch the playback.” Oh this little fucker. “Why?”

“Why? So I can rewatch my victory over and over again, of course!” He quickly pressed replay and the video started. “See? Technique. What did I tell.. oh yeah, beautiful. Did you see that comeback? I went from 12th to 3rd just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I have to admit, good job on your part princesa. Good job.”

“Hey, this is only your first win. I’ve won so much more than you.” I chuckled. “Alright, let’s not forget who won here, okay? Let’s not lose sight of the big picture here.” He smiled and continued watching the playback. “Oh amor, that’s brutal. They just kept coming at you, huh?” Other characters keep hitting me with shells, so that’s how I ended up in 8th. “Yes! Look at that.” Baby Mario was about to pass my character up. “Admit it. There was no chance you could have.. ” He stopped, now realizing that I 3 mushrooms and I didn’t bother to use them.

“Amor? Is that a.. wait a minute. You could’ve totally used it by..” Realization now dawning on his face as he looked at me. “Nena?” I didn’t meet his eyes and I started to back away from him. A laugh wanting to escape my mouth. “No no no, mirame. Look me in the eye and tell - don’t cover your mouth like that! No, ven aquí.” He held onto my shoulders and tried to hold me against him.

“Don’t back away from me like that, tell me the truth!” He turned my face so I could look at him. “Did you.. let me..” I cut him off with a quick kiss, catching him off guard and pulled myself away from him laughing. I ran to go grab my hotel key card and towards the door.

“Hey, come back here! Oh, you’re gonna get it!” He laughed chasing after me.

Hey! It’s the end of the story! Lmao I hope y’all enjoyed! If you liked it, please make sure to send some love to my writing! Comment, reblog, and or like please! I love reading what you have to say!

#cnco imagines #erick brian colon imagine #I HOPE I DELIEVERED #I HOPE THIS ISNT SHIT LMAOOOO #I TRIED TO WRITE SOME MORE FLUFF FOR Y'ALL LMAO #he's so competitive lmaooo #erick brian colon

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shieldfoss · 5 years ago

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Second Session - a wolf hunt

The same people again - Gnome Artificer (Gart), Half-Elf Sorcerer (Heso), Half-Elf Monk (Hemo), and Drow Sorcerer (Deso)

The obvious thing to do, having been to Vemb and seen the tracks of people being dragged into the sea, is to get your hands on a boat. Those are expensive.

So as a purely instrumental secondary choice, you gotta go wolf hunting for that quick cash. The Warden of the March offers a bounty on wolf pelts, and a significantly bigger bounty on an answer to this question: Why are the wolves killing his sheep but not eating them?

Side tip for you, DM to DM, that I tried out and it worked out super well: If you have a solid random encounter table, roll encounters ahead of time. It lets you flow these things completely into each other in an extremely organic way. I got lizardfolk hunters (There were two: Nightspear and Ebony/Longtooth); 6 wolves; 1 lone worg (Likely to run at first sign of trouble); and a Yuan-ti Patrol.

A powerful storm is roaring over the land and everything is getting soaked, but hearty adventurers being who they are, and the Warden’s lands being only a short brisk march west of Vesterhavn, the party sets out late in the afternoon because Low Light Vision means never having to apologize -_-.

So pretty late in the evening, after dusk, they come to the first of the warden’s sheepsteads[1] as they’re about ready to turn in for the night. The party call out to the last farmhand before he heads inside and have a brief talk where they cover the essentials - sheep are being mutilated, wolf attacks aren’t the worlds biggest mystery to shepherds and they’ve had a few before but recently - within the last two or three months, say - they’ve had some really weird attacks where the sheep have been savaged and their heads completely destroyed, but the carcasses left uneaten. Nobody has actually seen any wolves do this peculiar thing but what else could it be? And either case, the bounty is for wolf pelts.

The party heads for the site of the latest attack to search for clues, but as they crest a hill they spot through gloom and darkness two lizardfolk standing exactly at the site of the attack. Nightspear and Ebony/Longtooth are skilled hunters both but (sans darkvision or lowlight vision) they’re about to quit for the day and make camp when the party sees them - though at this distance, the two lizardfolk are just two large humanoid shapes.

A quick whispered conference. A decision to sneak closer.

Once they’re close enough to overhear the lizardfolk, they realize that only Heso speaks draconic (almost instinctually, the knowledge transferred through his bloodline) and that’s the tongue the lizardfolk are talking in - nothing interesting though. “Bad hunt.” “Sleep soon.”

Because the dark elf player is Like That (does literally every group have a player who is like that) he decides to sneak around and approach the lizard folk from the side as the rest of the party makes their presence clear and approach the lizard folk directly. (He doesn’t even have Sneak Attack! He’s👏🏻A👏🏻Sorcerer👏🏻!)

So anyway, they get to talking - the lizardfolk are surprised to see them, but not immediately hostile, especially since the party hails them on approach which rather does tend to signal that you’re not planning an assault. They’re here as hunters, they say. Hunters of what? Hunters of anything, what’ve you got?

At this point in the conversation, the lizardfolk look at the party. There’s a gnome in tinkerer’s clothes under a waterlogged traveler’s cloak. There’s a half-elf in court robes (under a waterlogged traveler’s cloak,) There’s a half-elf literally without any weapons. They don’t any of them have knives. They have one single ranged weapon among them (there’s another in the tinkerer’s pack where the lizardfolk cannot see it.) “We’re here to find out what killed this sheep and hunt it down to take its teeth. What brings you people here?”

The party claims to be hunters, too.

So anyway it’s at this point Nightspear realizes there’s somebody sneaking up on them.

Nightspear is not a subtle type of person. Nightspear does not manage to hide that he knows, he instantly freezes, as would be very appropriate if e.g. a deer was about to spot him.

Everybody else notices Nightspear freeze except Ebony/Longtooth who has been the main conversationalist and so has taken a step forward and has his back to Nightspear.

Several things happen at once.

Heso asks Nightspear “What’s happening?” (I honestly have no idea if he doesn’t know (because he hasn’t paid attention) or if he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t know to gain some imagined advantage or if he’s trying to keep Nightspear focused on him or what the fuck)

Everybody else looks directly at the spot Nightspear’s body language implies he’s worried about

Ebony/Longtooth realizes something real weird could be about to happen and starts turning around

Deso stands up from the tall grass he’s been sneaking through because obviously that’s what you do if you’ve been caught I guess?

WHY ARE YOU EVEN CLOSE ENOUGH TO BE SPOTTED

YOU’RE A SORCERER YOU DON’T HAVE SNEAK ATTACK

WHAT IS THIS

I DON’T UNDERSTAND PLAYERS

Deso has a plan though. I seriously have no idea why he decided to sneak up on the fucking lizardfolk, but having been caught at it, he has a plan. It’s not actually a bad plan. Deso is going to play this off like it’s nothing. He’s just going to stand up and rely on the fact that he is that cool and collected, plus normalcy bias, to convey that nothing weird is going on, what, doesn’t your people play sneaking games?

Through the high natural Charisma required of sorcerers and an astounding roll of the dice, he pulls this off. Nightspear is too embarrassed at letting a threat get this close to make something of it, and Ebony/Longtooth, who’s just slightly late at realizing what’s going on, takes his cues from Nightspear rather than insert himself into this whole thing.

So Ebony/Longtooth turns back to Heso and asks, if they’re such great hunters, where should you go to find the beast that did this attack?

This is the part where the party realizes they’re not actually hunters, they’re people on a hunt which is not exactly the same. Well, everybody except Gart who, it turns out, is actually a hunter, or at least has the Survival skill.

It’s been 14 days since the attack. It’s in the night. There’s a storm on. It’s a guess and a gut feeling more than evidence, but it’s the opposite direction of the sheepstead which is definitely not the best direction for a monster to come from. Gart avoids the critical mistake of appearing underconfident by explaining, just points south west and says “That way.” The lizardfolk are surprised the gnome, absent any real search, instantly came to the same conclusion they had reached after half an hour at the site and concede that maybe these strangers are hunters, just real weird hunters.

Well what are you hunting here? We thought all small-folk were herders and planters?

Actually we’re hunting the same thing you lizards are, what a coincidence, wanna join up?

A bit of negotiation ensues, but after the lizardfolk are assured the small folk only want the skins bul will happily leave flesh and teeth to the lizards, they all agree to hunt together.

At midnight, the weather improves markedly - the rain stops and the wind stills except for a mild warm breeze blowing in from the north.

In the much improved visibility, they find six wolves. Nothing much to say about the ensuing combat except this: One wolf manages to flee, and the remaining wolves manage to deal enough damage that the (first level) party decides to do a short rest.

The lizardfolk declare that five wolves is plenty of prey for them at this time and they will head back home with their catch after the skins have been taken off for the players to return with.

At this point, one of the players (I forget who) says: “Wait. What do their feet look like? Do we still have the sketch from the beach? (Yes they still have the sketch. The feet look extremely similar to those of the oceanic raiders, though perhaps larger)

In the ensuing conversation, the party manages to, through the translationary efforts of Heso

(1) make fun of the lizardmen for not being part of the gold-based economy,

(2) ask a lot of questions about the ocean that the lizards, sixty miles west, have no answers to,

(3) imply a lot of things about cannibalism and

(4) insult the lizardmen for being such pathetic hunters that they’ll be satisfied bringing back 5 wolves.

Apparently the goal was to goad them into sticking around and helping out with further hunting?

Player Characters I Swear 2 Fucking God

Listen up you little punk, Lizardfolk have a lot of respect for magic, and a lot of respect for dragons, and a lot of respect for dragon-magic sorcerers, but if you think they’re gonna sit here and take that shit from your can’t track can’t carry can’t stab non-hunter ass, you’ve got another thing coming.

Anyway they part ways, not amicably. (The lizardfolk head south, not west, despite earlier having claimed to come from the west.)

It’s at this point as the lizardfolk are leaving that Deso says “I stand up and take a good look around.”

Far away, in the direction the fleeing wolf ran, he sees a wolf and a separate, significantly bigger, wolf. The two wolves turn and disappear behind a hill, and the party decides that, since they’ve got some skins anyway and it’s only a few hours back to town, and they’re kind of low on spells, perhaps discretion is the significantly better part of valor right now?

[1] I swear sheepstead is a word but my browser is putting a big ol’ red line under it.

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mcuamerica · 5 years ago

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Too Late (Peter Parker)

** MAJOR SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS**

Warnings: Angst; some fluff; mentions of violence

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Summary: Peter’s class trip takes a turn towards the worst, and that’s not even the start of it. (Based on Spider-Man: Far From Home)

Word Count: 3260

“Dad please, just let me go. I’m gonna be late if I don’t catch the train soon.” You said to your father as you pulled away from him. You couldn’t wait to go on this school trip. After you came back from “the blip” your father had been protective over you. Not only that, but he was working more too. He said he had been doing something big and it was taking a lot of his time. This trip was going to be a good break for you to get away from him and his protectiveness for a little bit.

“Okay, okay I’m letting you go now. Make sure you tell me when you land okay?” He asked while walking you to the door to your apartment.

You nodded and opened the door. “Of course dad, I’ll let you know.” You said and waved before walking out the door, closing it behind you. Shaking your head, you walked down the stairs and across the street to the station.

***

“Hey, (Y/N), would you mind switching seats with me? I’m uh... weird with middle seats and I don’t like window seats. Peter would switch if you wanted the window seat just..” Ned started and you cut him off by nodding.

“Ned, hey, yeah I’ll switch seats with you.” Ned nodded and got out of your way. You gave him a small smile and apologized to Betty before walking over to where Peter was sitting. “You’re cool with me sitting here yeah?” You asked and bit the inside of your lip. “I’m just gonna watch movies the whole time so you don’t need to worry about me sleeping or anything.” You said, a small blush covering your cheeks that Peter failed to notice. You weren’t a very talkative person but around Peter, you tended to ramble.

“Yeah, Ned doesn’t like seats on the inside... that is what he told you right?” Peter asked skeptically. You nodded and took a seat next to him, slipping your backpack underneath the seat in front of you. “What uh... what movies are you planning on watching?” He asked, looking down at his hands and fiddling with his fingers.

“Honestly? Star Wars.” You said and gave him a shy smile. “I love the movies but haven’t been able to watch them recently. So this is the perfect time for me to do that.” You told him and reached down to grab your tablet and headphones.

“Seriously? You know I’m a Star Wars geek too... not that you’re a geek... just that I am.” Peter stated nervously, shaking his head a bit at how stupid the statement was. “Anyway, I have a dual... a dual headphone adapter if you want to watch them together.” He suggested.

You glanced down to your tablet then back to Peter, nodding gently. “Yeah, I uh... I’d like that.” You said and bit your lip. “Which one should we start with?” You asked. As you and Peter talked about Star Wars the plane took off and headed for Venice.

***

Once you had got to the hotel, you texted your dad that you were safe and okay. He wasn’t too happy that you waited until then to text him, but you ignored that and slipped your phone in your bag. The class was leaving soon so you headed downstairs to see Peter in the flooded lounge. You were about to say something but Mr. Harrington’s voice boomed before you could form a sentence in your mind.

“Into St. Mark’s Square students.” He called out and you sighed, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and following the class out the door.

“Hey, Peter! What’s in the bag?” You asked and nudged his arm, approaching him as he came out of some sort of a shop.

“Uh.. you know.. nothing.” He said and cringed at his answer, looking down to the bag.

“Nothing? Really? You come to Venice and you didn’t buy something-” You started before hearing a loud rumble come from the ground. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked down, then towards the water. “Uh.. that doesn’t sound normal.” You muttered and glanced at Peter. It went silent for a moment before the water jumped up and a sort of a monster formed. You stumbled back into Peter and your eyes widened. You felt Peter grab onto you and gently push you behind him. Ned and Betty’s boat came crashing into a door on land. Peter helped them out and then had a quick word with Ned before you all ran off. You didn’t notice Peter gone until you made it over to Mr. Harrington.

“Wait.. where’s.. where’s Peter?” You asked breathlessly. Ned muttered something about where he went but it was drowned out when you saw a figure fighting the water monster. “Holy..” You said and followed Mr. Harrington towards where he said all of us would be safe. You furrowed your eyebrows when you saw the figure. You had seen sketches that looked like that in your dad’s office.

The figure had finally defeated the water monster, turning around to face the class. It left in a hurry after giving you all a salute. Mr. Harrington told us to go back to the hotel and you trailed behind the class. You felt someone grab you and pull you into an alleyway. You were going to yell but then you saw your dad.

“Dad! What are you doing here? I know you’re protective but this is just overly protective. I’m on a school-”

“I know you are (Y/N)! You weren’t supposed to be out when this all happened.” He said as you took in his entire outfit. He had some sort of a VFX suit on that you had seen on movie actors.

“What are you wearing?” You asked and backed up a bit. “And what do you mean I wasn’t supposed to be here when this all happened? You knew I was in Venice. And it’s not like you could control the water.” You stated, confused as to why your father was here and why he was acting so different. A weird different.

“Uh.. nothing.. something for work. Just, stay inside okay?” He asked and looked at you. “I’ve gotta go meet with some kid who’s going to help me. Please be safe.” He said and kissed your head before disappearing around the corner.

You stood there dumbfounded before walking back to the hotel, trying to wrap your head around everything that just happened. You weren’t stupid but when it came to your dad you were blinded. You didn’t know what he was actually doing until later the next day when you all got to Prague.

It was weird that your class had magically gotten an upgrade with a private driver and a perfect hotel. You had been wondering out in the city to take a look around when you caught a glimpse of your dad going into an abandoned building. You tilted your head, not sure that you saw the right thing but following him anyway. You slipped into the building and overheard him speaking to a group of people.

“All we have to do is make sure that everyone believes this is real. Once we do that, we convince Peter that I’m the next Tony Stark, and I get the glasses.” Your dad said and your eyes widened. You waited and heard the entire plan of the fight with fire monster where he almost ‘dies’ and then the plan on Peter handing him the glasses.

You ran out of the building and towards the hotel. You saw Peter go into his room and you called after him. “Peter! Hey, I need to tell you something!” You called out and saw him stop.

“Sorry (Y/N), but I’ve gotta get ready for tonight you know? It’s uh.. gonna be fun. The opera and all.” He said and went into his room.

“Wait... Peter no.” You said and sighed when you heard Mr. Harrington tell everyone that they needed to get ready. You groaned and went back into your room, changing into the nice outfit you packed.

You all walked to the opera house and walked up to Peter. “Peter, can I talk to you?” You asked nervously and bit your lip. You knew that if you couldn’t tell him now you wouldn’t get the chance.

“No,” he said and cringed, covering his ear. “No, no I’ll be there. I mean, I didn’t mean that.” He said and shook his head, glancing down at his hands. “Yeah, yeah can we talk after the opera?” He asked and smiled, turning around to talk to Ned.

“No, Peter please. I just need to-” You started and sighed when Ned shook his head.

“He’s not feeling very well (Y/N), he’ll talk to you later.” He said and you sighed, not bothering to go down to the seats because you knew exactly where Peter was going to be as Spider-Man. You weren’t very surprised when your dad mentioned that Peter was the famous neighborhood hero, it made sense to you. Not only was he constantly flaking, but he would act weird whenever someone mentioned the hero.

You looked around as you made your way through the crowd and tried to find Peter, or at least Spider-Man. You saw someone in a black suit up in the tower and you tried to find a way to get his attention. While you were waving, not saying Peter’s actual name because it would blow his cover, you felt the ground start to shake.

“Hey! Dude in the black suit! It’s fake! It’s not rea-” You started, continuing to wave your arms as you kept your balance. You figured he didn’t hear you because he charged at the ‘monster’ as soon as it came out of the ground. “Oh my god.” You muttered and grabbed onto the building next to you. This would be a reason that your dad told you to stay safe, and texted you to stay inside tonight. You could see Ned and Betty up at the Ferris Wheel and you tried to go to them but the ‘monster’ threw a fireball in front of you, causing you to let out a scream. You stumbled backwards and ran towards an alleyway to try and get away from the fire.

You saw the projector fall in front of you and your eyes widened, picking it up. You glanced down at it and then saw the mystery man everyone called Mysterio make the monster green and explode into nothing. You slipped the projector into your bag and ran over to where he was laying on the ground. You knew it was fake but this was still your dad, he still seemed to be hurt. You stopped when you saw Spider-Man, or Night Monkey as Betty was calling him, run over to him. You backed up and ran over to the Ferris Wheel to try and get someone to help Ned and Betty down.

You looked around for Peter but than saw him walk off with your dad into the abandoned building you walked into earlier that day. “Shit..” You muttered to yourself and walked over to the building, that seemed to be some sort of a bar now. You tried to be discreet and get into the building but it seemed to be locked from the outside. You groaned and tried to look inside but you couldn’t. Your father must have put some cloaking on the windows. You squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of how to get inside and stop Peter from giving him the glasses. You knew what they were capable of, Peter almost blew up the bus earlier because of them.

You heard Ned call your name and you ran over to him. “Ned, uh.. do you know Peter’s secret?” You asked him, glancing over to Betty. “I really need to get his attention and tell him something, but he went into that building and I can’t get in.” You told him and bit your lip.

“Oh.. uh.. that Peter cosplays? Yeah I know that secret. I probably shouldn’t have told you though, he doesn’t really like people knowing.” Ned said nervously, scratching his neck. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel, I’m sure Peter will be there when we get back.” He said and walked with Betty back there.

You let out a breath and had hope that Peter wouldn’t give the glasses to your father just yet as you walked back to the hotel. You waited in the hallway and saw Peter come back, no glasses, and looking really happy. You saw him go up to Ned and you stood up. “Hey, Peter! Can we talk now?” You asked and held onto your hands. Maybe the glasses were just in his backpack. He shouldn’t be keeping them out in the open anyway.

“Uh, yeah. We can go outside and explore the city maybe? Meet you downstairs in ten?” He asked, giving you a small smile. He seemed nervous, like he wanted to tell you something as well.

“Meet me in five.” You said and walked to your room to grab a jacket. You made sure you had the projector in your backpack and walked out to the lounge in the lobby.

Peter and you walked to the bridge nearby and you stopped walking when you noticed Peter stopped. “(Y/N), I uh.. This is our last night in Europe and I wanted to tell you something.. I’ll- I’ll just tell you.” He started and grabbed something from his pocket. “(Y/N) I am-”

“Spider-Man?” You finished and bit your lip. You saw the shock on his face and his eyes widened, shaking his head.

“No- No I’m not Spider-Man.” He said and glancing down at his hands then back to you. “Why- Why would you think that?” He asked.

“Peter, my dad is Mysterio, Quentin Beck. And you gave him those glasses that Tony Stark gave you right?” You asked and rose your eyebrows.

“Uh... yeah.. how- how do you know that?” He asked and bit his lip, slipping the thing he had in his hands back in his pocket.

“He’s not-” You started and jumped back when the projector turned on, making you drop it to the ground. A wind monster was projected and you saw Peter put on a defensive stance until the projection stopped. “My dad was using this tech to trick everyone, including you.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he picked up the projector. “Right.. So obviously I am Spider-Man. And uh.. I did give him the glasses.. God I messed up.” He said and looked at you and then the projector.

“You gave him the glasses? I wasn’t actually sure.. you did? You’re not joking?” You asked frantically and squeezed your eyes shut when he nodded his head yes.

“Okay, hey, (Y/N) I know I screwed up but we have to go back to the hotel. I need to tell Fury about this.” He said and you nodded, starting to run towards the hotel. “I can trust you right? This isn’t something your dad put you up to?” He asked when you both got to his hotel room.

“My dad doesn’t know that I know.” I told him and glanced around the room. “What are you gonna do?” You asked.

Peter explained that he needed to call Fury but couldn’t because Beck probably tapped his phone. He grabbed his suit and took off his shirt and then stopped when he made eye contact with you. You blushed slighting and turned around, but that didn’t last long because you couldn’t resist taking another look at him shirtless. You glanced to the door when you heard it open and saw Ned was standing there.

“Peter, nice costume.. for the cosplaying.. tomorrow night...” He said and you bit your lip from laughing at the stupid excuse.

“Ned, she knows. I told her.” Peter said and you shook your head.

“I figured it out, he didn’t tell me.” You stated and then Peter looked over to Ned again. He said that he was going to Berlin and he needed Ned to call his aunt. “Bye, Peter.” You muttered as he swung out the window.

***

You had assumed that Peter was going to take down your dad and get the glasses back, but you could tell that didn’t happen when the clouds formed above buildings in London.

“Damn it.. Ned my dad knows we know.” You told him and jumped when you heard an explosion at the side of the bus. “We gotta go.” You told him when you all got off of the bus. You stumbled back when you looked at it and it was taken into the water. Your dad must’ve known you were on that bus, he had the glasses.

You ran with Ned to get away from the bridge and to go hide. Some really sweaty dude came up to your group and told you that you all needed to get on the jet, and then it blew up. So, you all ran into the vault room when you heard the drones start firing.

Everyone started to share what they didn’t like about themselves and you took in a breath as the door started to shake. “My dad is trying to kill us right now!” You said frantically and winced when everyone stopped. “What? I didn’t know until it was too late.” You muttered and looked back at the door when the piece the drone had been drilling into dropped. Before it could shoot anyone it turned around and went out of the building.

The others rejoiced as you ran out of the vault and to the street. You looked around and saw Peter limping towards you. You ran over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Peter I’m so glad you’re okay.” You said and told him everyone else was okay too. “Did you- did you get him?” You asked timidly. If Peter looked this bad and won, you couldn’t imagine what your dad would have looked like. He did try killing you, twice now, so you couldn’t really sympathize if he was hurt.

“(Y/N).. I-I’m sorry but he looked like he passed out. I don’t know if he.. I’m so sorry. I tried to stop the drones before they could hurt anyone other than me.” He said and you nodded, stepping back.

“It’s okay Peter. He almost killed me too.” I told him and bit my lip. “Oh, and uh, the sweaty guy that works for you? He gave me this, told me it was from you.” You said and pulled out the small necklace that was now broken.

“Oh.. no... (Y/N) it wasn’t supposed to be broken, I’m sorry. I-I had this plan, this stupid plan and I was going to give it to you-” He started but you cut him off by pecking his lips. “A-And you kissed me..” He said and a slight smile came to his beaten up face. You nodded gently and shrugged. “I like it broken.” You told him, glancing at the necklace than back at him.

“I really like you.” He said and smiled nervously, letting out a nervous laugh. “I really like you too Peter.” You told him back and smiled when he kissed you this time.

You knew that this was going to be hard, knowing your dad was a supervillain and him almost killing you, but you had a feeling that everything was going to okay.

***

A/N: This is my first one-shot for Peter so I hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!

#ffh spoilers #sm:ffh #spider-mar: far from home #peter parker x reader #spider-man spoilers #sm:ffh spoilers #marvel #peter parker #far from home spoilers

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thequeenofadream · 6 years ago

Text

Painting a Picture of Perfection (Brian May x Reader)

PART ONE | PART TWO

Summary: you, an up and coming artist, were in the park looking for some inspiration. you suddenly saw a curly haired guitarist and you were very much enlightened.

Words: 2,762

Notes: swearing, veru fluff, freddie x mary, probably wrong timelines

A/N: thinking of making this into a series cause i can imagine (Y/N) and Bri’s first date and etc! please tell me what you guys think <3

🖌 tagging: @obsessedwithrogertaylor @malekdarling @i-padfootblack-things

~~~~~~~~~

You were an art student at the Ealing Art College in 1970 and Your next assignment was to take inspiration from daily life, but nothing was really that interesting. You were sat on the grass in the park with your close friend and roommate, Mary, and the most ‘inspiring’ thing you had seen was a leaf falling off a tree. You sighed, not having clue what to do. Mary noticed your distress and put a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s fine (Y/N), maybe you’re just having some sort of artist’s block. I’m sure you’ll get over it”

You tried to fake a smile, but it was too obvious that you weren’t happy. You just did not see anything in particular that sparked a flame in you creativity. Everything just seemed monotonous and black and white. Mary stood up, giving you an empathetic look.

“I’ve gotta head to work, but you get home soon, okay?” She was sort of like your mother at some points. Reminding you that you’re a human and humans eat, sleep, socialize and so on. You just nodded, even though you know you’d probably lose track of time or wander about aimlessly.

She gives a knowing look, before heading off to the shop that she has worked in. You were alone now, and didn’t bother you that much. It gave you more room to think, but you couldn’t help but still feel empty.

It was that moment when a dark brown curly-haired man entered your vision. He was extremely tall and held a acoustic guitar in his hand. It seemed that he had just entered the park and was looking for a place to lounge about.

The sight of him intrigued you, so you decided to watch on.

He sat under the shade of a tree and started playing his guitar, experimenting with different notes. You could barely make out what he was playing since he wasn’t within close proximity of you, but from what you could hear, it sounded amazing. The chords he played came to life and told their own story. That spoke to you in more ways than you could count. It seemed that seeing someone divulge in their own artistic endeavors inspired you.

It was either that or you had caught feelings for the random stranger or quite possibly both.

The music was quickly drowned out by all the thoughts and ideas that came to your head. You sketched them down, trying your best to capture the essence of them before the moment passed. You had drawn him playing the guitar sitting under a tree, different stories and colours escaping from his guitar and into the sky. It was quite a sight to behold, you just needed to colour and shade it in.

You wanted to go up to the man and ask who he was, but when you looked up from your sketchbook he was gone. Your giant grin had faded into a small frown as you realized you missed your opportunity to talk to a cute, talented guy. You let out a deep exhale you didn’t even realise you were holding until this moment. You decided to go back to the flat and finish up the sketch.

“I’m home!”

You slammed the door shut and saw Freddie, Mary’s boyfriend, laying down on the couch with no Mary in sight. He was actually a classmate of yours in one of you classes, he thought you were great and vise-versa. He looked up at you, startled by your entrance. You just raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was up to now. He was fully clothed thought so that was nice.

“and what is Mr. Mercury doing here? Mary isn’t due till 5 o’clock.” You asked as he sat up straight giving you some room on the couch. You sat down beside him and placed your backpack on the floor next to the couch.

“Thought I could get here early so we could leave together for my show, but I actually also wanted to talk to you.”

He said it proudly, feeling responsible for being early. You’ve never actually seen him perform so you thought about tagging along tonight. You’ve definitely have heard him sing but now with the band. Anyways, The plot has thickened. You wondered what he could possibly talk to you about, then again he usually just asked about class notes so it was probably no big deal. You let him continue.

“Could I see how your newest assignment going?”

His eyes lit up curiously, wondering what you had accomplished so far . Your face quickly turned beet red as your mind tried to rack up an excuse to why he most definitely could not. You couldn’t just saw you were inspired by a really cute stranger and drew him and didn’t even tell him. He quickly noticed this and it was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Something interesting happen?” He asked eyeing the backpack you had left on the floor. You were quick to shake your head

“Uh no-It’s just-uh-no”

It was as if your mind had just shut down and you couldn’t say or do anything. You were frozen. Fred took this an opportunity to snatch the sketchbook in your bag and make a beeline to the bathroom. You were quickly snapped out of your trance and ran after him, but it was too late he had locked the door You knocked on the door furiously demanding him to let you in. You grabbed the closest thing to you and used it as a threat.

“FARROKH BULSARA I WILL STICK A CANDLE UP YOUR ASS.”

However Freddie knew you were far too nice to do so. He opened up your sketchbook to see a drawing of his bandmate, Brian May, under a tree playing the guitar. How curious he thought. Did you know that was Brian? Did you talk to him? Most importantly, did you develop a crush for the guitarist? He needed more details and gave into letting you in. He unlocked the door to see heat radiating off of you due to the anger and embarrassment.

“Give me that.”

You said taking it out of Freddie’s hand. You marched back to the living room and grunted as you sat back down, arms crossed. Freddie followed quietly and cautiously, thinking of how he could bring it up without pissing you off any further. He sat down on a recliner next to the couch, giving you some space.

“It’s really good.” He broke the silence with a compliment, hoping you’d forgive him. You took a deep breathe and decided to stop overreacting. You looked up and gave him a soft smile. “Thanks.” You said shyly, in contrast to the emotions you were displaying just earlier. He smiled back, happy that you had calmed down.

“So where’d you get the inspiration.”

You decided to just come clean. It wasn’t as if it were strange to talk about someone you had thought was cute. Mary talked about Freddie all the time, so you could surely talk about someone you developed the slightest crush on.

“I saw this guy in the park.” You started as Freddie leaned in closer, listening intently.

“He sat under a tree in the park and started playing some music which I thought was really nice. I got inspired and drew well.” You held up the sketch, feeling a little more confident. “Anyways, by the time I was done, I didn’t notice that he had left.” Your expression looking miserable as you remember you hadn’t even gotten his name. Fred then thought of plan to get two of his friends a date and watch you unravel at the sight of your mystery crush. He smirked at the thought, while you were still too flustered to notice.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). You’ll probably see him again.”

Fast forward to an hour later, you were with Mary and Fred on your way to bar he was performing at tonight. It was about a five minute walk away so it wasn’t too bad. You slightly felt like the third wheel, but they did their best not to let you feel that way. You were coming up to the bar and you saw all the light from the bar practically gleaming off the windows. You thought they must have one hell of a set to get to perform here.

Fred stepped in first and held door open for you and Mary. You gave him a small curtsy and you both giggled at how formal you two were being. He led you two backstage to see a blonde, blue eyed drummer, a brunet bassist and-

“Oh no.”

You had let the words slip right out your mouth and everyone had heard. You went back your flustered state and wanted to hide in a bush. Freddie tried to keep in his laughter as he saw you go turn as red a tomato. You saw him out of the corner of your eye and you started regretting that you didn’t shove the candle up his ass.

“(Y/N), this is Roger Taylor, John Deacon, and last but not least, the charming Brian May.” Freddie smirked while pointing to the respectively. You had accidentally made direct eye contact with Brian and quickly looked away. He was so much more pretty up close. You couldn’t even look at Brian and just desperately tried to escape the situation. Mary sensed your discomfort; at times like this she knew just what to do.

“So-”

“(Y/N) and I are gonna head to the bathroom for a second, we’ll be right back.” Mary smiled apologetically. She linked arms with you and hurried down the hall into the bathroom. You just went along with it, seeing as you had no real other choice. She closed the door and looked straight at you.

“Okay I know Roger’s hot and all, but-”

“No, no it’s not Roger.” You said awkwardly scratching the back of your head, not really knowing how to say this again. You explained the situation to her and she responded with an ‘Ohhhh.’ She felt bad, but she was trying to hold in laughter because of what Fred did, however it she could not hold it in any longer. She started laughing and all you could do was grunt like a child.

“It’s not funny.” You said crossing your arms for what felt like the hundredth time. She apologized in between laughs, but you were still mad. After the laughter had died down, she spoke up again.

“So you have a crush on Bri?”

“You could say so.” You finally admitted, smiling like a schoolgirl with a middle school crush. Mary let out a squeal as quietly as possible and you just rolled your eyes. “What am I gonna do?” You asked, feeling nervous to even step back outside.

“Just be you.” She said as she opened the door for you, gesturing you to leave.

“Hey, sorry for that, we’re back.” Mary said letting go of your arm. You looked around to see the once again, all with their instruments. You waved at them, no really feeling like talking as of the moment. Brian was the first to come up to you and hold out a hand.

“Hey (Y/N), I hope you’ll enjoy the set later.”

You nodded and took his hand shaking it gently. Him being there, already improved the set by a 100% so you didn’t see how it could go wrong. Roger and John had also introduced themselves to you before they head out onto the stage to perform. You all talked together, about your interest and such, but you were really hitting it off with Brian and you could not be any happier. Before you left, Bri told you that he’d see you in the crowd. You basically had a mental breakdown because you didn’t know if he meant you as a plural or a singular noun.

The show was great and you really felt their energy blowing the roof off the place. You felt like you were in an arena with thousands of people and Queen was at the center of it all. The way Freddie entranced the crowd was amazing, he could get them all to scream the lyrics at the top of their lungs. John was clearly great at the bass and he would also move around the stage, slightly. You could tell he was a tad shy, but desperately trying to break out of his shell. Roger was essentially a perfect drummer; You couldn’t tell how he had control over all of the rhythms, and how he had done the solo during ‘keep yourself alive’.

Last but not least, there was Brian. He was perfect. You could tell that music was truly his passion and that enchanted you beyond words. You tried not to stare for most of the time, but you couldn’t help it. He’d occasionally flash a wink or smile and you’d giggle. You just wanted him to kiss you softly under the light of a thousand suns; something so sweet yet so intense.

As the set came to an end, you met the four of them backstage to see they were already packing things up. You and Mary tried your best to bring them out into the van and you all finished up quicker. After that was all over, you all decided to go back inside for a round of drinks or two, all except Brian, because he was driving later on.

Sooner or later, you were left alone with Brian sitting on the stools, watching everyone else dance to some other music. You decided it was your time to be confident while you still had alcohol in you so you spoke up.

“I actually saw you earlier.” You said as he looked up at you, curious to hear what you had to say. “At the park, I think you were playing some songs.” You continued, waiting to hear what he’d say.

“Oh, why didn’t you come over?” He did remember seeing a pretty girl off in the distance at the park, but she seemed concentrated on something so he didn't bother. He wondered if that was you.

“Well, actually the tunes you played were so good that it inspired me to draw. I’m actually an art student like fred.” You confessed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders that would last only until his next question.

“What’d you draw?”

You contemplated whether exposing yourself or running away once again, then again running away was all you ever seemed to do. You decided you needed to step up and show him. Freddie said it was good after all. You hesitated for a moment, but then started rummaging through your bag to find it. You pulled it out and opened to the page you had been looking for. You handed it to him, awaiting his response.

Brian thought it was absolutely wonderful; he didn’t even imagine anyone could portray him a such. Although it looked unfinished, he was impressed by all the small details you had caught and how creative it was. You left him breathless.

“It’s not finished, bu-”

“No, yeah don’t worry it’s really wonderful. It’s brilliant.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of it. You couldn’t help but smile at the ground, flattered by his compliments. Once he was done, he looked back up at you and handed you the book.

“It doesn’t come off as creepy, does it?”

“No, no. It’s magnificent. I wish I could draw half as good as you. You really are talented, (Y/N).”

And as if you thought you couldn’t blush any harder than all the previous times, Brian May had proved you wrong. You were much more than relieved to see that he loved it. It warmed your heart.

“Well, I wish I could play the guitar just as good as you, you inspired me after all.” You laughed, feeling confidence run through your veins. Bri now blushed, thinking about how he inspired you like that. He couldn’t believe he sparked that kind of passion in you.

“Forgive me for being a tad forward but maybe, I could inspire you a bit more next friday night?” He responded, leaving you starstruck. You didn’t actually think you’d get this far so you had no idea what to do other than to say yes, so you did.

“I’d love to Bri.” You smiled sweetly as you took his hands intertwining his with yours.

That was where it all started.

~~~~~~~~~

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

Elastic Heart - Part 3 (Branjie) - Mia Ugly

A/N: Soooo this chapter took a turn for the sad-bastardish, but I swear there will be less moodiness and more kissing in the future. Also I’m trying to use she/her pronouns in Drag Race, and he/him out of drag, but sometimes it all goes to hell, bear with me! Thanks to everyone who’s been so sweet about this fic so far.

Social media -

Is not Brock’s strength area.

Detox used to hassle him about it before he even went on Drag Race, and he made a promise to himself that he would do a better job after. Tell the world when he - ate a bowl of cereal or whatever.

Post photos of his cats at the very least.

So when his manager comes to him with the expectation that he and Jose play up their relationship for the fans, Brock says: (nonononononononononono)

He says “fine.”

Jose’s in, apparently, and - well, Brock can only take that information second-hand because the two of them haven’t really. Spoken. Recently.

He says “fine” and then he goes on Jose’s Instagram and almost has a panic attack (because some people are so pretty it is unfair, some people are basically built to break your heart - from atoms to molecules to cells.

Jose in sweats and snapbacks.

Vanessa in gloss and feathers.

Each one feels like a hand around Brock’s throat.)

So.

After about thirty minutes in the fetal position, Brock leaves it all in his manager’s hands (or whoever his manager is paying for social media these days.) Someone adds flirty comments and cute photos to anything Jose posts, someone keeps the fans happy.

Brock doesn’t need to see it.

It’s too soon (too much, too real) for him.

He tries to avoid Instagram; Twitter is about all he can handle (he knows his mom follows him and he doesn’t want to make her worry.) He doesn’t read any of the speculative articles about their relationship, but he is always extremely polite when he’s asked about it (just flirty enough to give the fans hope. Professional, friendly, not too fond. It’s a fine line, and he worries sometimes that his feelings rise a bit close to the surface. That the people who know him best are going to watch one of these interviews, peer through the ice at his blue skin and see everything.)

Friends keep texting him. Leaving him voicemails, asking him how he’s doing. Brock ignores the ones he can, and responds whenever anyone seems a bit too concerned. Gotta make sure the outside world stays outside.

Clearly it’s all going to come out by the time the finale airs, and that’s just something Brock will have to be ready for. Maybe he can do a European tour. Or an Antarctic one. They don’t have internet there, do they?

He’s wonderful, I love him, he says on ET Canada as if that doesn’t mean anything, as if it isn’t the first time he’s said ‘I love him’ out loud.

Brock keeps working (because he’s still a force of nature, even without a crown.) He does shows across the mid-West, hosts club nights, dances the house down because he is a queen, damn it. He goes on tour with the First Wives Fight Club, let’s Ginger Minj distract him with the most offensive jokes Brock’s ever heard (and it’s good to feel outrage rather than longing, for a change. It’s good to do something different, something that’s not related to Drag Race and soft-skinned Puerto Ricans who won’t answer his calls.)

Or probably won’t.

Because Brock hasn’t called.

It’s shady and pathetic and each day feels like pulling teeth out, but he’s trying to respect the boundaries Jose put up. They said their piece at the reunion before Brock died of blunt force trauma to the chest (it’s fine, he’s fine) and he’s not the kind of person to push someone to take him back.

To beg someone to want him.

He can’t say if it’s pride or fear that stops him every time he gets shit-faced and picks up his phone. He can’t count the number of texts he’s written and then deleted. And then re-written.

The night after the First Wives show in Vancouver, the other queens go out to whatever local club hasn’t been closed yet, and Brock goes for a run on the beach. It’s dark out, and after a couple of miles he stops, stretches, and sits cross-legged in the sand.

The ocean reaches out for him, black-fingered and impetuous, dotted with the twinkling lights of oil tankers.

Brock hasn’t had anything to drink. There’s really no excuse when he takes his phone out of his pocket, scrolls to Jose’s number.

His thumb hovers over the keys, thinking thinking (over-thinking).

(I’m on the West coast and I’m miserable without you and I want to hear you laugh again even if it’s at me even if it’s mean I want to hear your voice and you killed it on Jimmy Kimmel and I’m losing my mind I think you’re incredible I think you’re hilarious and brilliant and I miss you I miss youImiss -)

“Damn it,” Brock hisses, because he’s smarter than this. He’s stronger than this (he wants that to be true.)

“I’ll be at Drag Con,” he texts before he can think too much about it. “Hope i see u.”

He waits. He’ll probably delete it without sending. He should delete it without sending because Jose doesn’t want to talk to him.

His thumb sits on the ‘Send’ key, barely touching it. It’s such a pointless, empty message. It doesn’t say any of the things he wants to say.

This was easy once. Talking to Jose was like breathing. What the fuck happened? (He knows what happened, and he resists the urge to throw his phone into the sea.)

After a few seconds, Brock deletes the message and puts his phone down.

Then he picks it back up.

He bites the inside of his cheek, a habit he mostly gave up in middle school.

This was easy once.

(“When this is all over –“

“Oh Jesus, oh Mary, there she goes.” Vanjie at her station, rummaging through yards of tulle. “You wanna shack up or something? Get cats, turn me into a proper wifey?”

“Well. I was thinking more like buy you dinner.” Brooke doesn’t touch her, because the world is watching. Still - her eyes linger on the bones of Vanjie’s hands, her wrists, her jaw. There is not a part of her body that doesn’t beg for contact, not a part of her that Brooke doesn’t want to touch.

“Ha, okay. But I’m a classy ho. It’s gotta be Olive Garden at least, get me some unlimited breadsticks.”

There’s a faint blush on her cheekbones even though she’s rolling her eyes, and it makes Brooke love her even more than –

Shit.

She did not just think that word.

They aren’t - there yet. Brooke’s tired and stressed and her brain is clearly short-circuiting. It’s nothing. It’s fine.

“That shut you up, hey? Olive Garden too bougie for you? Don’t worry, girl– when this is all over and I’m a honey-thousand dollars richer, I’ll take you anywhere you want.”)

He should have known then.

Stopped it all in its tracks before it got totally out of control. But he didn’t.

Brock lies back against the sand, breathes in the copper-sweet taste of the ocean.

(That’s a star, right?)

The waves roll in, and he can almost see stars.

* * *

Back in her hotel room, she’s running over choreography for Tuckpantistan in her head, counting under her breath (one and two and three and -) when a noise distracts her.

A papery scratching at her hotel-room door. When Brooke goes to investigate, she sees a folded note that’s been slid underneath it.

U up?

Then below it: Haha, JK. Got a PA to deliver this, some real high school shit. Thinking bout your pretty face. <3 <3 <3

It’s signed Papi and Brooke turns rose-petal pink with embarrassment and pleasure. Fuck, she wishes she had her phone. Wishes she could FaceTime Vanjie any time she wanted, see her all bleary-eyed and soft and sleepy. Just the thought of that image makes Brooke’s heart clench painfully, and she tries not to think about why.

Instead she takes out the notepad from the desk in the hotel room.

How do I know this is really you and not just a producer fucking with me?

She folds the paper into a flat square and writes Return to Sender on the front of it, before sliding it under her hotel room door.

Then she immediately feels like an idiot.

This is ridiculous. They aren’t teenagers.

Brooke goes back to rehearsing for tomorrow, and tells herself there isn’t a stupid smile on her face. That would just be too undignified.

About fifteen minutes later (not that Brooke was counting or paying attention or anything) she hears that same scratching sound, and goes back to the door. A new piece of paper has been slid underneath it, and Brooke bites down on a grin.

You want a ring or some shit?

Thought you’d like that, something only the real MISS VANESSA VANJIE MATEO would know. This PA’s real nice, I’ma take advantage of her. UNLESS SHE’S READING THIS.

What you wearing?

Brooke snorts out a laugh (then covers her face and pretend that sound didn’t just come out of her.) She sketches out a quick, terribly unsexy picture of herself (basically a beefy stickman in pajama pants and a t-shirt) then folds it up and sticks it back under the door. This is the most bizarre flirtation she has ever taken part in, and - and she shouldn’t enjoy it as much as she does.

Vanjie’s reply includes a decidedly more X-rated stickman.

I better get some nudes next. Gotta occupy my time somehow besides missing on you.

Brooke laughs at the thought of the horrified PA that could be reading this.

You’ve seen it all in the werkroom anyway, she writes, And you could occupy your time with sleeping, maybe?

Brooke sends the note off, and gives up the ghost of rehearsing for a minute. She stretches out on her bed, arms against the headboard and bare feet nearly hanging off the end. Story of her life, really. She’s always felt like she’s too big, too tall, too much. Compared to Vanessa, she’s like some sort of beast, stumbling around crushing beautiful, delicate things beneath her feet.

Vanessa is beautiful. Brooke wouldn’t call her ‘delicate’ though, not by a long shot. She knows Vanjie well enough by now to know that she can hold her own.

(She wonders how much of that attitude is for the show. What Vanjie’s like when she’s all alone. Every so often there’s a moment where it seems like the other queen is letting her guard down, softening the sideways grin and adorable swagger that Brooke sees when the cameras are rolling.

How much of that is protective, Brooke wonders. How much of that swagger is self-defense?

How much of that humor is about survival.)

There is a reply not even ten minutes later: Nah girl, you’re keeping me up. Gonna think about you in those overalls all night, haha. When I can’t do shit tomorrow I’ll be blaming your fine self for messing with my head.

Brooke folds and unfolds Vanjie’s reply too many times, unwilling to put it down. She’s glad she can’t see herself, knows that she’s probably glowing with affection. She’s got a crush, right, just like she told them in the confessional. That’s what this is. Just a massive, ridiculous crush.

An impossible, stupid, hopeless crush.

I take no responsibility for that.

But also your angel costume is the real problem here, how am I supposed to get anything done?

Go to sleep and dream about my overalls, Miss Vaaaaanjie.

Brooke has had crushes before. She’s always survived them.

When she slides her note back under the door she thinks that will be the end of it, but a reply comes later, clock nearing midnight and shadows sliding like fingers through the blinds.

Sweet dreams Brooky Poo.

Brooke holds the note against her chest, and laughs, and when she falls asleep she’s still smiling. Her dreams are full of white feathers, falling gently as snow from the ceiling of her hotel room. Settling soft as a promise against Brooke’s open mouth.

#rpdr fanfiction #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #branjie #angst #canon #canon adjacent #elastic heart #mia ugly #concrit welcome #submission #on set fic #s11

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dylan-hague · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 2

“You’re a pilot, right?”

Van glanced up from his drink at a girl in a rather drab beige robe cinched tight around her body that covered most of her face. The robe was immaculate, without spot or wrinkle despite the squalor of their surroundings. He couldn’t help cocking a brow; if she was attempting to go unnoticed, she wasn’t doing it very well. She carried herself far too proudly, kept her shoulders too square, held her head too high. But there was a craze behind her eyes, one that spoke desperation, He scratched at his chin for a moment as he looked around the cantina. Nobody seemed to be paying attention. Seemed nobody had noticed her. This sort of hire had a tendency to get him into trouble… but having spent the last of his credits on that fill-up, Van wasn’t exactly in any position to turn her down.

“Uh, yeah.” He smiled. “Van Taris, pilot-for-hire. You got somewhere to be?”

The girl nodded, frantically it seemed to Van’s eyes. “An orbital station, above Bonumaan.”

In the back of his head, Van felt a twinge of excitement spark. Bonumaan was a ways out. That kind of a trip.... that would be the ticket right there. But he wasn’t fool enough to say as much aloud, instead feigning a half-sneer. “Ick… Never liked Bonumaan,” Van replied. “So muggy everywhere you go… least, where I’ve been. Big planet, all that.”

“But you can get me there, yes?”

“Of course, yeah, but uhhh, y’know... not free.” Van pulled his sleeve back and began punching in a few quick calculations on his wrist console. It was a simple little gadget, mainly just used for this exact purpose. “Lemme see… We’re on Natoth, and Bonumaan is about… 2400 parsecs Rimwards... rounding down, anyway, to save you money.” Van winked at the girl. People usually liked that bit. “That’s gonna be a couple days’ travel… maybe we can stop over on Takodana--”

“No! Please, we have to be as fast as possible.”

“Alright, alright! No stops…” Van continued, changing his calculations. “So accounting for fuel cost these days, food and water for the road, plus my extra twenty percent…” A moment of further calculation, then a quiet ping from the console. “That’ll run you 1680 NRC.”

“Can you take Imperial?”

Van frowned. “Sorry, I… people still do Imperial? That was… that was kinda before my time. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright, nevermind…” The girl dipped a hand into her robe and pulled out a stack of 500-NRC chips. Four, to be exact. Van licked his lips; that was a big fat tip.

“Now, I can’t make exact change, you gotta understand…”

“It’s fine,” the girl urged. “Just… please. I have to hurry.”

Van nodded, turning back and draining the rest of his drink. It was an effort to hide his excitement. 2000 credits… back in the day, that would have been enough for a pretty decent used speeder bike. Nowadays… well, Van would put it to good use. Maybe get the Bird shopped up, see if he couldn’t improve her fuel-rate so that his current situation didn’t happen again. Between the creds, and his tank filled up now… Van liked his odds of making it home.

“Alrighty, you got yourself a pilot. If you’ll follow m-ohhh…” The pilot shook his head as he stood up from his stool. He never drank anything too strong, but perhaps that had been a bit of a chug. He cleared his throat and got his feet back under him. “Okay, okay. Follow me, Bluebird’s this way!”

Van led the girl on a quick jaunt out of the bar and across town, in the chilly Natoth air. This particular hemisphere was hitting the middle of winter, and things on this system got particularly cold, cold enough to build up ice on the windows of any structure without proper heating. He liked Natoth well enough, but he didn’t have the blood for it. He blamed Naboo for that one.

Rinng met him outside his ship, covered in grease. Van produced his last 5-credit chip and dropped it into the mechanic’s hand. He would have tipped more, but he was going to need every credit of that 2000.

“Hey, hold on before you take off,” Rinng called after the pair. Van turned curiously back to the tendril-headed fellow. “I noticed a bit of buildup around the base of your cannon, so I went ahead and cleaned it off for ya.”

“Oh, thanks man! You really didn’t have to do that.”

The Nautolan waved the comment aside. “I’d go ahead and fire up the bioshields, get started warming those windscreens up. You know how bad the ice gets these days.”

“Thanks again, Rinng. See ya soon.” Van offered a sloppy salute as he opened the Bluebird’s hatch and led his passenger inside. As he eased himself back into his seat at the helm, he heard the klik-ssssssssssssss of the station’s fuel line disconnecting. As he began firing up the ship, the fuel tank showed at full capacity. While that was always a good sight, Van still couldn’t shake an odd feeling about this gig. Last time he was on Natoth, he picked up a shady character… admittedly he’d been more obviously sketch than this lady, but he’d picked him up in the Cantina just like her. Cheap scum didn’t even leave a tip, and Van was pretty sure he saw the creep try to swipe his blaster on the way out the door. All said creep got away with was a holster… which Van had to replace, since the creep apparently just up and disappeared a day after he left the Bird and couldn’t be hunted down. Either way, this gig still seemed on the verge of being sketchy, but these days… again, 2000 is 2000.

Van grinned as the engines roared to life, and the Bluebird began to lift up out of the station. He quickly pulled up his astrogation chart, plotting a course for Bonumaan, past Takodana--avoiding open space, for Rinng’s sake--as the ship lifted itself up through the atmosphere.

“So!” Van called, turning to see the girl strapping herself in. Nearly swallowing his words, the pilot hurriedly secured his own safety belt as well. “Once we make the jump, that’ll put us just past Takodana, at which point we’ll swing around the planet and make a second jump to hit Bonumaan. Normally I’d just shoot straight there, but I’ve heard about some, uhh… well, some unsavory activity goin’ on right in that sector. Do hope you don’t mind.”

“What sort of unsavory activity?”

“Fighter Jockies,” Van replied with just a hint of a sneer. “Pirates. Like to blast apart good honest travelers, then pick at whatever’s left of their ships like animals.”

“Sounds like you’ve encountered them before.”

“I have,” Van said grimly. “I was lucky I’d just hooked my cannon controls up to the helm, because I didn’t have a gunner with me. If I hadn’t sprung for the upgrade, they prob’ly woulda blown me right outta lightspeed, scattered what was left of me across the whole parsec.”

“How would they fire on you at lightspeed? No weapon can fire that quickly.”

“Not a cannon. Some of ‘em have these big ol’ blades strapped to the flanks of their fighters. So long as they can swing in beside you, they’ll carve your ship wide open.”

“That’s horrid!”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Van, “which is why it’s such skiff that the Senate can’t decide on what to do about it.” He paused for a moment. “Uhh, pardon my language.”

“It’s fine.”

Van turned back to the helm. “Anyway, I’m gonna take us around the other end of Tako just to be on the safe side, alright? If it helps, I can offer you back 20 credits.”

“Don’t worry about the money, I just need to get to that station soon…”

“Don’t suppose you have any reasons for the express treatment you’d like to share?”

The girl frowned. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say.”

Van held up a hand. “Totally cool, pretend I didn’t even ask.”

They had just passed into the void of space, pinpoints of starlight shining through the blackness stretched out forever before them. Van wrapped his fingers around the warp switch and turned back to his passenger. The girl pushed back into her seat and offered a single nod of confirmation. The pilot whipped back forward and slowly pushed the switch forward. The stars stretched and shone brighter and brighter, until the blackness of space gave way to a swirling vortex of shimmering blue hyperspace.

“Beenine. Stabilize, please.”

“Of course, love,” came a voice from overhead.

The girl jumped. “What was that?”

“Oh, that’s Beenine. She useta be a droid, but then we got into a scuffle with an ex-Imp cell. One of ‘em had one of those riot batons, Beenine took a hit. Lucky me, I was flying into Nar Shaddaa at the time, so I swung by a chop shop, got her patched up as best I could. Beenine, say hi!”

Van pointed up over the console, where built into the ship itself was installed the round head of a protocol droid. The girl let out a little gasp as the droid’s illuminated eyes.

“Nice to meet you, love. Designation B9-V at your service. Welcome to Taris Travels, ready to do all we can to make your travels as smooth and swift as possible.”

The girl blinked profusely for a moment, but she nodded. “Pl-uhh, pleasure to meet you.”

After a moment longer, the Bluebird’s pressure-stabilizers kicked in, alleviating the force pressing the ship’s occupants into their seats. Van heaved himself up from his chair and stretched. “So!” he started, “lemme show you where everything is. Don’t worry, she’s a real small ship… sure you noticed on the way in.”

The tour was brief. Van had two sleeping quarters on opposite ends of the Bluebird, one for himself and one for his passenger, or two for his passengers if he was flying for more than one. The pilot’s seat was a perfectly fine napping spot… usually. Foodstores and a very, very rudimentary kitchen took up most of the lower deck, and the rest of the ship was either working parts or storage. Van made a point to keep things cozy. Sure, it was a source of occasional complaints, but what did it matter? This ship wasn’t a home to anyone but Van, and Van liked things the way he had them.

“I believe I’ll retire for a bit, if it’s all the same to you,” said the girl. “Forgive me, but it’s been…”

“Hey, I get it,” said Van. “That’s what the beds are for. Take a load off. I’ll be up here keepin’ an eye on things.”

The girl bowed, and disappeared into the hallway. Van turned back to the swirling hyperspace before him.

Beenine’s head swiveled down to look at her pilot. “So what do we know about her?” her voice came from a smaller speaker on the console now, rather than the overhead speakers.

“Not a thing,” Van replied. “Picked her up in Sen-Trill.”

“Sen-tr--” Beenine sighed, an exaggerated sort of sound. “Captain, we’ve discussed this, nothing good comes out of Sen-Trill.”

“Well that doesn’t change the fact that we’re out of work,” Van shot back. “She gave us 2000 creds, we can’t afford to turn that kind of money down!”

“Is this about Life Day?” Beenine groaned. “We’ve had this conversation a thousand times! Just Comm your mother, she can take care of it!”

“And I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not doing that! I’m a grown man, I don’t need a handout from my mother.”

“Your credit account says differently.”

“Bee! We literally just got 2000!”

“And before that, you had six.”

“Oh, shut up and plot us a course!”

Both pilot and droid let out exasperated half-shouts as they went back to their respective duties. Van would never think about wiping Beenine’s memory, but times like this she just tested his patience so much…

Just keep flying, Van thought to himself as he gazed out the windscreen. His eyelids grew heavy, and he felt weariness settling on his shoulders like a great weight. Everything will work out fine if… if you just keep… keep... flying...

#star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars #star wars: flyboy #lucasfilm

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littlemonstersau-blog · 5 years ago

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The Feels Awaken, Part 3: A New Hope (for Friendship)

Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me

PART I - PART II [Interlude] - PART III - PART IV [Interlude] - PART V [FINAL] (you are here)

——————————————————————————————–

A new day dawned then waxed then began to wane, but Ford and Bill hardly noticed. A manic, obsessive energy (plus an unhealthy amount of coffee and sugar) kept them focused throughout their self-appointed task. Such is often the case for the kind of people who feel the need to write to right a wrong in the world. Not all heroes wear capes, after all; some wear turtlenecks and trenchcoats, some wear paper-based clones of teenage boys produced through unholy abominations of SCIENCE!.

… For that matter, not all heroes are particularly heroic; some are morally ambiguous straddlers of the line between antihero and antivillain, some are demonic chaos gods who (quite frankly) still wonder how in the 79 Hells they found themselves in this position.

In the end, though it did take more than the one night, they still finished in just over 16 hours. The plot outline came in at just over 18 pages, which they tidily stacked together on the table and declared to be more than adequate … before passing out on the carpet. Facefirst.

When Bill next regained consciousness, he was in his attic bed and morning light was streaming through the window. His mouth tasted like an abandoned prison for criminally insane chalk and his head felt like the internal turmoil of a buzzsaw having an existential crisis. It was a pain that was anything but hilarious; it was the sugared caffeine hangover equivalent of nuclear fallout … Mouthwash fixed the first problem. The second took an adult dosage of aspirin, a lot of water, and deliberate manipulation of many of the clonesuit’s normally automatic processes for a full eight minutes. And even then, not completely.

“Guess I can’t pilot one of these things through 36+ hours of no sleep on a gallon of coffee … Not if I wanna be able to still maneuver it the next day without crashing every ten feet into a wall or the floor, at least,” he grumbled to himself. “Major design flaw … Can’t believe they got evolutionarily approved for mass production with such weak durability …”

Downstairs in the kitchen, Stan greeted him jovially enough. “Stancakes are up, and so are you, it seems. How you feelin’ today?”

“Honestly, confused,” Bill graveled, his clonesuit throat still raw. “I can get longterm possession of a meatbag leading to me—y’know, the real me—developing emotions and physical cravings and other … gross, brain-mush junk like that. Neurochemistry is basically just an addictive habit, like how people respond to hearing the question ‘What is love?’—”

“Baby, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me no more,” Stan mumbled automatically.

“Exactly. But what I don’t get is why the real me is also feeling this coffee and sugar hangover. No joke: I tried leaving my clonesuit to get away from it, but it followed me. How is that fair? And, yeah, existence isn’t fair,” Bill interjected before Stan automatically could. “But still …”

Like the benevolent and experienced sage he was (more or less), Stan chuckled to himself. Then, laying a companionable arm around Bill’s shoulders, he leaned in and whispered the truth as grimly as Death itself, “You can outrun your sins, but you can never outrun a hangover.”

“W-wha?”

“Some say if you never stop drinkin’, it’ll never catch up with you. But they are fools. Sooner or later, all things must sleep—sooner or later, all who drink must suffer.”

“Uh … K-kinda freakin’ me out here.” Bill tried to lean away, but Stan’s hold was inescapable. “And, just sayin’, I’m kinda responsible for making most of the 79 Hells as freaky as they are.”

“Heed my warning, child.”

“I’m heeding! I’m heeding! Elder Gods, Stan, the only one who’s supposed to give people nightmares around here is me …”

Straightening up, Stan went back to the stove to continue what passed for cooking with him. “Once you’re done eatin’, by the way, I gotta plate for you to take down to Ford. He prob’ly needs some food and water more ‘n you do.”

Between mouthfuls of food, Bill said, “Yeah, sure … You seen what we wrote, by the way?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad at all. I’d def’nitely go see movies like that. Might even pay my own money for it, too. Heh … Even Soos admitted the storylines are better. Haven’t seen him that downcast ‘bout anything in a while, either. Looked as painful for him as cutting out his own kidney. Might have to do something nice for him soon just to make up for it,” Stan added to himself.

“Huh … Yeah, maybe …” Bill chewed on his breakfast, almost starting to maybe feel guilty. Then, when he finished, he put his dishes in the sink, picked up what was meant for Ford, and took it down to the lab.

Ford, as usual, was at his desk. He was hunched over with a pen, which was also fairly usual. However, and this was very unusual, all his notes and Journals had been pushed into a corner—neatly stacked, but well out of the way. Close to hand, as if for quick reference, was actually their Cosmos Conflicts storyline.

Bill cleared his throat. “Brought some breakfast for ya from Stan.” He set it on the desk, but away from any of the papers (just in case). “How you feeling? I woke up with a caffeine hangover I couldn’t escape even when I left my body. Er, clonsuit. Whatever. Same dif.”

“… I didn’t really sleep very deeply,” Ford eventually replied, his voice as hoarse as Bill’s. “Ergo, I can’t really say I woke up with such a hangover, but I’m suffering one all the same.”

“Yeesh, that sucks. Taken anything? Had some water and some food? That helped me.”

“Some water and aspirin, yes, though I’m not sure I could keep much food down … I suppose I ought to try, anyway.”

“If you feel more rotten than a two-week-old apple core, why are you working?” Bill asked, sliding the plate closer.

“I’m not really working, per se,” Ford answered guiltily. “Just … sketching. Some stuff. For what we came up with.”

Bill’s eyes lit up with interest. “Ooo! Really? Can I see? Please?”

For a moment, Ford’s jaw worked. As though trying to control himself.

“It’s okay,” Bill said hurriedly, though unable to fully contain his disappointment. “I get it. I’ll leave you al—”

A couple pages’ worth of images (some rough sketches, some little more than absent doodles, and some rather intricate and detailed) were thrust at the Demon. “Here. Can’t see any harm in you looking at them, anyway, so …” Ford mumbled. Without looking up, he cut in to his food. “Was just doing this since I’m too awake and restless to just not do anything, but too … wooly in the head, I suppose you could say, to do any productive work.”

Bill poured over them, delighting in the imaginative whimsy of them. Most were of characters from the prequels, though with distinctive touches—touches reflecting their own collaboration (such as Otherkin in a stained pilot’s attire, Imdolledupa aiming ruthlessly with a blaster, and Jelived Knights wearing a different style of clothing from Jelived Sentinels or Jelived Healers). But some were very different, especially among the doodles. “Ha! You made a Soos Wookie!”

Ford couldn’t resist smiling. “Soosbacca. Co-pilot to Stan Solo.”

“In their spaceship, the Mystery Falcon, right? Is Melody a Wookie, too?”

“Huh … That’s not a bad idea, actually. I was having a hard time seeing how to fit her in, since she isn’t really the Princess Leia type.”

“But Mabel and—pff!—Dipper are?” Bill snorted, pointing to where they were both sketched with the iconic braids wrapping around their ears. “Both of them together?”

“Well, they’re also both Luke, since I couldn’t really pick who fit which roll better.”

“Two sets of the twins running around, huh?” Bill murmured, though he was really thinking about two Dippers (and they weren’t running around, either—they were very much not running). “… And Wendy’s Lando, I see. Am I Yoda, since I’m the most triangular or everybody, and the right size?”

“Uh …” Ford hesitated.

“Pff, it’s alright, I can already see 3PO and R2 are both me.”

Lamely, the Weirdologist explained, “Because you’re shiny. That’s the extent of the logic.”

“You gonna do any more sketches?”

“Assuming I can keep breakfast down, probably,” Ford said around a mouthful. “It’s … distracting. And fun. And relaxing, too. Helps to pass the time on a down day like this.”

“Um … M-mind if I stay and watch? Please?” Bill almost begged. “Y’know how much I love watching you meatbags make art.”

“… Oh, fine,” Ford relented. Because what was the harm in being nice to the Demon? Ford didn’t have to trust him for that. “Just don’t make any noise. My head aches enough as it is.”

Bill mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key before pulling up a chair and settling himself comfortably beside Ford. The only time he broke his silence after that was to ask Ford if he wanted more water, and to assert that the others would get a kick out of seeing these sketches (“especially Soos … the Twins, too, though we’d have to text ‘em a photo of ‘em, or mail the whole project to ‘em to see …”).

All in all, it turned out to be a rather nice day for both of them together.

#little monsters au #the feels awaken #bipper #stanford #bill cipher #writing #fanfiction #please excuse the dopey ass looking star wars sketches #also omfg this is finished finallyyyy #submission

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onisionquotes · 7 years ago

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The Call/This Is Cray/etc

mirror of video Hi there, yeah, hi it's me. How you doin'? Hah. So, I gotta talk about the elephant in the room, the elephant you don't know is in the room, but I wanna talk about that elephant. You guys know I like sharing my personal life with you. I LOVE SHARING ITS SO FUN! It's kind of like I gossip but I dont really like gossiping about other people, I moreso enjoy gossiping about myself. So with that being said. I wanna talk about something that happened recently. First of all, my spouse manages my business emails. Laineybot [GROAN]. So after six years or uh, seven years… six sev six sev… seven years. I had somebody record videos with me a long time ago, over six years ago. And they're obviously enjoying being in the video, I mean they volunteered to be in the videos. And you know down the line that person and I, because we were dating and stuff, well I decided to end things with them and they went home to Canada. And then I decided to get back with them, for like the ninetieth[?] time and they were taking money from me so they could survive in Canada for a while, and they picked that money up that I sent to them on a regular basis with their "guy friend". But later on, one of my fans informed me that that "guy friend" who they were regularly picking up money in the car of at the money tree or whatevers in Canada. That person had actually gotten them pregnant while they were dating me and taking money from me. I, of course, fell apart and walked 6 miles to Dennys. And in that Dennys, I uh, there's nothing really that happened at Dennys I just fell apart more. I walked home, six miles or whatever, and eventually a person named Taylor my spouse put me back together. So I used to work with somebody in videos a long time ago and then they got pregnant with someone elses baby and recently I've been uploading those videos that I did with that person so long ago because even though they did that to me, even though they took my money and we were dating and then they got pregnant with someones baby. Like even though there's all that really like not-so-great feeling there, I still enjoy the art. You know, the work we did together. It's very… nice. It's wonderful really. That person was really very funny and I can see that, despite… having gone through those things with them. But I got an email, or Lainey got an email, because Lainey manages the business. And I can't show it to you, because the last time I showed you guys and email, I got in a lot of trouble on youtube. I don't know why I got in trouble, but I did. So I can't like, show screencaps anymore I just have to like, repeat them. Oh! But I will post this to the corteria[?] on onision.org/forums which only like six people have access too. It's a hidden forum within the forum. It's pretty cool. But I will post this screenshot there. Anyway, it says: "To whom it may concern, you are being advised that any and all material containing imagery, sound or likeness of that persons name is to be immediately removed from any public sites." NO. The answer is NO. Okay. You can't do that. When somebody volunteers to be in a video you can't just say "you know what, I revoke it" NO. The agreement was you are giving me property. It is mine now. There was never any talk of anything outside that. Just because it is years later and you no longer feel like "oh I love these things" you still did them, and you still volunteered yourself to be in those videos. To revoke the right for me distributing content that I made, with you as a volunteer, that is totally bonkers. If that person from over six years ago, wants to go and try take everything that's mine just because it slightly involves them, uh well, then I say you give me back the thousands of dollars that you took from me. You give me back the money I sent you when you were with that other guy, uh, you give me back all the money I spent on plane tickets for you, you give me back all the money I spent on outfits and food and housing et cetera. I think we're about… $50,000 by now? You give me back all that, and yes I will take them down. But here's the thing. I am not even really making any money off of most those videos. Reality check. And I am keeping those comedy sketches up because they're awesome and I love those comedy sketches. And I'm not going to just throw away all that wonderful stuff, because somebody who got pregnant with another persons baby while dating me, no longer enjoys the sketches as much as I do. Anyway, they say "You have not been given any rights to publish these." Yes. I was. They were in them! They were literally… UGH. Ok guys, so when you voluntarily collaborate with someone, when you play out characters in a video. Like lets say I got in a banana costume and I was featured in a DanIsNotOnFire video, or I was in a uh smosh video or I was in any of your favourite youtuber video ok? If I was in like a banana costume dancing around in the background, could you imagine just because I didnt like them anymore that I went and sent them a letter saying "you must remove all this immediately!" It just.. to me… it seems…. there's not better word than bonkerschnitzel. Tha-thats literally… its beyond bonkers. It's bonkerschnitzel to just - because you feel like it. To pretend you were never ever totally cool with being in a video and totally gave permission does not like "I JUST FILMED SOMEONE SLEEPING" it's not how it went. They say they expect to receive proof that everything is gone within five days, and it's like dude, come on. Wha? This just makes me think why do I work with anyone ever? Why do I have anyone in my videos ever? If down the line they are just gonna cause an issue. I just want to make awesome funny videos, and if I can't make an awesome funny video with someone without them worrying that later on they'll be like "I dont want this video out there anymore" its like ugh you're ruining everything!! Anyway they say if I don't comply with their demands it's going to result in a cause of action. I dont know what that means. It says I should govern myself accordingly. Again, question mark. Anyway, its cute that they think they can just pretend permission was never given to something even though it is beyond obvious that permission was given for something. But in no rational world does this hold merit. In fact I have my phone here, lets see if we can call call this guy (G = Greg, M = Manager) G: Hi I got an email that says I need to remove videos with an artist of yours. M: Yeah G: Yeah M: Greg? G: Yeah. M: This is her manager. Uh, hi Greg. G: Permission to use those videos is beyond obvious. M: uh, what is it written? Can you send me a document where she signed off to agree to do that? G: Are you saying I had a gun to her head? M: No I'm not saying I had a gun to her head, I'm asking for the agreement. Can you send it to me? Then we're good to go. G: Yeah, well to prove in any court that someone was unwillingly participating in a video I would be amazed to see that happen. M: Yeah well if you give me your address we can get to court if that's required. I'm asking you, one professional to another, uh, these videos are six years old to remove those videos completely from your site and to have some human decency to get that - G: You realise these are comedy sketches right? And when you volunteer to be in a comedy video sketch and its beyond obvious that someone is willingly volunteering in the sketch does that seem, uh, wait Ok lets be real and honest real quick ok? It's obvious she's voluntarily in the videos. It's obvious. Like there's no situation in which you say "oh that person wasnt willingly in a video?" cause they are. It's obvious! M: Oh.. ok I'm not interested in a debate - G: That's because the debate doesnt work in your favor. it's so obvious like do you understand that if somebody is doing something that they're either willingly doing it or they're not willingly doing it which means someone's holding them at ransom or something. M: okay well again - G: You know you're wrong is my point? M: Whether I'm wrong or right is not relevant to this discussion G: It's totally important. M: What I'm asking you to do is to simply take those videos down. If you wanna send me your information, if you want to escalate this, I am more than happy to escalate this to a court and lets see what they say. G: Oh my god, so you know for a fact that this person is willingly in those videos, yet you're gonna escalate this to a court because you're so dishonest? it's so obvious that somebody is in the videos willingly and you know this. Yet you're gonna try and take legal action against somebody despite the fact you are so obviously wrong? M: Greg, let me tell you something G: Just be a real human, just be a real person dude. You know they were willingly in those videos. M: So do me a favor and send me your contact information - G: you're trying to avoid the real conversation because you know you're wrong M: I'm not having this conversation because it's not a conversation I want to have G: because you're wrong. you are so wrong. you know they are voluntarily in that video. why would they be in costume? why would they be in costume? why would they be in costume, acting, playing a character unless they were voluntarily in the video? And they were compensated! They were compensated! M: if you're going to do all the talking, this is going to be a one way conversation. G: because your only response is "Send me your address" thats just creepy. M: No, I'm not asking for your address, send me your attorneys address and I'm happy to escalate this if you want too. G: why would I waste money proving on that someone was who was obviously in a video was obviously in a video voluntary? M: then simply take the videos down they're volunt- G: WHY WOULD I DO THAT WHEN I OWN THESE? Ok I paid this actor through housing, through food etc M: How much did you pay her, I'm sorry? G: Housing, food, et cetera, plane tickets, everything. M: Do you have a contract? G: Do I have proof that the person was voluntarily in the video you fucking idiot? M: No do you have a contract? G: YOU ARE A FUCKING IDIOT DUDE. THEY WERE OBVIOUSLY VOLUNTARY BECAUSE THEY'RE IN A COSTUME, THEY'RE PLAYING A ROLE. THERE'S NO GUN TO THEIR HEAD HOW FUCKING STUPID DO YOU HAVE TO BE? M: actually there was a gun in that video if i recall G: OH MY GOD YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT ITS OBVIOUSLY A FAKE GUN. Are you actually saying you're going to try and prove in court that they are actually held at gunpoint to do a video? You are so fucking stupid. You are a fraud. You are a fucking fraud. M: Greg, if you continue to disparage me, this conversation is over. G: you are not a real human. you're not a real human. you can't have a conversation M: Right, and the only person who has been talking is you. G: Actually you've been talking too Mr Technical. -CALL END- Alright, so that guy is a jerk [LAUGH] I have to make that whole phone call private, only patrons are going to hear it, it might not even be on there for long … patron only thing? I cant believe this. I just [exhales air] This guy, I'm on the phone with this guy. and he's literally saying this person wasn't voluntarily in there if i dont have a contract with them when they're obviously voluntarily in the video. they're in costume, they're acting out a character. Like this is the world we live in were someone who is obviously participating in something and someone is gonna be like "Well technically I'm taking this to court" ANYWAY. So I really really dont like that fella. In fact lets call him back. [VOICEMAIL] Aww he didnt answer. Darn it, anyway. So, feel free to let me know what you think in the comments. Should someone be able to revoke permission to be in a video because down the line they are no longer happy about the fact that they were in comedy sketches forever ago? Should people do that? Ugh I'm so frustrated. This is the differenc between honest, saying yeah, I volunteered to be in this video all that time ago so I can't take away that rights or anything like that, and someone who is like in the most not honest way possible, lash out at this person from so many years ago by taking away something that isn't even mine. I just can't believe that question. Is it in writing? As to whether or not that person was voluntarily in that video. Because are you not human? Can you not see with your eyes that that person is literally in costume, in character right there totally willing. Like what do they think happened? I'd like for them to explain a situation where that person wasn't voluntarily there. Like any proof whatsoever. That that person wasn't voluntarily there. if you look at comedy sketch after comedy sketch after comedy sketch, they are there, recording in different costumes and I have all the behind the scenes footage too! So I can literally prove all the conversations that we had, there was nothing except them volunteering to be there. In fact I have footage of that person asking to continue recording a video even though I had stopped recording with them, because I knew I could play the character better than they could in that scene. And they were like "no no no I wanna continue". It's one thing to have something in writing, but to have someones voice and face on film saying they want to be on video? You lost.

#onision #thank you based transcript annon

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scatteredenthusiasm-blog · 7 years ago

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24-hour Tech Break: Reflections and Realizations from a Screenless Day

For 24-hours this weekend, I joined up with Imaginarium and took a tech break. Starting at 6pm on Friday and going until 6pm on Saturday, I turned my phone off – not “do not disturb” or airplane mode, but just completely off. I closed my computer and iPad as well and zipped them up in my workbag and put them in my closet, out of sight and relatively out of mind. During my time away from screenland, I had a few realizations that I want to share.

Before that, I do want to acknowledge one thing.

I understand that people have actual hardships in life, and that taking a 24-hour tech break is not one of them. And I know a 24-hour tech break sounds like something that would be recognized at the Millennial’s Choice Awards.

“Oh my god, is that the guy that did the 24-hour tech break?” “Wow, I can’t believe it’s him!” “I thought he died at hour 13.” “No, the doctors actually rushed in and were able to resuscitate him after the 24th. That’s why he’s the guest of honor at this year’s MCA’s.”

Anyway, you get the point. But here’s what I learned.

Silence is Golden (for real)

I didn’t realize how much of the day my attention and thoughts were being guided by noise. My typical daily routine consists of nonstop noise.

When I wake up I put in headphones first thing and listen to a podcast while I make coffee and breakfast, then I take out the headphones to write my morning journal of three pages by hand, then the headphones go back in and I clean up breakfast. Next up I swap out headphones for Spotify to play on my phone while I shower and get ready for the day, then I go headphones again and get my stuff together to head out the door. As I get in my car, I switch from headphones to my car audio, so I’m either listening to music (SiriusXM Fly channel 47, 90′s-00’s hip-hop and r&b, to be precise), or I’m making calls. My workday then consists of either interviewing people, training, staff meetings, or doing in-home sales presentations, which is pretty much me talking 80% of the time, which is just more noise. During a lunch break, or anytime between appointments/meetings, I toss the headphones back in and pick back up on a podcast. Eventually I hop back in the car to head home, so it’s back to music or phone calls. When I get home, the headphones go back in as I cook dinner, and then they come out as I eat dinner while catching up on the previous night’s Late Night with Seth Meyers (and other shows) on my DVR. As that finishes, I’m mindlessly scrolling through social media, just refreshing stuff waiting for the next little dopamine hit that is a new post, story, article, etc. To end the day, I toss the headphones back in while I do dishes, I still have them on as I get ready for bed, and then I pop them out only to fall asleep to Netflix on my iPad that is a foot away from my face, which I then wake up to 30-minutes later to find it still playing, so I close the case and go back to sleep.

Whew. That looks WAY worse typed out. From the moment I get out of bed to when I fall asleep (for the second time), it’s just noise-noise-noise-noise-noise-noise-noise-noise, with zero breaks.

My first realization during the tech break was how vital the silence was. I needed it desperately. The silence revealed to me exactly how much noise I fill my day with.

I like to think of clarity of mind as a mirror that I’m looking into. Every bit of noise throughout the day adds a little fog to it. Podcasts – fog, phone calls – fog, texts – fog, every refresh of social media – fog (and fog and fog and fog and fog). These things aren’t inherently bad on their own, but my relationship (or addiction, really) to them is unhealthy, because I let them fog the mirror all day.

The silence, however, is the only thing that would clear the mirror. Each hour of silence during the tech break was a small wipe across the mirror, until finally the fog was gone, which happened maybe at hour 17. The more fog you put on the mirror, the longer it takes to clear it.

When the mirror finally cleared, I was reminded of who I am and what I want to do with my energies that particular day. My creative juices started to flow, I had three or four short story ideas come up, and I was able to look in the mirror and see what the next right thing to do was. When the mirror is foggy, I don’t have a chance at seeing the next right thing. I’ll get an idea, but then a Facebook notification will completely derail that train of thought. With a clear mirror, I was able to think through a story idea completely uninterrupted, even sketching out a quick outline so I could return to it later.

Silence is vital, and it brings clarity along with it. I don’t mean that you have to treat your tech break like a silent retreat – you can talk to anyone you’d like in person – but when I say silence I really mean just a break in the noise of screenland, whether the screen is making noise or not. The silence recharged my batteries.

Productivity

Without the constant interruptions of noise, I was able to accomplish more tasks in my 24-hour tech break than I had done in the first two months of the year. I always have a running list of things I’d like to get done around my house on a day off, but then stuff comes up and those things get pushed aside, or I’ll start one project and then come back the next weekend and try to finish it, usually leaving it 75% done.

Over the 24-hour tech break, I did laundry (sheets, towels, clothes), reorganized my bedroom, cleaned out my car, deep cleaned my entire house (not just dusting and cleaning the floors, but like the scrubbing the shelves of my fridge kind of deep cleaning), raked leaves, pulled weeds, trimmed all my hedges, bought new succulents for inside, moved everything off my front porch, swept the floor, wiped down the furniture, and then rearranged the layout of the porch, I read 50+ pages of a book, I wrote my three morning journal pages, wrote 50% of this post (by hand, of course), I cooked, and I got rid of (donated) two trash bags full of clothes I haven’t worn since I moved into this house in 2016.

All done in 24-hours, with ~8 of those hours spent sleeping.

I don’t mind a good day or two of cleaning and organizing because I would usually catch up on podcasts or listen to music while I did those things. But without any distractions from noise or screenland, I was able to accomplish each task in about 60% of the time they would normally take because I was solely focused on that particular task.

For example, if I have headphones in while trimming hedges, I’ll come across a song I don’t want to listen to on a playlist, so I’ll get my phone out of my pocket to change songs, but then I’ll see an Instagram notification, and when I open Instagram I’ll see some new stories pop up, then I’ll comment on a friend’s story, which will remind me to text another friend back about something else, and then 10-minutes go by and I’m standing on a ladder with hedge clippers in one hand and my phone in the other, all while my playlist is now 5 songs past the one I wanted to skip in the first place. When finally get back to work on the hedges, another song will come on that I don’t want to listen to, and the cycle starts over.

(Exhale) I told you my relationship to screenland was unhealthy.

Without my phone in my pocket, I was not only able to complete the tasks much quicker, but I was also able to do them better because they had my full attention. Instead of just buying new succulents and putting them in new pots, I cleaned out all of the old pots and mixed in new dirt for the succulents I already had. At the end of the day, I was tired, but it was that good kind of tired, where you’re proud of your work.

I was at my most productive when the mirror wasn’t fogged.

Constant Contact

Last point, so I’ll make it quick.

I was stunned at how many times I would think of something that would make me reach for my phone to text a friend. The smallest thought would pop in my head, and I’d reach for my pocket for a phone that wasn’t even there because my first instinct is, “Oh, I gotta text that person about that.” I do that ALL DAY, which puts me in constant contact with so many different people. The reaction to reach for my phone was Pavlovian like.

The shirt I wore yesterday was one I bought in Encinitas last year when I was visiting my friend Luke, and I thought, “Oh, I need to send him a picture of this shirt.” Later on I was getting my golf clubs out of my car and thought, “Oh, I need to see if my friend Patty wants to walk 9-holes tomorrow because the weather is so nice.” Then I found an old jacket from college that made me think, “Oh, I need to send a picture of this to my friends because it reminds me of this thing we did back in 2009.” This routine happened over and over and over and over.

Again, texting my friends isn’t a bad thing – in fact, it may be a nice pick me up for both of us in the process. But the quick reaction to reach for my phone anytime those thoughts popped in my head scared me. It was like I was desperate to be in constant contact with a bunch of people all day, and that constant contact is going to add more and more fog to the mirror, distracting me from writing, cleaning, reading, or whatever I want to spend my energies on. Plus, each time I open my phone to send one of those texts, I’m more likely to come across something else on that shiny, 5.5” screen that will take me down a different rabbit hole, which will, in the end, make me forget to send the original text.

The break from constant contact was incredibly calming.

If you read one part, let it be this

As the clock approached 6pm, I started to get a little sad. I wasn’t ready for the tech break to be over. I wasn’t ready to return to my old way of doing things. Texts, calls, social media, emails – I knew it would all come flooding back with the press of one button. Or even worse, what if no texts came flooding in? OR, what if only one text came in and it was from the pharmacy saying that my monthly prescription was ready for pickup? That wasn’t the case, but I digress…

I loved my time off of the grid, and quite frankly, I liked no-tech Jeremy a lot better than screenland Jeremy. It reminded me of being a kid, when I could jump from task to task, pursuing whatever interested me at the moment, free of anything buzzing or lighting up in my pocket, and solely focused on what was right in front of me at that exact moment in time. I got out of my own head. The mirror was clear.

A power shift had taken place – one I was dying for and didn’t even know it. For the first time in probably a decade, I owned my phone instead of my phone owning me.

So going forward, I’ll make some adjustments to my routine: I’m going to limit the amount of time headphones are in my ears, I’ll swap out Netflix for a book before I go to sleep (because I know I don’t need to watch all of The Office for the millionth time), I will leave my phone in a different room of my house when I want to get stuff done, and I’ll continue not checking social media before noon, which I’ve been doing for Lent this year.

If you’d like to try a 24-hour tech break, here are my suggestions:

1. Do it over a regular weekend at your house, because it’s easier to analyze your habits when you are in your typical routine. If you do it outside of your routine, then you’ll have other distractions to keep you away from technology in the first place, which won’t reveal your tech instincts enough. It’s best to have as little planned as possible.

2. Get someone else to do it that doesn’t live with you, because it’s a nice little encouragement to know other people out there are doing it as well.

3. Keep a notepad with you and write down your accomplishments every time you complete one. By the end of the day, you’ll be shocked at what all you’ve done.

I know one tech break isn’t a cure all, so I’m planning on doing this once a month for the rest of the year. In the meantime, I’ll be working hard to keep the mirror clear.

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lonedailydoodle · 7 years ago

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Daily Doodle 224/365 - August 12, 2017

DUST BUNNIES!? IN MY ROOM!?!?

WREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

Today I woke up early again.. I just can’t sleep after I’ve played Minecraft for a whole day.. my eyes also don’t like it.. I dream of mines, and the thought of me having not finished that open mine I was doing haunts me

I got up and got on the game and tried my best to do progress on that mine.. but it’s just so big.. so many blocks.. it’s gonna take me an eternity to mine, but oh well

After playing for about 30 or so minutes, I stopped and decided to do a single chore I got told to do, which was clean the roof. I did so real quick, was told to remove some plants but canceled that cuz they had ants under them, then returned to my room. There I decided to add a chore to my short list

I still have a rule in my room where footwear is left at the door so no dirt gets inside.. this doesn’t prevent dust from getting into my room though.. thus dust bunnies go crazy, and I DO NOT LIKE dust bunnies! As soon as I see one of those clumps, I grab it and throw it in my trash bin, they annoy me so much to look at, uuuugh

After that was done, I got paid for a commission and got a massive tip (Thanks! <3) then started work on the sketch for it. I then got called by Pixie who wanted to play again after a commission he was sketching out real quick as well. He finished before me but I got delayed cuz of fixing this sketch and getting it up to the commissioner’s requests

I got that done and we got in the game. We didn’t do anything highly different than previous days except try to revive the village our base is next to.. it was frustrating.. Pixie also went to the Nether a lot and also died a few times.. RIP XP

Our goal is to get enough diamonds for diamond armor and good bows to go to The End and beat the boss. The End portal is right under our base, so we have that to help us.. but finding diamonds for armor is hard, even in that open mine I did, it’s not being as efficient as I want it to

While playing, my bro brought his car over to clean and install a new horn and alarm on. I mention this because his car is what used to be my car more than a year ago. If you want to browse my 2016 doodles, you’ll see the transition I did from angry car doodles with my old car breaking down to happy car doodles with my new car and me exploring all it’s new features and how it felt to drive a modern car. For reference, my current car is from 2014.. my old car was from 1997

Even if I do NOT want to drive that car daily anymore, I do want to test drive it again to see how it used to be, it feels like it’s been forever.. now, I just hope it doesn’t break down on me if I test drive it

Anyways, after the game, my eyes were sore cuz since I play in the Windows 10 version of Minecraft, I gotta stay with the game open so the server stays open and Pixie doesn’t run into problems.. but this doesn’t give me a proper break. We will take more breaks from it though, Pixie will be bored but my eyes will appreciate it

Nothing much happened for the rest of the day after that but I DID find this super adorable tiny fridge/heater on Amazon I want to buy someday. It’s so small you can fit only 6 cans of soda inside, which is the PERFECT size for something I would want in my room. I can keep snacks in it and stuff!! Maybe if I get enough commissions in a week, I can order one to keep me well fed without me hesitating to get off my PC

Lots of stories today, wow

#365 art challenge #365 challenge #daily doodle 2017 #daily doodle #doodle #jeany545 daily doodle #art

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your-captain-here · 7 years ago

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Tides of Memories Gone By

The barber tittered at the long blonde strands, running them through her fingers before dampening them in a basin of water. “It’s a real shame you’re cutting all of this off. I know a few girls who’d go real violent to get a head of hair like this.” Flynn could only fidget in the seat, mumbling a non-committed response while he stared himself in the mirror. With that the barber started snipping and Flynn shut his eyes.

That was how the morning started, and like he always said, an uncomfortable morning meant a uncomfortable day. It felt the part, even though the waves broke gently on the hull of his ship as they sailed towards a near destination. “Cap’n.” Announced the first mate, a stout grey haired human with hair coming out of every place imaginable. “We’ll be arrivin’ shortly. Are you sure you’re wantin’ to go ashore alone? They don’t exactly like our kind here.” With a big ol’ sigh Flynn pushed away from the rail, mind in every other place than the one it needed to be. “They never like our kind. That’s the way it goes with us outlaws. They’ve got masts up their arses and the light ain’t seen them in who knows how long…but it’s that time of year and I gotta go.” Fredricks fussed on the matter before relenting, passing the orders along to prepare for a docking.

And so he found himself on a dinghy, one of the crew rowing him towards the island. ‘New Kul’ as he referred to it was a sort of retreat for folk who missed the Kul’tiras that was, mostly old admirals and lost navymen. Of course, it didn’t stop any of them from having resentment for someone who chose a less glorified path. Somehow despite all of their losses they still liked to pretend they were all Admirals of fleets and that their names meant something. The ‘fleet’ was a paltry one frigate and a few galleys, but there was barely any space or good shoring to actually shore them. Instead they loomed out on the horizon, only allowing them passage after a few changes of the flag marked Flynn as someone with business on the Island. The shore neared and the Captain looked to the burly Draenei rowing them along. “I’ll be back in two hours. Nothing’ll happen. They hate my guts, but not enough to risk having their little slice of paradise getting’ shot at.” The blue horned creature grunted out something in an accent quite too thick for Flynn to get a handle on, but it sounded close enough to an acknowledgement and that’s all he ever needed.

The water lapped at his knees when he slipped out of the dinghy, warm on a summer day. Step by step he made it to the sand, a few sailors giving him looks of discomfort and general disgust. They didn’t matter, never would, but part of his pride always hated dirty looks like that. When folk started having contempt for other folk for no real good reason than ‘taste’. Fingers brushed through his shortened strands, not used to having any brushing his face because he could normally tie it up. Boots trudged along until he was on the Southmost shore.

She was where he expected her to be. Where she always had been for the past three years.

Where once there was a bounty of golden hair had given away to ash, the remaining blonde bleached by years spent under the sun. Skin near tough as leather and just as tan. She spent every day wandering the shore, picking up shells and lost treasures that’d wash up. Sometimes he’d just take a trip to watch her, see how long she’d go at it, or if something ever did change. Rarely did anything happen, but she’d cry or laugh or scream and he thought that maybe it was a memory that she was trying to hold onto coming back for just a moment. It hurt every time and talking to her would hurt even more. He spent the better part of ten minutes beating on a tree, muffling some cries of discomfort and hurt. It had been too long since the last time and the guilt was starting to build on him. With a deep breath he composed himself, wiping his face clean with a handkerchief. Quietly he waded out to meet her. “You find anything special today, Miss?”

Always did the woman look lost. With a fretful startle she looked up to him, brows furrowing for just a moment, something behind her eyes trying to grasp desperately. It was gone as quick as it came. “Oh…I’m afraid not, just a few shells. Mayhaps I’ll make them into a bracelet. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to…?” Flynn looked down at the net she held in between thin digits, like wrinkled spider legs. “I’m yo-…I’m Captain Flynn, just here on business, Miss. Do you need help with that?” Ever so gently he plucked up the net from her fingers, taking a peek inside. There wasn’t enough shells for a bracelet, not that she’d ever get around to making it. Come morning she’d forget about it. The woman stared at him, working her jaw back and forth before sighing rather fretfully. “Ah, thank you Captain. You’re a sweet boy, and so young for your station. You remind me of my son. He had a look like yours, I think.” Flynn gave her a pained look, fidgeting with the net and inclining his head. “I get that a lot. Have the stereotypical sailor look, yea? Blonde Captains are a dime a dozen.” That got a laugh out of her, whispery quiet and sad in origin. “Well, that may be…but I’m sure plenty a young lady loves it anyway.” There he couldn’t help but smile, bending down to scoop up a shell. “This one looks nice. A real piece of desk decoration. It’d look lovely in your hair, Miss.” He did his best to fit it in, but instead it just plopped on the sand. The woman peered some at his face, reaching up to gently cup it. “You…remind me so much of someone. I wish I could put my finger on it.”

As always the Captain hated this part. The delicate line between humoring her and hurting them both, or breaking his heart. As selfish as he was, he could never be greedy around her. Never could he take from her. “Just a sailor, Miss. Just a man trying to help a handsome woman.” That got a pout and a sigh from her. “Well, I need a few more shells, so this Lady would happily accept your help.” The hour went by too quick for his taste, two forlorn figures wandering the shore and picking it for relics. Eventually it had to end like it always did. Standing up from the net he offered a sad smile. “I’m afraid this is where we part, Miss. I do have some business on the island, with Admiral Walters.” That got a faint wisp of recognition, the woman fluttering her fingers around her net and hugging it close. “Ah, my husband. Do tell him to take better care of himself. The man is always indoors these days. It’s terribly poor for his health.” The Captain smiled and sketched a bow for her, digging into his pouch and producing a little brown bag. “I have some fudge. I don’t have a terrible sweet tooth, so it’d make me happy if you took it.” The Lady took it and stared blankly. “Fudge…yes, fudge’s my favorite. It’s funny that you have it. My son Han would always sneak boxes into my room.” A smile reached her eyes, just this once, and she looked up. The warmth left her face and she offered a startled breath. “Oh, I’m sorry Sir, I didn’t see you there. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to…?”

Sometime later he made it to the manor, one of the few buildings on the island. It housed all of the persons of interest and repute. It was a surprise that the place hadn’t burned down with so much ego in one building, but he supposed if there was one thing a bunch of Admirals and Captains could agree on, it was preserving the one place worth sleeping in. The man at the door, some bored, squat sailor recognized him on his climb. “Ah, the prodigal son returns, come to give your father and outlaw to arres-“ Flynn shoulder checked him, pressing a forearm to his windpipe and shoving a stern finger in front of his face. “Not. Another. Word.” Flynn hissed to him, shoving the man off the steps to stumble in the dirt with a curse. He didn’t waste a second look, strolling in to where his boots click-clacked against the marble floor. A piece of Kul’tiras that should’ve sank with the island.

The Admiral’s study sat tucked in the northeast most corner. The door pushed open with a creak and the smell of stale vomit and rum met his nose. That was always a bad sign, rum meant he couldn’t afford the whiskey these days. “Admiral Walters.” He inquired, and a voice croaked from behind a cushiony chair facing the fireplace. Flynn went wide around to poor the man a thimble of rum. The hair of the dog that bit you, so they said, but this reality was just an alcoholic’s kick. A hand feebly reached out for it, bringing it to a pair of dry lips that eagerly sucked it down until the man was coughing from the burn. Admiral Walters still cut a strong figure, ash hair cut short and combed back, broad shoulders still possessing strength. And two blue eyes stared cold at him. “Han.” He grumbled, setting the thimble down and giving the low-burning fireplace a glare. “Come to torture your mother, I suppose. Did you do the ‘I’m your son bit’ this time?” Flynn flinched, turning to pour himself a swallow of rum. “I didn’t think it…right to do that. Not this year. She seemed too frail today.” A cackling laugh broke off the walls and the Admiral sat up in his seat. “How terribly noble. I suppose when you’re not stealing from people and smuggling your way into lawful cities you find a piece of where you came from.” The Captain squinted into his glass, deciding he needed another swallow to help smooth the conversation along. “This rum’s shit, dad. Stick to whiskey. At least you know a little about it.”

Admiral Walters scoffed at that. “Well, I have a bottle stashed away for when the sea decides to claim this island too, don’t you worry. I’ll die drunk on something worthwhile.” There was a begrudging silence before Han pushed off the counter to bring the bottle to his father. “I met a woman. Don’t call her a whore, just warning you ahead of time.” That earned him a glare of disdain before he took the bottle, taking a swig straight from the neck. “Yes, well, I’m sure she must be a woman of taste then, spending her time with a man of such good standings.” They both collectively rolled their eyes, Han snatching the bottle to have his own swig to the quiet complaint of Walters. “She treats me right, and just a little bit she reminds me of mom, so behave. I have a present for you.” Digging into his vest he produced a slip of paper, settling it on the stand by the Admiral’s chair. Walters flipped on a pair of glasses to give the paper a looksee. “A bank note..this is…where..” Flynn waved a hand, looking out the window to where the morning was turning near into the afternoon. “It’s enough to fund your drinking here. Enough to keep her cared for, even if you spend like an ass. Have someone you trust exchange it, not the tool at the door. He’s like to run off with it.” There was another silence between the two before Han turned on a heel. “Been a pleasure as always, dad. Try to eat sometime. Take care of mom.” At the door his father made a sound, clearing his throat. “She…she doesn’t have much time Han. They brought a Doctor by. She’s sick. Has maybe a few more months before she’s gone. Try to be around when she goes, she’d like to have you there.” The Captain waited at the threshold, staring out into the lobby with a sniff. “We all die alone, dad. Always been that way. I’ll be there.”

The voyage home was spent in his cabin, fussing over a photograph he had slipped under the bed mattress. A proud, well-dressed man and his wife stood over a cheery young man straight out of school. It reminded him that he hated the sea. It took too much and gave nothing

#Flynn #Me write gud

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