#cemetary-blunts

[sweetyyhippyy]

Meeting Mom. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *Fluff*

Summary: Eddie tells his girlfriend about his mom for the first time. He also takes her to go visit her on an important date.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: Mention of Eddie smoking weed. Eddie talking about his mom and some cute stories about her. Eddie obviously being sad about his mom being gone. Eddie and reader being at a cemetary.

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The storm had knocked out the whole apartment complex's power, luckily Eddie decided to stay the night with her to keep her company and keep her safe- he would use any excuse to spend the night with her.

She shuffles back into her room, turning her flashlight off once it lands on Eddie in her bed, an ashtray laying on his stomach and a half smoked blunt between his lips.

The ember end of the blunt guides her back to the bed, laying next to Eddie and resting her head on his shoulder.

Eddie takes one more large hit before coughing heavily. “Shit.” He mutters once his lungs fill with clean air. Putting the small stub in the glass tray and placing it on the bedside table.

She giggles against his warm skin, looking up at him. “You alright there, Smokey?” She teases.

He huffs out a laugh as he settles into bed with his girlfriend’s bed with her, resting his arm around her shoulder. “I’m testing out a new strand Rick got. It’s a little strong but good.”

She hums happily against him, kissing the pale skin. “Can I ask you something?”

“If you were a worm, yes I would still love you. I’d love you a little less, but I would still love you.”

She giggles at his response, playfully pushing his side. “Not that question you dweeb. And good to know you would love me less if I was a worm.” She scoffs.

Eddie chuckles deeply, stamping out the end of the blunt in the ashtray. “What do you want to know?”

She flips onto her stomach, lightly touching his undershirt. “The other day when I came over, you were talking about going to Crawford and you sounded sad. Was everything okay?”

The room grows quiet for a while, just low thumps coming from the apartment above hers.

“I’m sorry, did I bring up something I wasn’t supposed to?” She asks, breaking the silence in the room.

“Oh, no baby, no. It’s just um… you just overheard kind of a deep conversation.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He says. “Um… the anniversary of my mom’s death is next weekend, so I’m going to go visit her at the cemetery.”

Eddie never talked about his mom with her, it was one of the walls that he still had up. She understood that it was a hard subject and she never pried. The only thing that she knew was that her name was Elizabeth and she had big curly dark brown hair, just like his.

“Aww, baby I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She moves up the bed, kissing his cheek softly.

“I think she would have liked you.” He smiles to himself warmly, touching her lower back, drawing small circles under her shirt. “She, uh,” He laughs to himself. “She liked to paint and draw. I would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes- I was a bad sleeper as a kid- I think I got it from her, because she would be in the kitchen at like 3 am with all of her paintbrushes, her paints, and canvases. She liked to paint nature a lot, like the woods in our backyard and if she took me to the park in our neighborhood, she would paint the field that was next to it, it was full of these yellow flowers she loved. Yellow was her favorite color.” He was glad that the room was dark because he could feel tears fill his eyes.

“That’s where you get your love artistic stuff from, hm?” She says, touching his face softly, hearing the sadness in his tone.

“Yeah. She tried to teach me how to paint stuff, but I was better at painting the linoleum floor in the kitchen.” He laughs deep from his belly. “She started to teach me how to draw, and that I was good at. She would get so excited when I would draw stuff on her Mother’s Day cards or her birthday cards. There was one Christmas, it was the Christmas before… before she passed… I worked on this picture of these yellow flowers that had this like pink trim or something around it. I surprised her with the picture and she loved it, she put it in a frame, hung it on the wall in her and my dad’s bedroom.” Eddie sniffles, tears now rolling down his cheeks.

“Oh, honey.” She whispers, kissing his cheek.

Eddie wipes his eyes, clearing the hoarseness that was in his throat. “She loved it. She kept all the shit I drew for her. After my dad got locked up and Wayne came to get me, I found this huge box with all the cards and drawings I did for her. I was such an angry little shit head at that time, I wanted to throw it in the trashcan and burn it. But Wayne put it in the back of his truck and took it with us, he has it somewhere in the trailer.” He stays quiet for a few seconds before sniffling. “I loved her so much… she was my best friend.”

The lights flick back on, making her jump slightly. The lights illuminate Eddie’s wet brown eyes, his dark eyelashes damp from his tears.

She swipes her thumb across his cheek, her other hand wiping the single tear rolling down his cheek. “Thank you for telling me about her. I can tell where you got that big, loving heart from.”

Eddie nods his head, smiling at her. “Can I ask you something?”

“About you being a worm?” She jokes, trying to take the heaviness off his heart.

Eddie laughs, his round eyes scanning her face slowly, looking at every little detail carefully. “Do you want to take the ride with me to go see her? Introduce you guys to each other?”

“Oh, Eddie.” She coos. “You really want to?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time for you to meet her. The only two women I’ve loved in my whole life.”

Her heart flutters at his words, making her own eyes water. “I would love to come.”

***

Elizabeth “Lizzie” Munson. Loving sister, daughter, wife, and “mommy” Born: May 2, 1939. Died August 28, 1972

“Hey, mom.” Eddie smiles, taking the dead flowers from the hole next to her headstone and replacing them with new ones. “I brought someone for you to meet.” He turns to look at his girlfriend, motioning her to come closer.

She smiles at Eddie before walking next to him, laying her own flowers that she bought down. “Hi.” She says, looking at the picture of her etched into the headstone. “Wow, you do look a lot like her.” She says to Eddie, smiling fondly at the black and white picture.

Eddie chuckles, sitting on the green grass below them. “Yeah, everyone said that I stole her entire face. My dad’s genes didn’t stand a chance. Here, come sit.” He pats a spot next to him.

“Hold on, I have one thing I wanted to show her, if you don’t mind.” She says, digging into her back pocket.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her in confusion.

She unfolds the long wrinkled piece of paper, flattening it out as best she can against her leg. “Eddie told me about how you taught him how to draw. He’s drawn a lot of pictures for me since we’ve been together, and I keep everything just like you did. He told me about this picture that you were so proud of him doing and I asked Wayne to find it for me.” She bends down, placing the paper right under the headstone and grabbing a few rocks on top to weigh it down. “I wanted you to see it again.”

Eddie peeks over her shoulder, seeing the drawing he did back Christmas 1971 of the yellow and pink flowers he drew for her. He bites his bottom lip to keep it from wobbling while he openly cried. “Babe.”

She turns to look at him, her own eyes wet too. “I wanted it to be a surprise. For both of you.” She sits next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Eddie wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

She lifts her head up and kisses his jaw lovingly. “Of course.” She says softly. “You know, for you only being 6 when you drew that, you were really good.”

Eddie smiles warmly, looking at his girlfriend. “Been a long time since I drew stuff like that. After my mom died, I started doing ‘darker’ stuff. Characters I would come up with and stuff when I started doing stuff with D&D, writing campaigns was easier when I had faces to names. Then when you came along, started drawing stuff for you and my art got happier. You made me happier than I had been since I lost my mom.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest at his last sentence, somehow falling more in love with him. “I’m glad I can make you happier, baby. I always want to make you as happy as I can. You deserve to be happy.”

***

“Put your trash in here, I’ll go throw it in the trash.” She holds open the paper bag they brought their picnic lunch in, throwing the discarded items in.

“Thank you, baby. Why don’t we head out? It’s going to start getting cold soon.” Eddie says.

“Yeah, okay. I”ll meet you at the car.” She smiles as she stands up, turning toward the headstone. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Munson. Hopefully I can come back soon. I’ll take care of your boy.”

Eddie watches as she walks away, warmly smiling at her. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m planning on marrying her, mom. She’s the right one.”

[tabletopmonsteroftheweek]

Community Monster #1- The Eldritch Corpse

That’s a wrap for the community Build-a-Monster! Well, more like Build-a-Threat, but still! Since the winning weakness was very descriptive as to what it was, I took it as its description. Next time I might let yall think of one, but for this I think it was perfect!

I took the liberty as well to create minions for the Phenomenon as well, just to balance it out some. Just like with all the ideas within this blog, you’re free to edit them to make it work for your game!

Without further adieu, here is the first Community Build-a-Threat stats!

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The corpse of an ancient godlike being was taken for study in a facility (university, science, some dude’s garage). The echoes of its eldritch power radiate outwards, infecting all nearby with its dread curse.

Phenomenon type and motivation: Teratogen (motivation: to turn creatures and people into monsters)

Effects the phenomenon has on hunters (and other bystanders) who get too close:

Rapid calcification of organic tissue

Awakening skeletons of creatures within, granting them intelligence and desires

Berserker response when injured

What its weakness is (this works differently to monster weaknesses): The corpse must be incinerated, down to the very marrow in its bones, to send it to its true death. The effects will go away, but those Calcified will remain so.

Custom moves for its effects: Calcification- Those that get too close to the corpse and its area its infecting, hunters must roll +Cool to resist the effects. On a success, their skin doesn't harden. On a mix, they get to decide: their skin doesn't calcify, or it does, granting them -1 ongoing for the rest of the mystery but they have +1 to armor. If they choose the latter, they mark experience. On a miss, their body hardens and rigids- they take -2 ongoing until they manage to get a cure, but they have +1 armor Berserker Response- Anyone that gets hurt while near or within the area the corpse is in, they fly into an uncontrollable rage. If a hunter gets hurt, have them roll +Cool. On a success, they resist the rage for the rest of the mystery. On a mix they resist for the roud, but must roll again. On a miss, they fly into a rage- they must Roll to Kick Ass on another hunter (OR the keeper chooses what damaging move they do to another hunter and they must roll accordingly- fully up to the keeper) for a round.

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The Calcified Those that were in the effects for too long became calcified and their rage everlasting. They seek to attack anything that moves at the slight provocation.

Minion type and motivation: Brute (motivation: to intimidate and attack)

Attacks and armour:

Calcified Skin (+1 armor)

Limb smash (1 harm close)

How much harm will kill it: 5

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Awakened Bones The awakened skeletons of those in the area, mostly from cemetaries, shallow graves, or backyards of a family home. They range from animal skeletons to a humans. They seem to congregate near the facility holding the corpse.

Minion type and motivation: Guardian (motivation: to bar a way or protect something) Attacks and armour.

Hardened bone (+1 armor)

Bite (1 harm intimate)

Claw (if animal) (1 harm close ignore armor)

Weakness: Blunt weaponry, like a hammer or bat.

How much harm will kill it: 5

[frontlinebicepsoftheninth]

"A Valediction Forbidding Mourning" x Harrow the Ninth

My swirling wants. Your frozen lips.

"You reached one hand out for that frozen tangle of hair at the back of the skull; you closed the gap between you, and you kissed that lovely corpse mouth."

The grammar turned and attacked me.

"You never could have guessed that he had seen me."

Themes, written under duress.

"NOW HARROWHARK THE FIRST, WRITING AS THE SAME, NOW DEAD."

Emptiness of the notations.

"Her ability to feel had been blunted, leaving only a sense of dislocated longing, a bizarre yearning as though flipping through the pages of a book for a proverb she remembered but could not find."

They gave me a drug that slowed the healing of wounds.

"Now you understood the object lesson: there was no sewing-up for you."

I want you to see this before I leave: the experience of repetition as death

"This isn’t how it happens."

the failure of criticism to locate the pain

"She died because I let her! You don’t understand!"

the poster in the bus that said: my bleeding is under control

"She took it, broke open the envelope, read the contents, and blinked; all while you siphoned blood out of your ears."

A red plant in a cemetary of plastic wreaths.

"A rubber-bodied toddler with a painted face and very red hair lay dead beside your knee and for some reason it was this that destroyed you."

A last attempt: the language is a dialect called metaphor.

"You were an unfilled hole, but even a hole might be content in its emptiness."

These images go unglossed: hair, glacier, flashlight.

"The corpse lay packed in ice, wearing a white shift, her hands clasping a frost-rimed sword, and she was beautiful."

When I think of a landscape I am thinking of a time.

"It had bewildered her, back at Canaan House, how the whole of her always seemed to come back to Gideon."

When I talk of taking a trip I mean forever.

"Harrowhark had come home, and she was not afraid."

I could say: those mountains have a meaning

"Your idiot dying mouth rounded out three totally different syllables,"

but further than that I could not say.

"And they were three syllables you did not even understand."

[masterofd1saster]

CJ current events 29aug24

Have a little respect

A 22-year-old man arrested on suspicion of murder told investigators he shot a man who threatened to puke on a grave at Crown Hill Cemetery during a memorial service for his friend. Ryan Trujillo-Falcon, 22, was arrested Sunday on suspicion of first-degree murder, second-degree assault and unlawfully carrying a concealed weapon, according to an arrest affidavit released by the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office. Trujillo-Falcon allegedly shot 20-year-old Geano Chavez and hit a woman in the head with the gun, according to the affidavit. Paramedics transported both victims to the hospital where Chavez later died from his injuries, police said. The woman was treated and released.*** Trujillo-Falcon told investigators that he arrived at Crown Hill Cemetary — located at 7777 West 29th Ave. — around 8 p.m.  Sunday and that he was there with family members and friends to pay respects to a friend who was fatally shot two years ago, the affidavit stated. While the group was standing around the grave, Chavez was starting to feel sick and told Trujillo-Falcon he needed to vomit, according to the affidavit. “[Trujillo-Falcon] told him to go to the street if he was going to get sick, but [Chavez] declined to do so and was going to vomit on the grave next to him,” the affidavit stated.***

***

This is why our constitution makes judicial appointments lifetime

CARACAS, Venezuela (AP) — Venezuela’s Supreme Court has backed President Nicolás Maduro’s claims that he won last month’s presidential election and said voting tallies published online showing he lost by a landslide were forged. The ruling is the latest attempt by Maduro to blunt protests and international criticism that erupted after the contested July 28 vote in which the self-proclaimed socialist leader was seeking a third, six-year term. The high court is packed with Maduro loyalists and has almost never ruled against the government.*** Thanks to a superb ground game on election day, opposition volunteers managed to collect copies of voting tallies from 80% of the 30,000 polling booths nationwide and which show opposition candidate Edmundo González won by a more than 2-to-1 margin. The official tally sheets printed by each voting machine carry a QR code that makes it easy for anyone to verify the results and are almost impossible to replicate. “An attempt to judicialize the results doesn’t change the truth: we won overwhelmingly and we have the voting records to prove it,” González, standing before a Venezuelan flag, said in a video posted on social media.***

***

Hm, maybe there is a crime problem

Suspect in stolen truck injures Golden officer, escapes into Denver A Golden police officer while trying to stop the driver of a stolen truck, who rammed multiple police vehicles and eventually escaped into Denver. Read more → Denver closes two public parks citing drugs sales, violence and vandalism Closing parks to clamp down on potentially dangerous and damaging behaviors is not a new approach for the city.

***

Blame the underlings and protect the headquarters

The U.S. Secret Service has placed at least five agents on leave, including the head of the Pittsburgh field office, as a result of its investigation into last month's assassination attempt against former President Donald Trump, according to multiple sources familiar with the matter.  One agent on Trump's detail and three others in the Pittsburgh office were among those placed on leave, according to two federal law enforcement sources. It's unclear if all of these actions are disciplinary, since agents are routinely placed on leave during the course of investigations for various reasons, including mental health relief. ***

***

Union boss embezzling? Say it aint so.

A federal grand jury in Kansas returned an indictment [21aug24] charging seven defendants, including five current and former high-level officers of the International Brotherhood of Boilermakers, Iron Ship Builders, Blacksmith, Forgers and Helpers (Boilermakers Union) for their alleged roles in a 15-year, $20 million embezzlement scheme. The defendants are charged with conspiracy to commit offenses under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) Act, as well as other charges including embezzlement, health care fraud, wire fraud, and theft in connection with health care and retirement plans.*** The indictment also charges Newton Jones and Creeden with wire fraud relating to their alleged demand and acceptance of no-show employment with the Bank of Labor for which they were paid more than $3.4 million each in salary, benefit contributions, and other paid benefits. The indictment additionally seeks forfeiture of $20 million.***

***

What was your first clue, Sherlock?

Man shot to death in Denver’s Lincoln Park neighborhood, police investigating as homicide A man was killed in a Friday night shooting just south of MSU Denver in Denver’s Lincoln Park neighborhood and police are investigating it as a homicide. Read more →

***

don't know who created -

***

***

Tues

Crush him

An Army soldier stationed at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson in Anchorage, Alaska, was arrested last week on criminal charges related to his alleged transportation, receipt and possession of files depicting child sexual abuse, and use of AI to generate sexually explicit images of children.*** “As alleged, Seth Herrera possessed thousands of images depicting the violent sexual abuse of children, including infants.  He also allegedly used AI to create images depicting the sexual exploitation of children he knew,” said Principal Deputy Assistant Attorney General Nicole M. Argentieri, head of the Justice Department’s Criminal Division. “Today’s announcement should serve as yet another warning that the Criminal Division will aggressively pursue those who possess or produce child sexual abuse material, including where the images were generated through AI.” According to court documents, Seth Herrera, 34, allegedly transported, received and possessed files depicting child sexual abuse. Herrera also allegedly used online AI chatbots to generate realistic child sexual abuse materials (CSAM) depicting minors known to him.*** He will make his initial court appearance on Aug. 27 before U.S. Magistrate Judge Kyle F. Reardon of the U.S. District Court for the District of Alaska. If convicted, he faces a maximum penalty of 20 years in prison. A federal district court judge will determine any sentence after considering the U.S. Sentencing Guidelines and other statutory factors.***

***

The good news is that he didn't steal or create any corpses and set them on fire

A 39-year-old man has been sentenced to 81 months in jail after hacking governments systems to fake his own death to dodge paying child support. Yes, you read that right. The press release by the US Attorney’s Office, Eastern District of Kentucky, paints a detailed picture of what went down. In January of 2023, Jesse Kipf used several stolen identities to create a case for his own death, one of which was a doctor living in another state. He used the stolen username and password of this doctor to log in to the Hawaii Death Registry System and certify his own death, using the digital signature of the doctor. Kipf admitted that one of the reasons he did this was to avoid having to pay child support. Reportedly, Kipf got a divorce in 2008 in California and owed more than $116,000 in child support obligations to his daughter and her mother, according to court documents. This was not the only time that Kipf infiltrated other states’ death registry systems, private business networks, and governmental and corporate networks. Each time by using stolen credentials. The access he gained to the systems and networks was subsequently sold on dark web forums.***

***

That's going to be ugly

Littleton police are investigating assault allegations among the Littleton High School football team, school officials announced in a letter to parents and staff Friday. School leaders learned of the allegations through an anonymous tip Thursday and began investigating, Principal Thomas Velazquez wrote in a letter to football families that was shared with the wider school community. The team’s Friday practice and dinner and Saturday scrimmage were canceled as a result, Velazquez wrote. School officials are fully cooperating with the police investigation.***

***

It's not a military operations order

For the second time, a Court of Appeals panel has ruled an Upper Peninsula city does not have the authority to withhold part of its police department's use-of-force policy, after an individual requested an unredacted copy in the wake of protests against police brutality and racial injustice during the summer of 2020. And for a second time, Sault Ste. Marie officials are weighing their legal options as they review the panel's ruling, although the Michigan Supreme Court previously declined to hear an appeal when the city asked them to weigh in last year. In Hjerstedt v. Sault Ste. Marie, a two-judge Court of Appeals panel ruled Thursday a Chippewa County judge must order the city to issue an unredacted copy of its police department's use-of-force policy, writing that the policy is not exempt from certain disclosure provisions in Michigan's Freedom of Information Act (FOIA). Along with the unredacted policy, Court of Appeals Judges Sima Patel and Stephen Borrello also ordered the city to cover the plaintiff's attorney fees and said the lower court must determine whether damages are appropriate.*** In Aug. 2020, Sault Ste. Marie city commissioners voted to issue a redacted copy of the department’s use-of-force policy to Hjerstedt, The Sault News reported. At the time, city and police officials argued that potential assailants knowing how an officer would react in a certain situation would pose a safety risk if the full policy was disclosed.***

***

What's the worst that could happen?

OKLAHOMA CITY (AP) — A body camera captured every word and bark uttered as police Sgt. Matt Gilmore and his K-9 dog, Gunner, searched for a group of suspects for nearly an hour. Normally, the Oklahoma City police sergeant would grab his laptop and spend another 30 to 45 minutes writing up a report about the search. But this time he had artificial intelligence write the first draft. Pulling from all the sounds and radio chatter picked up by the microphone attached to Gilmore's body camera, the AI tool churned out a report in eight seconds. “It was a better report than I could have ever written, and it was 100% accurate. It flowed better,” Gilmore said. It even documented a fact he didn't remember hearing — another officer's mention of the color of the car the suspects ran from. Oklahoma City's police department is one of a handful to experiment with AI chatbots to produce the first drafts of incident reports. Police officers who've tried it are enthused about the time-saving technology, while some prosecutors, police watchdogs and legal scholars have concerns about how it could alter a fundamental document in the criminal justice system that plays a role in who gets prosecuted or imprisoned.***

You sign that report, you're married to it for better and for worse....

[arobinwithoutbatman]

"Yeah but at least I'm used to it with Nightwing." Tim replied as he stood up and brushed off his knees. "We can walk and talk while we find food. I should probably eat some more too anyway, never been able to tell when I'm hungry so I just eat whatever's in front of me as long as it doesn't set off my texture issues."

He normally wouldn't admit it so blatantly but this was for Jason. To keep him distracted and grounded. If that meant accidentally getting a little too blunt and admitting things he usually kept to himself then so be it. He'll take embarrassment and disapproval over the city calling his brother back to his grave. What did he even want right now? The snacks in his pouch weren't all that appealing but he didn't want a full meal either; Alfred made more than enough at dinner. So something small. A snack but not sweet.

"What're you in the mood for anyway? We can probably find just about anything here." Draw Jason into the conversation. Give him a reason to keep taking part. And if he was purposefully heading South just so they could keep their backs to the cemetary, well he wasn't going to acknowledge it unless Jason did.

As Tim rambled on, Jason listened intently, appreciating the distraction his brother was trying to provide. The whole situation had made him uneasy, and he was grateful for Tim’s efforts to shift the focus elsewhere. Jason let out a faint chuckle at Tim’s comments about the awkward encounter with his assigned partner. He appreciated Tim’s candidness and how he could just speak his mind without any pretense.

“Some folks have no boundaries,” Jason replied, momentarily forgetting about the weight on his mind.

As Tim switched to discussing food, Jason found himself relaxing a little more. He appreciated the small talk and mundane topics that grounded him in the present moment. “You’ve made me hungry again. Maybe we can grab some after we’re done here,” he suggested, trying to get into the spirit of light conversation.

[simsitecture]

Grandrapits Central Park - 3x3 - Park

Hello all, 

I wanna start with saying I appriciate the love these past few posts are getting. Thanks to all who reposted, liked and followed. It really gives me motivation to prepare and share these builds. 

This is the central park in my custom ‘hood. It was under construction at the time I shared my nightclub lot. I’m happy to announce that it’s open for bussiness now! It has the same style with the mall and the apartments I shared before. 

You don’t have to download everything in the list, they are packaged with the lot file. However I strongly recommend using  Sims 2 Pack Clean Installer to install this lot and for all your other lot and sim installs in Sims 2.

Download here!

It doesn’t have any different cc from the previous builds. If you got those you probably won’t need to get any of the below. With that being said, the CC list is under the cut!

Build mode:

Windows - metro window set by Tiggy -MTS

Wallpaper -  Blunt Opinion by Sophie & shasta. (I couldn’t find the original post but thanks to HugeLunatic (MTS) for sharing the set on sfs)

Floor -  pink sugar bathroom stone tiles by Liz -MTS

Garden - Eponymous Garden Flax by Parsimonious

Terrain paint by CuriousB which you can find here

Buy mode:

brut pedastal sink by Janika31

luma outdoor by shoukeir

I’ve also built a cemetary, one house costing 10k and a condo with 2 apartments. As my custom hood sims are having kids and getting married bigger places were needed. I’ll try to share these as I find time.

I hope you’ll enjoy!

[elmo-is-a-forgotten-god]

TW:// mentions of death, brief family dynamics mention, losing a friend

For context this happened late last night and I’ve been trying to get as many details as possible here.

Don’t feel obligated to read this. I know it’s long.

I recently had a friend unfriend me and I wanted to vent about that a little bit. This is really long, only read it if you really want to I just really need to talk about it somewhere else.

I am also sharing this stuff so you all understand me a bit better as a person. Because it is even more challenging for me online and I don’t want to lose any more friends, especially online friends because I can’t talk to you all in person.

——————————————————————————

They have been known to do this to other people and everyone who it has happened to has still remained on the shit list. They screamed at me for over an hour on the phone because I was “a shit friend these past couple weeks or so.” They cited specific days where I didn’t answer them until later in the day and one specific day where they were stressed with school and wanted me to be there so they could vent and I could help them.

I tried explaining to them what was going on but I just ended up crying (I don’t normally cry a lot if that give you any idea how bad it was) and I didn’t get the words out. Mainly for a reason I’ll explain later but also because they sounded just like my dad when he yells and I just sorta shut down.

——————————————————————————

Now they blocked and deleted my number and blocked me on all social media. (Our mutual friends told me.). They apparently told most of our friends what a piece of shit I am and a couple other people blocked me. They wrote a whole fucking essay about it but here’s the sparknotes:

-I go through periods of time where I am not a fun person to talk to, and they like me a lot better when I don’t have an “attitude”.

They specifically cited last year from late summer to winter, you’ll see why this is important.

-last year and this year I’ve “ghosted” people around the holiday season when I know it is rough for some people.

I try to check up on my friends when I know they are going through some shit, I try to send them useful stuff as well, everyone know that.

-I am too overly blunt and honest and not good at helping people with their issues.

I know I’m too blunt and honest , and you know what? I fuck up sometimes, but I usually don’t mean anything by it I’m just trying to help. As for helping people with their issues, if I wasn’t good at it why the fuck did they come to me in the first place.

-I have a perfect life, nothing bad ever happens to me and I’m nothing but a privileged asshole who doesn’t deserve to have a friend like them. I don’t know what it’s like to go through something difficult.

I’m not going to comment on this, I know I’m privileged, but I try to do good things with it.

-I pay way too much attention to my self and I am a “self centered piece of shit for not answering their messages that one day and for not being as fast with my responses as I normally am.”

You’ll see why this was a fucked up thing to say to me in a bit, I’m just writing this out very slowly and trying to avoid that part.

-I talk about myself too much when people come to me with advice, and people “shouldn’t come to me with advice or have to take that bullshit” because I am “undeserving of being in the loop about someone’s personal issues.”

This came up because one of our friends came to me with an issue instead of them. I know I often relate things back to me I didn’t think that was a bad thing because no one told me and that is just how I help myself understand what someone is going through, but I’ll stop doing that.

-Saying things like “I need to remove myself from this area.” Is extremely disrespectful to the rest of our friend group (I literally only go by myself it doesn’t affect them). For context my adhd is extremely severe to the point it’s considered to be a learning disability, what they are referencing is when I leave to go somewhere else because I am overwhelmed and overstimulated. They literally said and I quote “that shit is total fucking bull and you know it, I have adhd too, and I’m saying you’re fucking faking.”

First off they don’t have a formal medical diagnosis, just a suspicion, they haven’t even talked to their doctor about it. Not to mention everyone is different based off of severity and which symptoms are actually present. As part of my testing we opted for the comprehensive test to look at the severity of my adhd before moving on to being treated. In that test they observed me over the course of several hours to see how I reacted to different things. The things that were expected to be the worst symptoms for me were :

difficulty understanding and relating to others (one of my strategies I was told would help is to relate others experiences to mine)

difficulty in communication; reading directly off of my sheet and I quote “Emma was observed having a difficult time using nuance and understanding when was and was not the correct time to say something. Emma’s parents describe her as: extremely blunt to the point where it can be abrasive.”

sensory: specifically when things are too quiet, I also have an issue with overly bright lighting, and when I am very overwhelmed there is only a few people who I will let touch me when I’m “wigging out”

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I know I am privileged, but I really try to use that privilege to do good things and I didn’t know that I act uptight or like a dick in that way. If I do it’s either a joke or not intentional and I apologize.

That being said, just because I am privileged doesn’t mean my life is perfect and it doesn’t mean bad things don’t happen to me, it’s beyond fucked up to think that.

(The color for things related to this)

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A lot of the things they talked about are things they know I am insecure about to begin with and they know I am working on it. Most of them are literal symptoms of my adhd and things I struggle with on the fucking daily. I’m making them a different color so you can see what I’m talking about. Here’s the adhd related color.

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Now. Some of the other things they listed were in direct relation to my grandma passing away. If you know me, you know my grandma and I were very close and she in a way was like a lot like a parent to me. She had cancer and dementia and her health started a major decline in August of 2019, I spent a lot of time with her during this time and I was constantly stressed and worried about her. I didn’t really talk a lot about it because it’s hard for me to think about but I know this friend knew about this for a goddamn fact.

This relates to this because the period of time when I had “attitude” and “wasn’t a fun person to be around” was when we found out she would have 3 months if she was lucky, I spent every day with her during this time. Yeah I think watching someone slowly die and forget who you are is reason enough to be a bit not talkitive or please not.

My grandma died on December 4th 2019. The main reason my friend snapped was because I wasn’t their to help them with their stress on December 4th 2020. (They had screenshots). They yelled at me for over an hour because of the reasons of above and mainly, MAINLY, because I didn’t text them back fast on the anniversary of my grandmas death. I WAS AT THE FUCKING CEMETARY ASSHOLE DONT YELL AT ME FOR NOT RESPONDING RIGHT AWAY.

(This is the color for things related to this)

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I’m sorry this was really long but I’m just having a rough day. I thought I could trust this person and I thought we were ok, I just wish that someone would tell everyone this, but the people that blocked me also blocked my best friends.

If you have a problem with my behavior in any way, please talk to me before something like this happens. And please know that if I seem overly blunt or like I’m trying to steal the spotlight, just know that I don’t mean to and it doesn’t come from a place of malice. I don’t want to lose any more friends.

I know I fuck up, but there is reason behind it, but unfriending someone who you’ve been friends with for 7 years because they didn’t text you back from the cemetary is fucked up, I’m pretty sure anyone can see that much.

High school drama is fucking bullshit, I hate it here.

[fayeoflightboi]

Task 001

Describe your character’s personality.

Armando is a very passive and submissive man with a complex. He’s grown from a rebellious youth to a quiet, but kind and loyal man. His sense of humor is pretty dark, but he lives his life trying to be the best person he can be.

What is your character like in relationships?

Mando has only been in two romantic relationships before and is currently single. He, sadly, has two faces: the doting boyfriend, and the wendigo. Finding it hard to balance both has made it obvious for the wendigo that he is not meant to date. 

Are they clingy?

He could be, yes.

Faithful or unfaithful?

Mando is faithful not only in romantic relationships, but platonic as well. He is also a believer of the Catholic Church.

Do they jump from one relationship to the other?

He does not.

What kind of things does your character like?

Marijuana, feeding, the woods, walks through the cemetary in the middle of the night, sports, cigars, etc.

What do they dislike?

It’s hard for Mando to dislike things or people. It would have to be a case-by-case question.

How does your character treat their friends and family?

He likes to tease, but he’s also very openly affectionate physically and verbally towards those he loves.

How about strangers?

Mando is very cordial and non-confrontational. He, however, attempts to mirror how he is treated.

Enemies?

“It is better to run and survive, than fight and die,” or so he thinks. Having been drilled from birth that everyone was out to get them simply because of their species, Mando would likely allow others to ridicule him, humiliate him, even beat him if it got him off the hook. So long as nobody finds out he’s a wendigo.

What kind of people does your character surround themselves with? Why?

Mostly those who have been there from the beginning. Most of his friends are townies, and a big part are supernatural. While he does not discriminate, Mando only allows those he knows would accept him regardless of species into his inner circle... because he doesn’t want to be hunted.

Where was your character born? Where have they lived since then? Where is the place that they call home?

Armando was born in Maroa, Venezuela but moved with his brother and mother to his grandfather’s home---who had immigrated to Autumn’s Peak in the US. While the early years were hard, Mando can now confidently say that Autumn’s Peak is his home.

Where does your character go when they are angry?

He doesn’t allow himself to be angry. Strong emotions or stressful situations can awake a hunger within him that terrifies him. He would rather smoke a blunt.

What is your character’s biggest fear? Who have they told this to? Who would they never tell this to? Why?

Losing control and shapeshifting into a wendigo’s full form. His immediate family since they all share the same fear. He would tell anyone who didn’t know what he was since he’d be outing himself. 

Does your character have a secret? If so, what is it?

Mando carries a cross of the woman he lost his virginity to. Having lost control of his hunger amidst the affair, his most primitive instincts took over.

What makes your character laugh out loud?

Everything. He laughs the most when he’s anxious or nervous.

What makes them angry?

Injustice, disrespect, bullying, etc.

Has your character ever been in love?

Yes. Brooke Carter was his best friend and even highschool sweetheart and first love. While nature outwon nurture and their relationship seemed to dangerous to continue, Mando is relieved to still be able to call her his best friend. 

Have they ever had a broken heart?

Twice. Once when he realized he was a danger to the woman he had planned to marry. Then, when he began to allow himself to start falling for a witch and ended up stealing her life. 

Does your character have any flaws? What are they?

A lot. He’s a man-eating creature riddled with self-hatred while somehow exhibiting traits of hero syndrome. 

[exjunkiebaby]

I've never been to a funeral

Not an American funeral. When i was young, I went to Guatemala to attend my grandmother's funeral - which turned out to be a huge celebration. It seemed as if the whole town was awake and present for her ceremony. I remember running happily amongst the crowd, a smile plastered on my face. I had no idea what was going on, but people were dressed in bright colors. It was almost like a parade. There was a band, and i remember walking with hundreds of people until we reached the cemetary. The tomb stones were huge: i felt like I was trapped in a huge playground. (I didn't know my grandmother. I had met her when I was a baby, but she never touched my life like she touched my mother's).

That was a happy time for me. I remember feeling sad that there were tears streaming down my mom's face, but my father separated me and my siblings from her presence on that day. If i was older, i would have never ran around like a child. But I WAS a child. And i could not comprehend what it meant to die.

My friend's funeral is in one week. There will be a viewing. I'm fucking terrified to go up to his body. It's not him. It's not the real Dwayne. The real Dwayne would hop out of the casket, a blunt in his mouth, and he would see all the people that loved him and he would say, "Wow. Y'all really do fucking love me." And then the whole thing would turn into a rager.

Sadly, that's just a fantasy I keep playing in my head. I don't know why I mentally cannot grasp the fact that he is gone. Really, REALLY gone. GONE gone. He is not coming back, not in his body. And Dwayne, he loved the body he was given - he was always so handsome, so tall, so dark, so, so , so everything. And his mind - it was vast and he was always questioning everything. He told me we were "cut from a similar cloth" and I believe that. His mind is how he reeled me in, back in 2013. I developed this huge fucking crush on him, and he even drove a total of 5 hours to see me for one day. I can't say that it was magic, and I think we both realized we were better off as friends.

There were bad times. There were times where I did not like him. There were times where he insulted me and ruined everything. There were times where I felt very uncomfortable around him, because he had soiled our friendship. And i remember, almost 2 years ago - he asked me to "come outside." He pulled me aside and he apologized for everything. I was shocked that he didn't choose to ignore me. I forgave him, and I truly did forgive him. We were cut from a similar cloth and I wanted him in my life

Could we have gotten closer? Yes. Was I scared? Yes. Was I stuck with my own addiction to drugs? Yes. And everytime I felt stuck, where i felt alone - I would talk to Dwayne. Since we were cut from a similar cloth, he would not judge me. He would understand. And he always understood, even when I was speaking about heroin (a drug my circle of friends were not familiar with)

I shared with Dwayne nasty details that I could not share with others. He did the same. Our struggles were very similar. I was struggling with staying clean, he was struggling with the mere THOUGHT of being completely sober. The last thing I ever said to him was, "Be careful." I even pleaded with him, as he had shared some disturbing news. But this was Dwayne. And Dwaybe was invincible. He could do anything and take anything and still walk straight. He was almost like a super hero to me. He was the ONE and ONLY person who could outshine me.

I think I feel numb. There are some moments where I realize the gravity of the situation. I realize he is never waking up. I realize his true spirit is gone. The mind that I loved, it was gone. His smile, gone. His voice, gone. His essence, gone. I realize that now. And my eyes are watery but I cannot sob. I think I'm in for a rude awakening, when I am braced with his lifeless-self in a week. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck

To my junkies: have you gone to your friend's funeral? Has this disease ever taken away somebody very special? How did you deal with their death? When did it "hit" you? And if you've been to a funeral, did it provide closure? Or did the event put MORE grief on your shoulders? Also - how the fuck do I comfort my crying friends? I don't know what to say or do.

[blackasteriia]

A Drabble for @deadmenanddemons​

|| because i love jay 

Curls of steam rose from the surface of the hot coffee. The white mug rested on a coaster by Xion's elbow. Stacks of paper and manila envelopes strew across the table, haphazard, but organized. Xion tucked her leg under her and tapped her toes against the crossbeam of the chair. Her free hand threaded in her hair. She wrote out the accounts with a mechanical pencil. In her head, she subtracted and added sums to running numbers. She chewed on the eraser and adjusted some of the costs. Xion finished the budget proposal without a flourish. She pushed it aside and moved onto the next stack. 

Thoughts wormed between the lines on the paper. Xion reflected on the day: busy, hectic, exhausting. The visitation that morning was a disaster. The deceased's mother was furious, grieving. Looking for a place to put her frustrations. Xion was an easy target. She screamed at Xion for twenty minutes then broke down sobbing in the middle of the wake. Xion led the woman into the kitchen and prepared her coffee to drink while she cried. Out of sight of her judging family. It was the first lesson Xion had learned: don't argue with the mourning. 

The woman babbled nonsense and her insults misplaced. It left Xion raw though. Like she'd been sand blasted. The words didn't hit but the weight of emotion broke Xion's back. The mother had shrugged off her burden and laid it on Xion's shoulders. Xion drew comfort from the coffee, the warmth, the terrible taste. She hadn't been ready for this job. Xion could admit that now two months later. Since she'd checked out three books on accounting from the library. She was too young in mind and face. She was sick of explaining, 'yes, I am the funeral director here,' and reassuring people she could burry their loved one. Because she could do the job, now. After a learning curve as steep as Mt. Everest. 

The numbers blurred before her eyes. The second lesson: go to bed on time, and it was past eleven. Xion gathered the papers and pushed them into their corresponding folders. The third lesson: keep things organized. Each family had its own folder, tucked away in a stuffed filing cabinet. Everything was inside: the identity of the deceased, the arrangements, the burial place. Xion carried the stack to the front desk and filed them away. She returned to the kitchen and drank the last of her coffee. She washed the mug in the sink, dried it, and put it back on the shelf.  

Xion braced her hands on the kitchen counter. Her head bowed to her chest. Her hair was longer now, grown to her shoulders-- uncut for months. She looked to her left. Halphas laid on the living room rug. His head rested on his paws. Xion glanced at him and he rolled onto his back. His warm, brown eyes invited her for belly rubs. Her focus broke from him as her hand fell to her phone, where it charged by the sink. Xion composed a text for Aeleus and sent it off. She went to satiate Halphas. His tail smacked against the floor as Xion rubbed his belly and scratched his sides. Strategic wiggles encouraged Xion to find the best spots. Her phone buzzed, the air conditioning clicked off, Halphas barked.  

He flipped onto his stomach, head lifted. Dog and girl froze. Xion's hand rested between his shoulders, caught in a kneel. Two sets of eyes stared at the back wall of the living room, North. Xion rose to her feet. Halphas' collar jingled as he scrabbled upright. He leaned against her leg, tail brushing the back of her thighs. A wet nose pushed into Xion's hand, snuffled against her palm. Xion patted his head and scratched him behind the ears. Absent-minded and focus elsewhere.  

“Something's coming,” she muttered. She looked down at Halphas, “you stay here.”

Halphas never listened to her like he listened to 'Taker, so the dog followed her. His nose was in her face as she laced her boots in the mudroom. Xion stepped out the back porch door and Halphas jumped out after her. Xion caught him by the collar and hauled him back into the house. He whined behind the door as she clambered down the porch steps. She continued on, ignoring his barks. Through the backyard and then a short leap across the stream. She broke into the thicket of trees and arrived at the foot of the cemetery gate. Xion unlocked it and entered the yard.

No raven cry, no brush of wind, and no voices-- complete silence. As if the entire graveyard, all the dead and dearly departed, waited with bated breath. The air tasted of stagnant, dry and warm air, a break in the winter cold. Tonight the dead were rapt and impatient. Magic ran deep in the soil and it spoke of old stories the tellers were too rotted to utter. It was in the ground and it was opportunistic.  

Except, this was a graveyard, and there were a lot of things buried out here. So, the dead would be no help. She ventured into the yard. Xion's boots echoed on the cobblestone of the central pathway. Her heel trod the grass into soft mats. She came to the light post in the heart of the yard. A cast-iron lamp lit with a small flame. A warm glow bathed the surrounding clearing, the sole watch of the night. It was too bad Jake Reid was two weeks gone. He was the most coherent ghost here. The timing didn't feel like an accident. While the winter was thickest and the old guardian gone-- strike quick.

Xion stepped from the stone round and continued North. The shadows slinked, the air chilled and the eyes watching her grew wary. Hungry but observing, predatory yet measuring, gazes burrowed into her skin. She came to a stop at the edge of the tree line. New growth vanished, leaving the petrified trunks of ancient oaks. A clearing spread before her and this was the source of the trouble. What had everyone in a tizzy. The grass was dead. A wide circle spanning a diameter of ten feet, filled by dead, dried, and decaying vegetation. Xion leaned forward, straining for a closer look without breaching the boundary.  

The ground sunk. Dirt began to fall into the center. A pit formed and expanded. Xion stumbled back as the circumference grew. The hole sank ten feet deep. Rock and sand tumbled down into the depth, turning in on itself. Then down in the bottom glinted something. Xion peered at it, squinting, trying to make out detail. It was a crystal. A pure chunk of quartz the size of a quarter. The ground settled and she inched towards the hole.

Then the entire Earth moved a tectonic shift that broke Xion's balance. She wobbled, feet crossing under her to find firm footing. She grunted, and then the ground stilled. Down in the hole, the rock began to tremble. Stone, dirt, sand, conglomerated, bunching around the crystal. A rib cage of dust bone guarded a heart of crystal. Arms, legs, claws of iron, pulled from deep in the crust. Long fingers ripped into the soft sides of the hole, scrabbling, struggling-up. It rose free, hands tearing into the grass at the edges. A face formed and Xion matched gaze with the furious red eyes of a snarling expression wrought in stone.  

She shuffled back as the golem dragged itself out of the pit. It stood ten feet tall. Towered over her. Muscles carved in a malleable rock that breathed with each heaving rasp it took. It regarded her. Then it opened its mouth. A gargled sound erupted, a low growl, like grating, grovel, nails on the chalkboard, steel scream. Syllables began to form, indistinct at first.  

“.... I've waited,” it told her, “My greatest moment has come and the sole witness is a little girl.” 

“Sorry, the welcoming party's so sparse,” Xion apologized. She put her hands on her hips. “I can go get my dog and dad, and we can give you a proper greeting? If you'd like?”

“Tell me, child,” the golem growled. It crouched, coming level with her gaze. It lingered, face inches from hers. Heat burned from its face, “Where is the keeper of this cemetary? Who holds the keys to its locks?”

“I do,” Xion answered. “I'm the caretaker of this graveyard now since my daddy died. I'm Xion, it's nice to meet you.  

The golem paused, and for a second, its head tilted a small angle to the side. Then the corners of its mouth upturned into what could be a smile. “Youth does not beget wisdom, but it would be wise for you to give me that key, child.”

“Well, I don't know who you are,” Xion said. “I won't be giving you anything until you introduce yourself.”

“Do not your legends speak of me?” The golem demanded. “Have your kind forgotten the songs of your people? Are you so complacent that you would forget my name?”

“Well, I'm sure it ain't personal,” Xion said with a shrug. “Tell me then.”

“I am the inferno, the storm,” it declared. “I am Malchemus;  I have come by the beckoning of my master for the intention of destruction. Child, I will spare you for the price of the keys which you hold. Give them to me and I will not reap them from your corpse.”

Xion looked into the red of its eyes. The golem rolled with rage, seething, burning; It was not from here. Another place over, the realm that 'Taker spoke of. She lifted her chin, “No.”

Stone grated and a massive arm swept through the air. The golem's fist struck her across the chest and tossed Xion. The air left her and she crashed into the ground several meters away. Gaze blackened, spots dotted her eyes, and she heaved a labored gasp. Her head rung like a chimed bell and her mind churned through a half-dozen, useless, thoughts. Malchemus lurched after her. It walked in a slow gait, the Earth trembling with each of its steps.  

“I have seen ten thousand years,” Malchemus said. Xion pushed onto her elbows and flipped onto her back. Sweat struck her forehead as it approached.   It dipped its hand into the dirt between strides. Iron ore smelted in its grip to form handle and blade of a sword. It was a rough forge, edges chipped but blunt to rend flesh. Malchemus lifted his foot and implanted it on Xion's chest. The full weight of the golem leaned into her sternum. It forced crushing pressure on her. Malchemus lodged the sword point beneath her throat.  

“And I have never seen a human survive a blow such as that,” It observed. “I shall remember you, for surely there have been few so fearless as to refuse me. Goodbye, child.”

It plunged the blade forward. Xion rolled tossing the foot off her and dipping between its legs to emerge on its rear flank. The lumbering stone golem began to twist to catch her in a horizontal swing. Xion lifted her foot and kicked into its back thigh, breaking its balance. She planted her falling foot, pivoted her hips, and put her fist through the back of the golem. Rock ricocheted off, smashed through by the power of the strike. Malchemus chuckled and rock filled the hole she made. It finished its swing.  

The blade cut through Xion's collarbones, nicking her as she stumbled back.  The jagged edge ripped through the skin along her clavicle. Blood stained the front of her shirt. Xion jumped back in time to avoid a downward strike that shattered the Earth.  Xion ducked the next swing. She put her palm through the knee of the golem, sent it crashing to the ground. Xion drove her heel into its rib cage, dislodging more rock.  

The Earth trembled again. A pillar of stone rose and smashed into her. The entire ground shook, broke, unsteady footing. Malchemus stood again. The spells of her aqua and aero rebuffed off its armor. Xion backed as it lurched forward. She saw the range now. A wingspan her height doubled by a sword. The golem was deceptive in its speed and power. Rushing in was a good way to eat something. She eyed the blade, impromptu but hardened. Xion nodded to herself, shifted on her toes. Then, she turned and ran.  

She sprinted through the trees. Full speed, legs pounding to propel herself forward. The ground broke beneath her, rough stone, daggers of iron, and the lash of the wind through her hair. The attacks cut at her clothes, skin, and hair, left bruises for later. Down the pathways, through the plots, she leaped over tombstones and graves. Malchemus surged after her, she heard him follow. On her heels as Xion ducked and weaved grasping hands. She broke from the graves to the tomb and mausoleums towards the front of the yard.  

Xion ran for an old tomb, its face worn off by time. She ducked behind it as Malchemus swung. His blade smashed into the stone and it yanked it out, growling at his near-miss. Xion rolled around to the side and Malchemus followed her. She cowered, pinned against the rock. Malchemus lunged and stabbed for her throat, to sever her head, end her quick. Xion ducked at the last second and the blade pierced the old tomb. The uneven edges caught on the stone, and the blade was stuck. 

Xion pivoted and planted her foot. She put her into weight into the next strike. She put her fist through the middle of the blade. It shattered, fracturing to the hilt. Malchemus' balance broke and she capitalized. Without fear of counter-strike, she was able to dart in close. Ice magic formed in the palm of Xion's hand. She shoved it into the body of the golem and burst it. The ice fractured the rock and the body exploded. Rocks shot off, scattered across the grass and the cobblestone pathways. The center crystal, attached to a small stone, flew off into the grass. Xion exhaled, catching her breath.  

She straightened and walked towards the crystal. She was cautious. Xion could sense magic rolling deep in the crystal's heart, nowhere near stilled. The stone it connected to trembled, began to pull on the soft dirt to rebuild itself. Xion surged forward, diving to scoop it up. Flames licked and lashed out, a sudden spark of heat. Burned her hands and she jerked back from the pain. 

Malchemus reformed, made anew into flame and molten stone. Clouds gathered, black and bearing overhead. A shift in the pressure, a building of static and humidity. Wind picked-up, pulled at her hair; A screaming, wailing; buffeting Xion and the yard. Magic formed water in her hands and she blasted Malchemus across the side. The fire flickered, an arm went out; Then it took the element and reformed the limb. Its laughter haunted her as she backed away, edging towards the gate.  

“So full of surprises,” Malchemus chuckled. It looked down at his hand of water, swirling and eddying into the fine ligaments of muscle and tendon. “I know well the clan that claims this valley. For we have fought many times-- and you may be powerful child, but you are no Valdis.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Xion spat.  

The gate was a long sprint behind her. In theory, Xion could open and close it without Malchemus following her. back with Aeleus for help. The storm grew-- the power evident in the shift of the very climate. If it got out there was no guarantee Xion could put it back in. Some risks weren't worth their benefit.  

“A dozen times I have risen,” Malchemus explained. It strode forward, breaking apart the feeble distance between them. Xion stumbled back,  “And each time the guardian of this place has rebuffed me. I have waited centuries for a chance such as this. The master of the house is out-- and he has left a child in his stead. One not even of his own blood.”

“The Undertaker is my father,” Xion snapped. She held her ground, heel planting. “I do what I can now that he's gone.”

“It won't be enough,” Malchemus warned.  

The clouds opened and a deluge fell. Pounding rain that soaked through Xion's coat and clothes. Malchemus backhanded Xion, tossing her aside. She struck the side of a tomb. The impact jarred the air out of her and rattled her skull. Xion collapsed at the base of the tomb. She gasped through broken ribs and pained breath. Xion's vision blackened. A hand of water reached for her. Gripped her around the throat. Water surged up, covered Xion's mouth and face. Short on air she choked, and spluttered, lungs strained, burned. She could not grip what drowned her, her hand passed through the arm without break. 

Malchemus hooked its hand around her shoulder. It lifted her by the arm, crushing the muscle and bone in a bruising grip. The hot stone burned through her coat. Pain, a raw agony that had Xion kicking and squirming to escape it. Out of air, her vision faded. Instinct ignited the depths of Xion's power. Light, bright and golden, erupted in pillars. The magic ripped through Malchemus, scattering rock and the water him. Xion collapsed to the ground as it crumbled.  

Braced against her arms and fallen to her knees, Xion heaved for breath. Pain splintered through her back and arms. Her fingers probed the tender, split skin. A quick cure soothed the burn, took the edge off, returned the mobility of her arm. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Xion looked-up to see the crystal swept away by a current. Water gathered, hardened into ice; Cold and sharp. Xion surged to her feet. Fire swept from her hand, sizzling and evaporating the rain. Before Malchemus formed again she buried her hands into its chest. The ice melted, evaporated, she aimed to crush the crystal.  

Thunder call, rolling deep; Shaking the land. Spears of ice lanced through Xion's shoulders pinned her to the ground. Sharp as daggers they pierced her skin, impaled muscle. Flash of light, searing pain. Malchemus called down lightning. White-hot heat spread through Xion's entire body. Muscles locked in a full-body ache in the wake of the static. Bleeding, burning, and aching, Xion sprawled on the ground. Her cheek pressed to her shoulder. Too in pain to even groan. A tremble of the ground and in a couple strides Malchemus stood by her. It loomed over her, red eyes glowing through a flurry of flame. Xion choked and spat-up water. Her heart pounded in stutter step.  

“You are not quite human, are you?” It observed. It looked down at her, head tilted to the side. “You are a curiosity. Pray to your god now, child, make your peace and prepare your last words. Provided you can speak them. I do hope you fall to hell. It would please me to dissect a creature such as you.”

It spent too long talking. Time was of the essence and Xion was in surplus. She cast haste between the syllables of 'curi-o-sity.' Xion was not human. Magic coursed her veins and built her bones. The muscles and nerves of her body were hers to command. She began at her fingertips, forcing the seized ligaments to unlock. She watched each word form on the heated lips of Malchemus. Xion clenched her fist, her nails bit into the palm of her hand. She loosed the static, healed damage nerves with rushed spells. All the way down to her shoulder. it lifted his foot to crush her skull. Time snapped-back into play and Xion's hand lifted. The blast of light shattered the leg. 

Tendon by tendon, Xion's body released. A full curaga, green and gold, the scent of lily blossoms, and spring wind, cut the air into sweet scents. Healed her wounds, supported broken bones, and refreshed her mind. Xion swung her leg beneath her, rising-up into a kneel. She seethed, fingers pressed into the dirt. Caught her breath. She did not have enough magic left. Xion was powerful, her reserves ran deep-- but Malchemus outpaced her. Force-to-force, she could not match him. One step forward and two backward.  

Anger rolled in her. 'Taker could handle this just fine. She could never match his pure talent. Oh, she could hear the scolding, trying to handle this on her own. Go get Aeleus. Back off, no shame in walking away. Except Malchemus would be left in the yard to wreak havoc. The storm had not let-up. Record rainfall for the valley. 'Taker may have some words for her for doing something as stupid as this. 'Taker wasn't here though. And that left Xion to problem solve.  

Xion stood one more time. She balanced on her toes, staying light. Xion steadied her breathing. Her hands opened. Malchemus reformed, this time of a variety of material: stone, water, fire, iron, even the wind. Her eyes focused on its chest, watching the shift of its balance. Well guarded by a construct of iron. Metal that shone in the dark. A hard shell, still only iron. Xion looked past physical, past the elements that made Malchemus. To the magic that bound it together. It was a powerful Elemental, and so was she. She began to grin. “Okay,” she breathed. “Let's do this.”

The rain hardened into icicles, piercing lances. Xion knocked them from the air with flicks of her wrists. She was quick, never committing, but remaining light. Xion ducked and weaved strikes, lashes of fire and stones. She darted into Malchemus'. Fire on her fingers, not hot enough to melt, but when she drove them into a key point the iron yielded. The impurities, the imperfections of the ore bending to the strike. Malchemus retaliated, a massive arm of rock missed her clean. Xion bounded out of the teleport several feet away.  

She began to gather the rain.  Twists of her arm pulled the droplets from the air around them. She drew on the saturated Earth, a torrent a dozen feet deep. The water circled them, trapping them together.  Malchemus pointed at her, the static in the air built. The coming lightning strike. Xion pivoted on her heel. A hook kick broke the wall and water blasted Malchemus. Thousands of pounds of pressure distilled to a few inches. The iron bent, rusted, stone scattered. It abandoned one form for another. The iron fell to the ground and it took the malleable water.  

Xion's hand lifted for the sky, poised and waiting. A beat of her pulse and the lightning snapped, drawn to her veins. She caught it. The electricity coursed through her arms. She guided it through her, past her internal organs along highways of magic. Xion grounded through her rear leg. The arc formed from fingertip-to-finger. Xion pointed at Malchemus and the lightning escaped her. Bright flash and thunder crack. Lightning struck the heart of Malchemus' body and it erupted into steam. 

Xion swiped her hand and all the water froze. The rain stopped like a switch flipped. In gentle flakes, snow fluttered to the ground to melt in the ankle-deep pools of rainwater. Xion's hand lifted above her. The crystal dropped into her waiting palm and she curled her fist around it. Xion looked down at the crystal in her hand. A slight warmth emitted from it. She hummed, turning it over. Malchemus could manipulate the air but it wasn't solid enough to support his form. Furthermore, it could only manipulate elements it was in contact with. So long as Xion didn't drop the crystal on the ground or in water, it was helpless. It provided some interesting theoretical possibilities.  

A little magic pulled from her core was enough. Xion held out the stone. The projection was ephemeral, the form of Malchemus pulled from her power. It stood shorter, no more than six feet, pale and thin as smoke. Red eyes burning as two little dots. It regarded her in silent contemplation.

“Clever girl,” It praised. “You have outmaneuvered me so thoroughly-- Tell me how you did it.”

“Hydrolysis,” Xion answered. “An electric current through water separates the hydrogen and oxygen atoms. Two elements that you can't manipulate. You gave me the lightning. All I had to do was move it around a little. You know, chemistry has come along way since the dark ages. Maybe you should pick-up a textbook while you're here.”

“Do you intend me to visit your library?” It asked, incredulous.  

“Yeah,” Xion said with a nod. She shrugged her shoulders, “So long as you promise to be good. All you had to do to get out was ask.”

“So it seems,” Malchemus breathed. “What is this, that you have made me of?”

“Pure magic,” Xion answered. “A little of the same stuff I'm made of. I built myself around human flesh, bone, and blood; You chose the elements. We're not so different, you and I. You don't have to go back to who sent you. Stay here, start a new life.”

“Truly,” Malchemus said, “you are a child.”

“Maybe so,” Xion agreed. “That doesn't mean I don't understand.”

Malchemus did not respond. It stared at her, eyes narrowed in silent scrutiny. Xion matched his gaze, unwavering. The crimson softened, rolling into sunrise golds, cooling under the wind. Xion offered it a slight smile. A sensation rose from the base of her spine. A feeling of movement, a shift in magic. Xion ducked and the stone whizzed past her head. It broke through the projection of Malchemus and clattered a dozen feet away. Malchemus lunged for her, taking the magic she gave and turning it on her. Its hand extended for her.  

Steel pierced its chest. Malchemus froze, mouth gaped in a wordless gasp. Her keyblade sunk into its chest. Burning light caught on the metaphysical organ. Hair fell over Xion's eyes. Her face stained with blood and sweet. The crystal fell to the ground at her feet.  

“Oh, wow,” Xion whispered, “you do have a heart.”

Xion sunk the blade deeper, impaling Malchemus through. Piercing the fragile, emotive heart in his unreal chest. All things have hearts, so long as they are sentient and uncorrupted. Even demons. Xion would have to write that down later. It's such an interesting note.

“You were right,” Xion told him. Keyblade split him but no blood spilled, no organ cut. “I'm not a Valdis. I can never be like my father. No matter how much I want to make-up for my mistakes I can't do it, but--” she licked her lips-- “I am still the guardian of this world.”

Xion twisted the keyblade, rent deeper into the heart. She flashed her teeth in vicious smile, eyes dark. The light claimed her now but that was not where Xion was born. Nothing made her, the darkness was her home. Xion was not sweet and kindness was her choice. Mercy was not in her nature. Xion has been the edge of the universe and spoken to the abyss. Malchemus' worldview was limited.  

“I want you to go back to your master,” Xion snarled, “And tell him that the yard is under new management. I'm not half as nice as the Undertaker never was. He'd just kill you. I would leave you in pieces.”

Xion ripped out the keyblade, freeing Malchemus. Her foot stamped down onto the crystal where it laid on the ground. His projection retreated into the crystal. “There are some things you don't understand. The world is a lot bigger than the rock you crawled out from under-- when you're ready to see that, I'll be waiting.  

The crystal sunk into the dirt, returning to the pit it once came from. Xion watched it go, the wind pulling at her hair. The fountain burbled, the ravens cried, and the dead sighed in collective relief. Xion put her hands on her hips. Her shoulders sagged and she sighed in pure exhaustion. The yard was a wreck: torn-up grass, flooding, broken tombstones. Calculating the cost of damage terrified her. A few infuriated shouts of furious ghosts joined the chorus of pleased whispers. Her groan was long and loud. Tomorrow, a problem for tomorrow.

There was no escaping the pain. Every muscle in Xion's body hurt. She dragged herself out of the yard, stumbling through each step. She locked the gate behind her as she passed through it. The bay of a dog caught her attention. Xion turned in time for Halphas to jump on her. He pawed at her legs and waist, sniffing her.  

“How did you get out?” Xion demanded.

 She looked-up through the trees to the house. The back door swung open but she could feel Aeleus still at home, a half-mile away. Halphas barked and wiggled, and otherwise behaved like a dog. No answers there, it didn't matter. Xion returned to the funeral home. Xion slinked through the back door with Halphas on her heels. Xion shed her ruined coat and clothes, changed into a sleep shirt. She was more than eager to pass out on the couch with the dog.  

[bondsmagii]

i have, on numerous occasions, smoked weed in a cemetary late at night. one time it was pouring nonstop and my friend and i were drenched, the wind was howling, but nothing could deter us. nothing.

I’m just picturing you both soaking wet, howling wind, hurricane conditions… huddled with a tiny, tiny umbrella over ur blunt

[wikifoxnews]

Who was Ranjith Kankanamalage ( Victim of 'horrific' hate murder ) Wiki, Bio, Age, Crime, Incident details, Investigations and More Facts

Ranjith Kankanamalage Biography                                                        Ranjith Kankanamalage Wiki

The victim of a "terrible" homophobic murder was named when investigators called for help in catching her killer.

Ranjith Kankanamalage, 50, was found in a cemetery in London's East End with a "blunt trauma" head injury. His body was discovered in Tower Hamlets Cemetery on the morning of August 16. NEW Identity of man killed in suspected homophobic attack in East London cemetary released. Ranjith ‘Roy’ Kankanamalage, 50, was found with a fatal head injury last Fri. LGBT+ charities now working with police pic.twitter.com/jolyGOrD0a — Julian Druker (@Julian5News) August 27, 2021 Local residents said the cemetery is known as a "cruise spot" for gay men, but gangs of young people also gathered there during the closure. Police said the victim, also known as "Roy", lived in the area for several years. His family is supported by specialized agents. The murder is treated as a homophobic hate crime, although investigators say they "stay open" as the investigation proceeds. Detective Superintendent Marcus Barnett, commander of the Hackney and Tower Hamlets police, said, “This is a gruesome murder and my thoughts are with Ranjith's family and loved ones. Fortunately, although incidents like this are still very rare in London, I would like to assure this community that my agents and investigators are working tirelessly to bring those responsible to justice. “I would also like to clarify that there is absolutely no place in London for any form of hate crime and the Met is absolutely committed to addressing it and supporting the victims. We are here for you. ' He added: “A key part of our work, and especially during this survey, is community support and participation and I am truly grateful for the support we have received from LGBTQ + organizations during this time, my teams keep the community up to date. . . “This is a live investigation and I encourage the community to work with us and tell us what they know about Ranjith and what happened to him. “The smallest piece of information could be crucial to the investigation. “You can contact Crimestoppers anonymously or speak to the above charities. But above all, when you know something, you call. Detective Superintendent Pete Wallis of the Met's Special Crimes Command said, “My agents work with local colleagues 24 hours a day, leveraging the Met's resources. “We will stop at nothing to do justice to Ranjith's family, devastated by this terrible accident. “I need someone with information to contact us immediately. Have you seen anyone in or around the park acting suspiciously? It is imperative that you tell us what you know. "Ranjith's family is devastated and his information could help us live up to it." Derek Lee, LGBT + Advisory Group, said, “We are a volunteer group of independent consultants who are working closely with the local police, city council and homicide department on this issue. “We are making sure that LGBT + issues are addressed in the investigation of this tragic death, as well as in the broader police response to security in Tower Hamlets and throughout London. “If you have information, contact the police, Crimestoppers or the LGBT + Galop charity. "The investigation team knows they are only interested in information relevant to the case and that their privacy is respected." A 36-year-old man detained in connection with the investigation was released on bail. Read the full article

[howardent]

Hey, I'm going up to New York and was wondering if there was any Historical museums/places that you would recommend?

-all of wall street/ the hamilton grange in harlem / the schuyler mansion if you’re into hamilton

-the transit museum if you’re into old train cars / busses

-central synagogue & trinity church / st pauls chapel if you’re into churches, also st patricks cathedral & green wood cemetary

-the conference house if you wanna see where john adams and benjamin franklin probably smoked a blunt together lmao

-governers island

-morris-jumel mansion if you’re into amrev history

-the apollo theatre

-the cloisters

[mr-spac3ly]

smoke weed tew dis...