#do NOT clock my shitty light setup

[binchslapped]

I was doing a TJ Maxx haul Dress To Impress style montage in my room and thought this was kinda cute in a “im looking to the side” kind of way <3

[callofdiva]

rain check - t.h.

I guess I’m doing some writing over break?? a miracle!!

—

Bing!

It’s the incoming text that sends your heart rate up, straight up, the message popping down from the top of the screen. It’s from

❤️Tommy❤️

You groan, your fist instinctively rising in an effort to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, but instead, just smearing the tracked mascara a little more.

Of course he’s going to play this game again, it’s just typical Tom.

You hit the square before it retreats back into the list of notifications, flooded by snaps from concerned friends that have collected in the last two hours.

Hey hon I’m sorry

I’m with haz and my phone wasnt giving me notifications

Are you ok

?

Bullshit. Complete bullshit.

You’re not even sad anymore, just pissed. But not at him. You can’t be. You’re just mad at yourself for falling for this again. Because you’re never going to be able to stay mad at him, as proved time and time again.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but you don’t answer. The wave of sadness hits again, tears refilling your eyes as you survey the screen. It’s completely overtaken by the blue-backed messages you’ve been sending since 7:30.

hey tommy? you on your way?

and then,

just let me know when you think youll be here :)

and an hour later,

babyyyy you okay?

and finally, most recently, a petty and short

goodnight

singularly because Snapchat betrayed him to be “seen just now” at a local pub. And while you weren’t exactly proud to admit it, you’d been checking his location periodically, though it was partially to make sure that he was safe.

It’s 12:38 now, as a glance at the top of the screen confirms, and the typing bubble pulses on the screen briefly before-

Is that a no?

And again--

I fucked up

Im sorry

He wasn’t wrong. After all, he is the one who stood you up. Or could you even call it that?

Regardless, he was supposed to come round yours for a night in, though clearly it hadn’t worked out that way. This is only illustrated by the fact that you’re now in the fetal position in the dark on the sofa, surrounded by too many throw pillows and a stack of movies, favorites of Tom’s and of your own.

They’re all dumb now. You shouldn’t have wasted your time or energy on popping the popcorn and going out to find Tom’s favorite sweets, you think. It’s a mix of anger and hopelessness that fills the corners of your mind now, and it occurs to you that you haven’t texted him back yet.

I fucked up

Im sorry

You read it over, not thinking twice before you hit send.

sometimes it feels like i’m the only one who cares around here

g’night.

There’s not even a second of hesitation before he’s typing again.

Im sorry

You click your phone off, well aware that the read receipt has already been sent.

Good, you think, let him feel shitty about it. It’s his turn anyways.

And then you’re silencing your phone, and shoving it in the pocket of your sweatpants, and you’re getting up from the couch. And more tears are coming, because now you feel awful, but he made you feel awfuller, so maybe he deserves it.

He does, you decide. Screw him.

The sad, empty, pittish feeling in your stomach makes you want to go straight to bed and maybe lay there for a few hours on your phone reading the texts again, but you make it shut up and instead stop in the bathroom.

Ugly is the only word that comes to mind when you look in the mirror. You grab a makeup wipe from the package in the drawer and scrub at your raccoony eyes until the mascara bits are gone, leaving you looking just tired and sad.

Fitting. Because I am.

You click the lights off and walk out, not even bothering to turn on the bedroom light before flopping into bed. Your phone is still in your pocket, but you’re tired of crying, so there’s no point in looking at it again. Despite how exhausted you are, though, you can’t sleep. So you lay there, on your side, looking at the wall.

You don’t know how many minutes pass, maybe even hours, before you’re pulled out of whatever hole you’re in by the sound of your front door closing. You pull the comforter higher up, knowing exactly what’s about to happen, knowing that Tom’s going to walk in and apologize and that you’re going to forgive him because how can you not?

You can’t hear his footsteps as he moves down the hall, but he taps on the door, snapping you out of your own mind.

“Honey.. Can I come in?”

You don’t answer. You don’t know if you even can.

There’s a pause, and there’s silence for a few seconds, or a few minutes. You don’t know which it is. You’re wondering if he’s gone, if he gave up, though you didn’t hear the front door close again. And then the silence fades back in, and you just lay there waiting.

It at least feels like a few minutes have passed, so you roll over to look at the clock.

1:33.

Then 1:34.

1:35.

You pull out your phone, figuring that he could’ve texted. Immediately, you wince at the brightness, letting your eyes adjust before you click onto your messages.

And sure enough, the most recent one--almost a half hour ago-- reads

If you don’t want to talk to me, I understand. I’m in the lounge if you do, though. I love you, and I’m sorry.

Suck it up, Y/N. You sit up, pocketing the phone again and hesitantly climbing out from the comforter. Your door squeaks when you open it, and you know that he’d have to be deaf to miss it. Now you have to do it, no wimping out.

Emerging from the room, you immediately see the top of his head resting on the arm of the sofa, his hair unruly.

Why does he have to be cute?

He rolls over to face you as you stand at the end of the hallway, sitting up when he registers that it’s you.

“I thought you were asleep..” He pulls himself off the couch and to his feet, stopping you in your tracks.

You nod. There’s no tension between you; just awkwardness, thick and obvious.

“I’m sorry… I forgot I was supposed to be here..” He trails off, gesturing weakly to the setup around him. “Haz invited me out for drinks.. And I was serious-- your texts weren’t coming through before I was driving home.”

You shrug. You know he’s telling you the truth, but you don’t want to admit that you were so upset over something dumb like this.

“I’m sorry, babe. I am..”

You stare at his socked feet, unable to look at him, stupidly stubborn.

“What’s going on?.. What’re ya thinkin’?”

“I dunno,” you mumble, finally mustering up the words to actually respond. “‘M tired.”

“Oh.” He’s caught off guard by that, not expecting to be shut down like that. Or maybe he was expecting it, just… hoping that you’d want to sort through it now. “Sorry. I’ll go.. I’ll let ya sleep.”

He fiddles with his fingers, with the ring on the fourth finger of his right hand. He fiddles with the cuffs of his jacket, rolling the fabric between his thumb and second finger. He fiddles with his fingernails, the cuticles already bitten down--

“Don’t.” It comes out of your mouth before you can stop it, loud and clear. Fuck.

“Huh?” He looks up, and unexpectedly, you do too, meeting his eyes before you realize that this is bad news.

It’s your turn to start fiddling now, with your own hands, your hair--

“I’m not… mad at you, Tom.”

He looks surprised. “You’re not?”

You shake your head.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I did fuck up.. and that I’m sorry.” He’s intent on giving you an apology.

You don’t need one though, you don’t want him to feel bad anymore…

“Is it okay if I hug you?” The question comes from your mouth even though you can’t recall conjuring the words up. He looks taken aback this time, caught off-guard again, and it takes a moment for him to process it because he was about to launch into a whole apology speech.

“Of course hon.. you don't have to ask, you know.”

And then you’re wrapped in him, and his body is warm and he smells nice and not like alcohol, like you’d sort of expected. And he’s mumbling sorry’s into your shoulder like there’s no tomorrow, but you shush him, squeezing his waist.

“Rain check?”

—

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[the--blackdahlia]

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 31 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 31

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings:  Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

Dr. Feelgood Tour

New York City

“I love New York!” Vince called out. “Nothing is like ever closed! I can get burgers at any hour!”

“Do they have In-and-Out Burger? No. So it sucks.” Mick grumbled.

Nikki sighed as he placed his hands in his pockets breathing in the air, “Yeah, lets just grab some food and head to the hotel or something.”

“Everything seems dull here.” Tommy grumbled as they made their way into a diner, getting a table in the back. They were making small talk when they heard a voice up at the counter.

“Pick up order for (Y/n) Bass.” She said softly. Nikki’s head shot up. He looked to the voice and his heat stopped. She still looked as beautiful as the first day he met her back at their gig. Nikki was going to get up and walk to her when a group of girls flooded the table. (Y/n) heard the commotion. She made eye contact with Tommy, but saw a girl sitting at Nikki’s side and sighed. She made her way out with her food in hand.

“Let me out.” Tommy said, but the girls just wouldn’t budge.

“Look girls, you guys are great but we gotta…” Nikki was trying to get up and felt himself get pulled down.

“I could show you why New York is the city that never sleeps.” A girl whispered in his ear. Nikki looked out the window. He could see (Y/n) walking down the sidewalk.

NIkki sighed and frowned, he missed his chance and shook his head. “That sounds fun, but I’m good.” Tommy got out of the group and raced outside, seeing (Y/n).

“(Y/n)!” he called and ran towards her. “(Y/n) wait!”

“Hey Tommy.” She said, but the usual charm in her voice was gone. So was the light in her eyes. “I forgot it’s tour time, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, we’re staying at the Waldorf, you should come by,” he smiled at her and hugged her. “I missed you, herard from Vanessa you moved out here. Don’t have your number.”

“Oh, sorry.” She pulled a small notebook out of her purse and wrote her number down. “I don’t think it’d be good for me to go to the Waldorf. Don’t want to make Nikki’s friends in there mad.” She gave him her number. “It was good seeing you T-bone.”

“But (Y/n) he’s…” before he could say anything another group of groupies swarmed him and (Y/n) had disappeared. “(Y/n)!” Tommy called out, but she couldn’t hear him over the noise of the girls.

****

Months Later

“Fuck! You!” Vince yelled at Nikki. “Get off your fucking pedestal You’re no better than the rest of us!”

“What the fuck is your problem! You’re showing up late you’re being sloppy! What the hell?”

“Maybe I’d come in on time if I liked what we were doing!” Vince yelled. “Maybe I wouldn’t be looking at the clock ready to get the fuck out of here!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Nikki looked at him.

“I’m so tired of the same thing over and over again! And every song you write anymore seems to be about her! Face it Nikki! She’s gone and she’s not coming back!” Vince screamed. “You know what, I quit!”

“You’re fired!” Nikki told him, growling.

“I already quit you dick!” Vince walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Nikki looked to Mick and Tommy "what the hell is he talking about? My songs aren't about…" he trailed off. "It's fine, we can find someone else."

“Who?” Tommy asked. “We’ve had Vince since ‘81. Who would want to…” He paused. “I need to make a call. I know someone who could help us out.” Tommy left the studio, leaving Mick and Nikki standing there.

"MCA (Y/n) Bass's office this is Angie dreaming how can I help you?" The girl said on the phone with Tommy.

"Yeah hi, this is Tommy Lee," he hoped that the woman on the other end wouldn’t think that it was a prank or something. "I was wondering if I could speak to (Y/n) please?"

“Just one moment.” She put him on hold, the hold music being the current hit coming out of MCA.

“Tommy, what’s up?” (Y/n) asked.

“We need help finding a singer, Vince and Nikki got into it and Vince quit. Think you can help your brother out with a singer? For old times sake?” Tommy smiled at the sound of her voice.

“I don’t work for Elektra Tommy. I could get in trouble for this.” (Y/n)  told him.

“(Y/n) please! I would owe you big time for this! please , please, please, please, please…” he continued.

“Okay, okay. Quit your begging.” (Y/n) sighed. “There’s this guy. His name is John Corabi. He is apart of this band called The Scream. He’s wanting to leave and he might be the best you can get right now. Just check him out and see what he sounds like.” She took a second. “Why’d Vince leave?”

“I think his wife left him and he’s just hasn’t been feeling the no booze or drugs, all clean Motley Crue vibe going on.” Tommy sighed.

“I’m sorry Tommy.” (Y/n) sighed. “You guys could still be hit makers though. Look at Sammy Hagar and Van Halen.”

“Yeah… hey, when are you going to visit?” Tommy asked as he ran his hand across his face.  

“Probably not for awhile.” (Y/n) said. “I have a lot to do with Petty and I’ve got two new bands I’m trying to help out. Don’t really have time.”

Tommy sighed, “Ok, thanks for the info (Y/n). I owe you big time.” the wheels in his head began turning as he hung up.

“Tommy?” Mick asked. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I got a recommendation for a singer we should check out, John Corabi.” Tommy said as he looked at Mick.

“Shitty name. Probably a shitty singer.” Mick grumbled.

“Yeah,” Tommy chuckled, “You’re probably right. But we can just check him out I guess.”

“Well, let’s go talk to our royal highness and see what he wants to do.” Mick sighed.

“Hey, Mick?” Tommy looked at him.

“What drummer?” Mick asked.

“I want to fix what I messed up,” Tommy sighed. “And I want to get (Y/n) to come back and… you know it and I know it… “Without You” is about (Y/n) and him.” Mick sighed.

“Yeah, it is.” Mick admitted. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Ok, I need to call Athena and Vanessa, maybe we can meet up without Nikki knowing and discuss how to get them together?” Tommy sighed. “Mick, I just wanted to protect my sister. I didn't think I would put the wedge that caused their split.”

“It wasn’t just you drummer. But you didn’t help any.” Mick told him. “Get the girls. Let me know time and place.”

**********

“Thanks for being here girls,” Tommy sighed. “I’m just waiting on Mick.” Tommy looked at Vanessa. “How’s Vince?”

“He’s a mess.” She told him. “I want to help him so bad.”

“I know, but maybe once we get Nikki out of his funk we can get Vince out of his?” Tommy hoped.

“Ok, drummer I’m here, what are we going to do?” Mick sighed as he walked in. “Girls,” he nodded to them.

“We need to get (Y/n) back somehow.” Athena sighed. “I don’t know what to do though.”

“Tell her mom’s sick?” Tommy shrugged. Athena sighed, but nodded. She knew that was the best they were going to get.

“You’re not as dumb as you look drummer.” Mick laughed.

“Tha...HEY!” he smacked Mick’s chest.  “Ok but what do we do about Nik?”  

“We’ll figure it out when she gets here.” Vanessa said. “It’ll be perfect though.”

“Yeah, but she is going to be so pissed at us Tommy?” Athena sighed. “But it’s worth it right? I mean she says she's happy but I know she isn’t.”

“I saw her in New York ‘Thena. She couldn’t even smile at me.” Tommy told her. “I have to fix this somehow. She hasn’t been happy since she was with him. He hasn’t been happy since he was with her.”

“The drugs, and your words didn’t help,” Vanessa sighed. “She was so scared at what you would think and you proved her right Tom,” Vanessa sighed. “You should have been happy for her… but then again… you were also going through your own shit.” Vanessa ran her hand across her face. “Fuck i just want to stick them in a room and tell them to figure it out!”

“Just make sure to throw some condoms in there too. Don’t need anymore bassists in the world.” Mick grumbled.

************

Sipping his coffee, Nikki stared out into his backyard. It wasn’t the same house they had lived in, but the backyard setup wasn’t much different. A dog was barking off to the side, over the fence. Nikki closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he could see her there, playing with the dog Athena had asked them to watch for her while she was travelling to Texas on business.

“Come on Angus!“ (Y/n)’s laughed echoed in his head.

“Sweet girl, what are you doing?” he could remember some of his haze. But she looked beautiful running with a dog. “And who’s dog is that?”

“Silly boy! It’s Athena’s dog,” (Y/n) came up to him as the dog sat by them as she kissed Nikki. “We said we could dog sit since you guys weren’t going to be on tour.”

“Oh, right,” he pretended to remember but he saw her smile and just went with it. “He is a cute dog.”

“He might just never go home, right Angus.” (Y/n) asked him with a bit of baby talk. “Who’s my good boy?” He wagged his tail like crazy. “I wish we weren’t so busy. I’d love to have a dog of our own.”

“I know but… I’m in the studio and touring all the time…” Nikki sighed and caressed her face. “Maybe in the future when things calm down?”

“Sounds like a plan.” She kissed him gently before going back to play with Angus.

NIkki ran his hand across his face at the memory. He traced at his arm and shook his head. Turning to the fruit bowl, he grabbed an apple and took a bite. As long as she was happy with her new life, he would be okay.

****

“This is (Y/n).” (Y/n) sighed as she answer her phone and walked out of the recording studio where her new current train wreck was playing.

“(Y/n)’s it’s Athena.. I’m sorry to bother you at work but.. It’s mom,” her voice cracked.

“What’s wrong?” (Y/n) asked.

“We don’t know,” Athena pretended to take a shaky breath. “Dad said she was feeling fine and then she just collapsed.”

“Is...is she…” (Y/n) couldn’t get the right words to form.

“The doctor is seeing her but she’s stable right now.”

“I...I’m gonna try to get over there okay.” (Y/n) said. “Just try to keep me updated okay?” She was shaking.

“Ok, please hurry,” Athena hung up the phone and looked at Tommy smiling. “Tada!”

“Damn. You’re a good actress. Maybe you should be in the movies or something.” Tommy shrugged.

“It wouldn’t be the type of movies that you watch asshole.” Athena laughed.

“Hey, I go to the movies…” Tommy shifted his eyes.

“Yeah, the movies at the porn store,” Vanessa muttered. “OK so any Idea as to what to tell Nikki?”

“I’m honestly not sure. We can wait until she gets here and say she was in an accident on her way to see mom or something? He comes running because you know he will, and surprise! She’s alive and well! Might as well talk?” Tommy shrugged. “I’ve had dumber ideas.”

Forever Tags:  @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme

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[cherry3point14]

CAN’T GET NO SATISFACTION | CHAPTER 4

DESCRIPTION: You are VP of Sales for a company with stores and major distribution links across the country and your executive assistant, and only real friend, is leaving. A temp is brought in to replace her, on probation, for you try him out. Of course, nobody told you that it was a him, or that his name was Dean Winchester, or that you’d want to try him out.

A/N: This is an office AU basically from this post. Yep, it’s all a setup for that joke.

[Characters: Dean x Reader, OFC, OMC Words: 3,708. Warnings: workplace drama kids, shit hitting the fan, fucking patriarchy]

Ao3 link if you prefer. Series Masterlist

“No. Shit. No.” It was all he heard before he looked up in time to see her head fall into her arms as they rested on the desk. Until this point, he doesn’t think he’s heard her say anything more than ‘heck’ and even that was just one time late after everyone else left. So, for her to be shouting ‘shit’ in the middle of the day, loud enough for him, and he’s sure others, to hear? Well, that’s a problem.

It’s not concern that forces him up from his chair at the sight of her, it’s just, they were supposed to start their meeting five minutes ago. When she hadn’t called him in he was being polite but now maybe he can distract her. That’s all.

He grabs her a drink first, what assistant goes into an appraisal without one? An idiot assistant that’s who. Dean is decidedly not an idiot so it’s with her drink in his hand that he knocks on the glass door like he’s not been dreading hearing what she thinks of him.

“Dean, what are you…?” She looks up at him confused, her question dying on her lips as they form a perfect ‘o’.

He wants to be annoyed that she forgot about him. Frustration is his knee-jerk reaction. Except there are these worry lines on her face that he hasn’t seen before so he doubles his efforts to let his own emotions go with a heavy swallow.

“I’m so sorry Dean, please sit down.” She searches for a minute as she speaks eventually picking up her phone and typing something furiously.

If he’s honest he wouldn’t have minded her postponing this, or canceling it, whatever. He knows she’s not going to let it go. Eventually, he’s going to end up in this situation, the receiving end of one of her meetings. And he’s not scared of her it’s just what she’s going to say that worries him. It’s one thing to think that your maybe your boss thinks you’re too dumb to do your job right, it’s a really shitty ending to his week to actually hear the words. That’s the sort of stuff you can’t just leave at your desk to have a nice weekend.

“Ok. Let’s go.” She says putting her phone down and giving him her full attention. “Why did you come to work here?”

Wow. She’s going straight for it. Her face is totally unreadable while she waits for an answer and he can’t fight the doubt in his gut. Obviously, he tries to bullshit his way out of getting fired at this point.

“Well, I mean. The company has got such a good reputation of-”

“Dean?” Thank god she stopped him because he had no idea where he was taking that sentence.

“Yeah?”

She smiles, the first time he’s seen her smile all day, and it’s more soothing than he knew he needed. “I’m sorry this is my fault. I forgot you haven’t had one of these with me before so I’ll be honest. I’ve never even looked at the template HR sent me. I’m really only looking to have a conversation with you, just be honest with me. It all stays in this room and I swear this isn’t a test.”

He lets out a giant puff of air he didn’t know he’d been holding in and his shoulders drop thankfully. It’s pretty impossible not to smile back at her or be sucked into her pleas for honesty. He lets himself get too comfortable with her so it all tumbles out too easy. So quickly that his brain doesn’t even approve the words.

“I really, really hated temping, getting treated like a thing and passed about for whatever. There was one guy who didn’t even bother to learn my name. He just called me ‘sport’”

She wrinkles her nose as she nods, “that I believe.” He also sees the flash of guilt that breezes across her face then and wonders what it’s for, she’s called him Dean since day one. “I think we’ve all been there, I know I have. How are you liking it here though? I know the hours aren’t great but how are you finding the actual work?”

He struggles to think about the question straight away because he’s distracted by her admission of being a temp herself. He’d forgotten that she didn’t pop up in the world as this put together sales VP that she is. It kind of blows his mind to imagine her running around after someone else getting them lunch and printing out memos but he supposes she had to start somewhere. The pads of his fingers itch like her story is something for him to scratch at. But this meeting isn’t for him to ask about her, as much as he wants to.

“It’s fine, great even. Everyone is great, the work is great. There was a lot to learn but I think I’ve got a handle on it. I guess everything is just-”

“Great?” She finishes his sentence with a grin and he’s not even bothered by being cut off. He should be, would be usually. Except he’s not because she’s joking with him and slowly it’s starting to turn into an actual conversation which means his palms aren't nearly as clammy as they had been then he’d come in.

“I know this question is going to sound like I’m trying to trick you but I promise I’m not. Where do you want to be in five years? Or, should I say, do you know what you want to do?”

He’s too comfortable again. That and he heard her say shit earlier. His answer is so automatic and honest that he doesn’t really have time to censor it, “not a fucking clue.”

His eyes widen the second it slips out and she freezes for way too long.

And then something unexpected happens. She laughs.

He’s heard her laugh before but he’s never been the one making her laugh. Maddy gets it out of her when they have lunch every now and then, and she’s laughed down the phone. This one is for him though, a laugh he’s never heard before. It’s all unexpected and coming from somewhere deep in her belly, and he did that. His embarrassment melts into a relieved chuckle of his own.

“That might be the most honest answer I’ve ever heard.” She manages through the amusement as it dies in her throat. She has to suck in a quick puff of air for how suddenly it had hit her and pride flutters in his chest.

He shrugs, “it’s true I guess. It’s why I put up with temping anyway. I wanted to see what was out there.”

Now there’s something determined on her face. “I’d really love to help you figure it out if you’re ok with that? I think we can put a plan together so you can try your hand at a few things. How does that sound?”

He really hadn’t expected this. He’d almost called in sick today to avoid sitting in this room. And he knows he hasn’t got the feedback part yet but he can’t imagine she’d be offering him this if she didn’t have some modicum of faith in him. She makes it so easy for him to nod gratefully as he answers, “that would be awesome.”

“Y/N?”

You look up from your desk and before you notice the source of your name you see how the lights of the office are brighter against the darkness flooding in the windows. The last time you’d looked up it was daylight. Only after being crushed at having lost half a day to your panic, do you notice Charlie. Not for anything she’s done, but she’s probably the last person you want to see considering today’s various email chains.

You plaster a smile on your face as best you can, trying to maintain your usual light conversation with her, “now I know it’s serious since you’ve come to see me.”

She grins that same loveable grin that she always seems to have for the few people she genuinely enjoys talking to. You’re torn between being pleased she’s still smiling at you like that and thinking that it makes all of this so much harder.

“Word on the street is that you haven’t left this office all day so I figured this was the only way to get some face time.”

Word on the street? You glance at the clock on your computer, 8:45pm, and then you look over at the desk on the other side of the glass where Dean is still sitting. Not without a yawn you notice.

“Come in, take a seat, just give me a second.” You jump up with more fire than you’ve had all day and stand at the door where Charlie had been leaning. “Dean, go home.”

His head whips round to look at you, an argument on his lips no doubt, but you belay it before he has the chance, “call me a car for nine-thirty and then get out of here. Please. It’s Friday night.”

He nods, his curled lips vaguely apologetic even though it’s your fault he’s still sitting there for crying out loud.

“See you Monday.” You order again before shutting the door behind you, he doesn’t need to hear this conversation while he’s going home.

“I’m surprised you’re still talking to me.” You don’t waste any time avoiding the elephant in the room once you and Charlie are alone.

She laughs and you’re genuinely surprised by her attitude, you knew she was pretty laid back but she had to turn the website off five hours ago because the distribution center is out of stock of the top 50 lines. Because of your sale.

“You’re one of the few people around here I actually like talking to, besides, it’s only stock. Nothing wrong with my actual site. Now Doug? Yeah, he might be mad at you.” There’s a playful twinkle in her eye, no one truly likes Doug after all.

You grimace even though you don’t want to, you want to stay calm and collected but he already thought you were public enemy number one before this all happened. “When isn’t he mad at me?”

Charlie sits forward in her chair so that her elbows rest on the edge of your desk and her head sits innocently in her hands, “I only wanted to check you’re ok. I know you’re probably sitting up here blaming yourself-“

“It’s my fault, so yeah. I am.”

She purses her lips and raises an eyebrow for being interrupted, “it could have have happened to anyone. And you’re smart enough to know that at the end of the day we just made money. Yeah, we’ve got some issues to fix but we’re still turning a profit.”

The smile you crack is half appreciative and still half fake. “It didn’t happen to anyone though, it happened to me. Micheal is going to have my ass. He wants to see me when he’s back in next week.”

“Ass?” She can’t stop herself from beaming with a mock affronted tone, “Y/N! Such language in the office!”

Your eyes dart about excessively as you lean in to whisper, “fuck off Charlie.”

It sets you both off and for the first time since the now infamous RE: The Website email chain you feel genuinely lighter. Yes you’d still have to deal with Michael next week and yes you’d be working all day tomorrow to help try and find stock in any of your stores to transfer over, but as you laugh with Charlie you can’t help but think that maybe you have at least one more friend in this company than you previously thought.

Everyone hates the dick that runs off the subway as soon as the doors open, pushing past people and diving through crowds with no consideration for anyone else, like they’re the only one trying to get to work.

Today Dean is that dick.

He’s late, again. While it might be the second time there’s no backup today. No Maddy to cover for him until he arrives. And it’s only 30 minutes but that’s enough that she’ll already be there, wondering where he is and sending out a search party for her goddamn coffee probably. He’s one of the few people that has seen her before her first coffee of the day and he knows how much she needs it. If she’s a little crazy the rest of the time she’s fucking certifiable without caffeine.

It’s kind of deja vu when he arrives. It’s normal that he’s the first person on the floor but it’s still empty when he arrives, the same as his first day. He looks at his watch to confirm and, yep, he’s definitely late and she should definitely be here. His movements are slow and cautious like she’s waiting to pounce attack from somewhere with an empty mug in her hands, except she doesn’t. He makes it all the way to his desk, his messenger bag dropped unceremoniously at his feet and still nothing. It’s only once he logs into his computer with an overhasty sigh that he sees it, a new email at the top of his inbox.  

Got called into an emergency meeting, won’t be back till 9. Cancel my 8am call.

Fuck. He is so fucked. It’s Monday morning and he’s late but worse than that, she’s gone into a two-hour meeting without a drop of caffeine in her system. She didn’t even sign her name, which, she always does. She’s hot on that email etiquette shit even when she’s firing one out from her phone.

He looks down at his bag and wonders if he should even bother being here when she gets back before he remembers that meeting with her on Friday. She’d given him real work to do, she’d made promises to get him experience in other departments, but mostly she’d been normal. Like an actual normal person, halfway to being a friend, and that’s what he’s clinging to. That version of her wouldn’t fire him for being half an hour late. Once the panic subsides he thinks the crazy version wouldn’t either.

Pinging open the meeting room calendar he sees that it’s that dick Doug who’s booked the room and his decision is made right there. There’s no way she’ll survive and he doesn’t intend to leave her to suffer more than necessary. So, he makes her usual, with an extra shot by way of apology, and heads to the elevator. She didn’t say do not disturb or anything and he’ll just knock, take it in and leave. Let Doug hate him, as long as she doesn’t.

The biggest challenge is not spilling hot coffee over himself when the elevator chugs to life and then stops two floors up with an equally bracing shudder, but this is not his first rodeo and Dean has nimble fingers. After surviving the trip knocking on the meeting room door is no problem at all, he doesn’t even hesitate.

“Come in.” It’s muffled by the wood but it’s definitely a male voice that orders him in.

Maybe he would have hesitated if he’s known that the entire VP team was in here. Or maybe he wouldn’t have come faster when he sees the look on Y/N’s face.

They’re all sat like any other meeting except they all seem a little more constipated than normal. And they’re all facing her. She’s sitting there flushed with what looks like shame, her forehead resting in one hand as if she can barely hold her own head up to face them. Dean has no clue what’s going on but he doesn’t like it.

It takes her three seconds to look up and spot him at the door but it feels like three hours. It’s worth the wait anyway because as flustered and broken as she looks staring into the table her face melts when she looks at him. She smiles big and bright and for a moment it reaches all the way to her eyes. And she’s not even looking at the coffee in his hand.

“Sorry, just came to bring you this.” He says to her, ignoring the other men in the room who’s sphincters appeared to have tightened even more at his interruption.  

She nods, “thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” He can tell she means it and he thinks it’s about more than the coffee.

He smiles back at her and then straightens his face out to offer the briefest of acknowledgments to the other VP’s before leaving. He almost doesn’t go back to his desk when he’s out of the room. He considers setting up camp outside just in case she needs him or so he’s there when she gets out because she looks like she needs something, then he remembers that’s ridiculous. She’s his boss and tough as nails at that. Plus it’d probably be a waste of two hours.

When he gets back to their floor he’s surprised to see someone sitting on his desk. Not at it, on it. She turns to him at the sound of his footsteps and beams.

“You must be Dean!”

He knows the voice as soon he hears it since he talks to her at least once a day. Although he had no idea the voice was attached to someone as hot as the woman standing in front of him.

“Sabina?

“Hey Dean,” she draws out his name while she sizes him up, ending with a satisfied grin as she reaches out to shake his hand. “It’s great to finally put a face to the voice.”

It might be half-past seven in the morning but Dean raises an eyebrow like he’s just bumped into her at a bar, “same here. I had no idea what I was missing out on.”

This woman in the short skirt and power jacket, that any other day he might call a boss bitch, giggles and then pouts her lips at him for eliciting the reaction.

“So, where is our boss?” He doesn’t miss the reminder that Sabine isn't his boss.

“Stuck in a meeting, she won’t be back for over an hour.”

Dean not being in the office when she arrived that morning had been disconcerting. Doug calling her within five minutes and summoning her to a meeting had been terrifying. The room itself, the faces and the conversation had been hell on earth. It was, of course, a thinly veiled ambush. An outlet for the other VP’s to vocalise their displeasure at the sheer amount of work her problem would require from all of their teams. Doug’s being the hardest hit. Him already hating you the most. You’re surprised he wasn’t spitting bile by the end.

You want to say it was better once they got it out of their system but that would imply that they stopped with the aggression. Even once you were all talking logistics and solutions they couldn’t hide their frustration. You didn’t even want to think about the eye rolls and mutters when you got up in the front of the room and lead the charge in making a list of tasks and assigning jobs. There was no appeasing them, not even by taking more than you should yourself.

You get it. You messed up. Although that wasn’t really harsh enough, you fucked up. Even if you kind of didn’t. You did the research and even in your worst case scenarios, this being one of them except for the shutting the website down part, the margins weren’t terrible. Yes, there would be a slight knock-on effect for selling that quantity at a sale price but you still sold the stock.

It’s not enough. If you try and point that out, or talk about the fact that you’d still made money they brought it back to the shame of it all. It’s such bad PR. Social media is raking us over the coals. Commercial suicide.

And people say women are dramatic.

Thankfully you’re all out ten minutes early, probably because they all need to go and think up some more insults for later. Regardless you feel like you’re floating when you get back to your floor. Freedom does that to a girl. Other people have started arriving now and Dean is at his desk typing away. He seems surprised when you stop in front of him and his eyes flick to the time in the corner of the screen.

“Sorry. I really don’t have a good excuse. My alarm…”

You hold your hand up with a smile, which is much easier to do out of that room, “it’s fine. You start work two hours earlier than anyone else just to be here for me. Just text me next time?”

He rubs the back of his neck as he agrees but stops as you try to walk away.

“Sabina is here. Well, not here, she went downstairs but she’ll be back at nine. Said she just wanted half an hour?”

You feel yourself perk up a little at this information. Sabina would be incredibly helpful right now and considering her sales area includes fifth, which still has the sale on, she could potentially be bringing you good news.

“That’s actually perfect, can you send her straight in when she gets back please?”

“Sure thing.”

You look at the lock screen of your phone and note the time as you slump into your comfortable chair. You have seven minutes to breathe and try to forget the last two hours. Well, not forget since you have a considerable list of actions points from the meeting, but forget the experience anyway. You have seven minutes to try and expel the embarrassment and failure that clings to you.

Michael isn’t back in town till Thursday so that gives you three days to fix this. If the website isn’t back up before he arrives you will be a thousand percent done here. You’re actually fairly confident that as long as the site is back up then you’ll be fine. But if you’ve made the mess and not cleaned it up? That would be a cause for concern. 

Continue to Chapter Five

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @assassinofmasyaf Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles  Story tags: @mannls @22sarah08

[imagineredwood]

***Another storyline down :) I miss you guys.***

Part 1     Part 2       Part 3

“Coffee?”

Happy nodded his head and watched as you gracefully made your way around the kitchen. Pulling out a mug for him and pouring in the coffee, taking a deep breath as the steam and aroma made its way up to your nose. You left it black, tossed in a spoon of sugar and stirred it, Happy not one for light nor overly sweet coffee. You set the mug down in front of him and smiled as he reached for it, throwing a wink your way.  You turned back around and pulled out a plate, pulling the warm bagel from the toaster and spreading on some butter. Happy watched as you whipped together a quick breakfast for him, happily humming to yourself as you finally were back in your own home and feeling safe.

Tig had handled the boyfriend situation, making sure to sever that tie once and for all, while happy had handled the safety situation. New and improved locks for the whole house, reinforced thresholds for all the doors and a top-notch camera surveillance security system that could be looked at from the clubhouse as well, thanks to Juice. The only thing left according to Happy was a new gun. Something with good knockdown power, he has said. So, after a good hour at the local gun shop in downtown Charming, handling various pistols to see which felt better for you, you were now in the country side with Happy doing target practice with your new piece.

Happy smirked as he watched you from the fence, hit all the targets one by one. Your aim was great on your own, but you were a little rough around the edges with your stance. A couple nudges here and there, now you had cleared the whole setup, three times over. You turned around and faced happy, a content smile on your face as he stood back up straight and walked towards you, pulling the ear muffs from your head and purposefully messing up your hair a he did. You shoved him playfully and put the piece down in the case, shaking out your hair and tossing it over to one side.

You almost missed the look Happy had given you then, his eyes locked in on your face and how beautiful you looked with the sun glittering off of hour hair, your eyes as bright as ever in the brightness. You slowed your hand from running through your hair and stayed looking at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Let’s get back to the club house before your brother sends out a search party.”

You grinned and cheered as Jax jumped Tig’s last solid and landed the 8 ball in furthest right pocket, the boys erupting into chaos as he snatched the wad of cash from the edge of the table that had been stacking up throughout the night. He simply shrugged with his signature smirk as they all babbled wondering how he had done it, Tig’s mouth hung open.

An arm made its way around your shoulders as you looked on and you smiled softly, looking over to see Kozik in the seat next to you.

“How you doing sweetheart?”

“I’m great. Better than I’ve been in a while if I’m being honest.”

The blonde grinned and nodded his head, his right hand squeezing your shoulder as his left lifted his beer bottle to tap it against yours.

“Well I’m glad to hear it. You deserved to get away from that shithead. We’re all happy to have you.”

You smiled in return and nodded, truthfully grateful for the warm reception you’d gotten since getting more involved again. Once upon a time, this was a normal thing, for you to be in the clubhouse during a weekend party, drinking and laughing and enjoying yourself. But the life happened and your relationship with Dylan had seemed to drain out all the happiness from your life, including your interaction with your older brother and the club which had come to be your family just as it had come to be Tig’s. now that was all in the past and you were making up for lost time, getting back in the swing of things which included meeting the new faces of SAMCRO.

You continued your conversation with him, making each other laugh, completely oblivious to the glare that was boring into the two of you from across the room as Happy watched. The arm around your shoulder had been enough to get his attention but now the arm had long since been removed and the hand that had been draped over your shoulder in a friendly manner was now softly grasping onto your knee. Happy was not pleased with the sight in the least but had tried to stay to himself. He had no reason to be jealous he continued to remind himself. You weren’t his. You weren’t anyone’s. You were your own woman and had just come from a relationship, a shitty one at that. No way you were going to e interested in getting back into one, especially with someone like him. But as the clock ticked by, happy could feel himself growing more and more irritated with the sight of another brother touching you that he stood stiffly and walked out the clubhouse, into the night air.

Happy had always had feelings for you. From the moment he had met you years ago, he had been drawn to you. Your smile, how your eyes lit up a room. How you loved to laugh and always seized the opportunity to do so. You were a breath of fresh air, the only female that he had ever truly been able to see himself make a life with. But you were Tig’s sister and you were off limits. Kozik should know that.

“What’re you doing out here by yourself killer?”

He didn’t turn around or react as Kozik made his way outside to him, pulling his pack of cigarettes from his kutte. He offered one to Happy but he kept his eyes forward, silently shaking his head. Kozik didn’t seem to pick up on the tension.

“Had to take a breather. It was getting stuffy in there.”

Happy simply nodded and stayed quiet as Kozik began to make small talk, telling about the ride down from Tacoma and how shitty the weather had been but Happy wasn’t listening. His mind was just on you, and Kozik, and his fucking arm wrapped around you and his mouth was speaking before his brain even had a chance to keep up.

“You tryin’ to get in her pants?”

Kozik cut off in his sentence turning to squint at Happy.

“Who’s?”

“You know who.”

Kozik laughed softly and shook his head, taking a swing from his beer.

“Tig’s sister?”

“Y/N. Her name is Y/N.”

Kozik’s smile wavered as he took in the tone of Happy’s voice and finally took note of the tension in the air.

“No man. We’re just talking. Just shooting the shit and getting to know each other.”

Happy nodded then, more to himself than anything and looed back forwards.

“Good. She’s got enough on her plate. She don’t need someone coming and playing with her feelings.”

Kozik nodded and held his hands up in defense.

“I’m not bro. Just making a friend. That’s all.”

Happy nodded again and felt his shoulders relax, Kozik clapping a hand on his shoulder before tossing his cig and heading back inside.

Hap grumbled and ran a hand roughly over his face before turning around and heading back inside this time. When he looked back to where you were, he found you sitting alone this time, Kozik over by the bar and away from you. He felt bad in that moment, wondering if he had over reacted and made his way over to you. He tried to ignore the clutch in his heart when your eyes lit up upon seeing him.

“Hey Happy.”

He smiled, noticing the tired look in your eyes.

“You look exhausted.”

With a nod, you finished off the last of your beer and stood up to stretch, grabbing your purse.

“Yeah, I’m gonna head out. Walk me to my car?”

“Of course.”

Tossing your empty bottle into the nearby trashcan, you waved to goodbye to the guys, Juice waving back.

“You leaving already?”

“Yeah. Its already pretty late and I’m tired.”

“Ok. I can walk you out if you want?”

You didn’t have time to respond to him, barely even enough time to register what he had said before Happy was shutting him down.

“No. I’m taking her.”

His voice left no room for disagreement and there was a sharp edge to it that had his brothers looking at him. He shifted slightly under their gaze and tried to hide a wince. He wasn’t doing too good at this whole hiding his feelings thing.

You noticed the tension and forced a yawn, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Thanks for the good time guys. I appreciate it.

The other Sons nodded and you smiled as the rest of them said their goodbyes to you before you and Happy waked out of the club house. With you gone, Jax was the first to speak as they all looked at each other.

“What the hell was that?”

Happy had expected that everyone would be still doing there own thing when he returned from walking you out, so he was surprised to say the least when he came back in and found them all looking at him.

He grabbed someone’s jacket from the stool and tossed it up on the bar, taking a seat in the empty stool beside Juice and poured himself a shot, not looking at anyone.

“What?”

They all shrugged and smirked, Tig feigning ignorance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My sister drive out alright?”

Happy snorted and knocked back the shot.

“Of course she did. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

Everyone exchanged looks and smiled even more as Kozik playfully nudged his shoulder against his.

“Yeah, that’s why he almost bit my fucking head off for putting my arm around her.”

“And mine for offering to walk her out.”

They all laughed as Juice chimed in and Happy held his middle finger out to them.

“She asked me to. Besides, nobody can take care of her like I can because…because I just fucking like her alright? I got feelings for her and shit. It is what it is.”

Tired of hiding it, Happy just let it out before looking back down at the bar with a scowl. He was waiting for someone to laugh, someone to poke fun, Tig to question him but instead there was an eerie silence after his revelation and he looked up expecting to find them looking at him. Instead he looked to find them all staring wide eyed behind him and he cursed under his breath before closing his eyes.

“She’s behind me isn’t she.”

They all stifled as laugh and he turned around to find you there hiding your face slightly behind your hair, a bashful and embarrassed smile on your face as you pointed to the lump of black fabric in front of Happy.

“I forgot my sweater.”

Grabbing the sweater, he turned around and hopped off the stool handing it over to you and rubbing the back of his neck.

“How much of that uh, did you hear?”

With a shrug, you pulled on your seater and smiled at him softly.

“Enough to ask you to walk me out to my car again.”

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

I was born in the 20th century and spent at least 55 years there. I was young, enthusiastic and hopeful. By the end of the century I was at my peak professionally. My parents were alive and so was Mr. Baseball, Johnny Crown and Dan MacMurray. All five of them are gone now as well as many, many others.

If the twentieth century was my birthmother than I left claw marks on her uterus trying to stay where I was. The twenty first century was pushing but I resisted it for the first 22 years.

I didn't have a cell phone...didn't want one. I didn't wear a watch. Didn't need one. I had all the clocks that I needed and a wife to tell me what day it was if I needed a reminder.

I was living in my home town where I had spent my entire life. I had plenty of friends and was well regarded in my community. My computer skills were up to date. I could word process. I knew my way around photoshop. I loved my digital camera. I read books without a kindle. I went to the video shops every week.I listened to the Yankees on the radio or went to a Red Wings game at Red wing/Silver/stadium

Yeah, the weather was Rochester shitty, all gray and cloudy but I had become used to it. I could use the oppressive darkness as an excuse for my many moods. When I needed to get away, I had a cottage on Canandaigua Lake.

Change was on the horizon. I wasn't looking for a light at the end of the tunnel, yeah that light may have been a locomotive coming at me.

Gradually, I began to social network. I got a kindle and started building my library. I got prostate cancer . After undergoing radiation and profound fatigue, I "recovered". The Doctor advised us to head down South which we had been hankering to do anyways. We sold our share of the cottage, packed up our gear, sold our house and headed to North Carolina.

We had family near Charlotte who had made the move before us, so we wouldn't be strangers. When we got here, they helped us get settled.

I kept up with my Rochester friends on Facebook. I stashed my photos on Flickr. I'd gone about as far as I wanted to go with technology.

My exuberance had occasionally turned into exhaustion as we made our way through the first two decades of the twenty first century. Lynn does almost all of the driving. I concentrate on a 5 mile radius which is all I need. Within that five miles there's a hospital, a couple of grocery stores and my doctor's office.

Of course as a Boomer I could go on and on but I'm pretty sure that you've had enough setup by now and you get my drift. I remained anchored in the twentieth century until Christmas 2021.

Lynn bought me a cell phone for when we go the mall in case I get lost (or she loses me) which has happened already and I had to get a mall cop to find her.

8 months into it, I'm hooked on my phone. Can't figure out how I got along without it.

Last week, she bought me an Apple watch which keeps track of everything that I do and has introduced me to my new favorite form of exercise; "standing around". Yup, the watch actually sets a goal for time standing along with everything else including how much time I take to wash my hands. Plus, I'm told that I can talk into the goddamned thing like Dick Tracy did in the comics or like Don Adams did with his shoe in Get Smart.

Yesterday, she bought me some new sneaks, black Nike airs with white trim which I can use on our treadmill. I've never used the treadmill before and had contempt for it. Why the hell would anybody run in place when there was a great big beautiful world outside ready to be appreciated. Well, the current heat wave prohibits walking around outdoors which leads to standing around indoors or sitting down watching teevee or lying down on the couch reading/resting my eyes.

Plus we just joined a brand new rec center which caters to"senior" citizens. I didn't want to hang around with old people until I came to the realization that I was twenty years older than the most junior seniors. We use the indoor track and last week I was one of only two men taking chair yoga along with 38 women, most of them previous blondes. I even went so far as to say "namaste" at the end of the class.

Lynn has been telling our daughter Mary about all the changes that I've been going through and Mary is thrilled that I'm "finally in the 21rst century.

So there we were last night; me in my new Nikes with my phone in my pocket and my watch on my wrist. We cooked up some meatless burgers on our Weber grill and poured a couple of light beers.

I put some dressing on the top of my burger and reached for the ketchup. The 21rst century ketchup containers are stored upside down to eliminate shake and anticipation. So here I am, all modern getting ready to put the ketchup on my burger.

I flip back the top and start squeezing. Nothing is coming out. I tried to non-chalantly put the ketchup back before Lynn noticed my hapless struggle. Too late.

"What's the problem"

"The ketchup won't come out"

"You've got to be kidding me. Let me see it."

I hand her the ketchup. She rolls her eyes and says, "watch this".

She screws off the top of the container which reveals a protective adhesive lid. She peeled off the lid. She squirted some ketchup on her burger. She looked at me as if I was moron from another century.

I offered the usual weak excuse.

"This is why I don't like these modern ketchup containers. Back in my day, it was a whole lot easier. The ketchup bottles were right side up. You turned them upside down and shook the bottle until the ketchup came out."

She was ready for that one.

"When's the last time that you opened a bottle OR container of ketchup"

I honestly couldn't remember. They always seemed to be open

"For the last fifty years they've had a lid on top of the ketchup to prevent sickos from contaminating the ketchup."

All of a sudden, with my watch and Nikes and phone and light beer and electric grill, I stepped back into the twentieth century before sickos started dropping poison into ketchup containers.

What else could I do but laugh at my own anachronism, thankful for the twentieth century including some of the concerns that we have now that we didn't have then.

We had our meal and proceeded into the the twenty first century.

We turned on our cable, streaming teevee and learned that the home of a former president had been raided by the FBI and that thirty years from now the current heat wave will feel like an oasis as heat and flood will make large portions of the earth uninhabitable and subsequent flooding will destroy Oregon and California.

If we don't have a civil war in the meantime.

Let's hope we're all not looking at a locomotive but in the meantime, let's enjoy the tunnel. Let's believe in magic. Let's hold onto hope.

We can't get back in the womb.

[bramblepaws]

i felt like writing my thoughts on the movie “Kin” down after i saw it today

be aware: i didn’t proofread this at all and it contains spoilers for the whole movie

The movie opens with a lot of interesting shots, actually — I was surprised and intrigued by the lingering focus on the mundane bits of Detroit. It moved to interspersed shots of a warehouse and alien noises, big flashes of clearly non-human-sourced lights. It showed a bit too much here, IMO — should’ve stuck with more mystery. The transition between that and moving to Eli’s daily life is choppy. It is established that Eli is a troublemaker, that he loves his dead mother very much, and that he does minor criminal work to make money (despite being fourteen) because his father doesn’t make enough to buy him a pair of shoes. He does this by wandering through abandoned warehouses and stealing wires.

The relationship between Eli and his father is clearly strained, but there isn’t much more to it than that. We are told, at some point, that the father is “hard on [him] because life is hard” which is the same bullshit excuse that many fathers have used before. We are also told, by the father, that he loves Eli — but we aren’t shown this. The dad just says some shit and has Eli do work, and barely spares him a loving, fatherly glance.

The third main character, Eli’s big brother, is introduced somewhere in here. Already I’ve forgotten his name, as I mentally referred to him as “that asshole” throughout the movie. He’ll be known as such from here on.

T-A has just gotten out of jail after six years, after some sort of armed robbery (this was picked up through little bits of dialogue throughout the first act, and it isn’t elaborated on any further, which is fine, but, you know). He’s established to owe some dangerous people $60k, which he does not have.

He tries to get the money from his dad, calls them “dangerous people” without elaborating on the fact that they WILL kill all three of them if he doesn’t pay up, and promptly gets kicked out.

Oh, by the way, Eli has found some crazy space gun in the warehouse we were shown earlier. There were some dead dudes in helmets, and one mostly dead dude in a helmet. Eli leaves (smart) the first time he encounters this scene, and then comes back after having some dream about the gun at 1 am with no backup (unsmart).

At some point, Dad finds out that Eli was taking wires from abandoned houses, yadda yadda bullshit reason they need to go to the dad’s office at 10 pm, he finds the dudes & T-A stealing from the office safe while Eli waits in the car.

For some reason this idiot father proceeds to confront the two armed robbers with a crowbar. He is, of course, shot. Eli manages to not hear this through the shitty apple earbuds that come with the phone. Don’t have that turned up too high, kid, you’ll damage your ears.

T-A tackles the main villain — oh, by the way, this dude is James Franco, it was wild seeing him play this weird gangster man  — and causes him to shoot evil-dude’s brother. T-A then runs out and peels away with Eli in the truck.

T-A gives his brother some bullshit about how there was a bad cement spill, and their dad is going to be working around the clock on cleaning it up, and would he like to go on a roadtrip to Idaho?

And Eli presents a token amount of suspicion and resistance, but goes along with it after some prodding. So the chase begins.

James Franco is pissed about his brother being dead, so he’s gonna follow them at some point. Eli and T-A are driving across the country and do all kinds of cool brotherly things, like pee outside and go to strip clubs. Did I mention that Eli is fourteen?

They meet up with some cool dancer at this strip club who expresses concern for, you know, a fucking fourteen-year-old being in a place like that. She also gets along with T-A as he showers her with the money he stole from his father’s safe, and gets very drunk and disorderly. He starts getting wailed on by the club owners when he gets too disorderly, and Eli has to come save his ass with the big space gun. He shoots it at something and everyone’s all scared or whatever. Stripper decides to help T-A out and drive off with them. The only reasoning for this that we have been given is that the club owner called her a bitch & T-A said “That’s no way to talk to women” or something like that.

They go shoot some hay bales. The aliens that own the gun are also chasing them.

T-A realizes that he left the bag with all of his money in the club. They go to a motel and the stripper bonds with Eli and then tells T-A they should rob the club to get the money back. They do this, using Eli and his space gun to intimidate everyone, and run off to Vegas.

T-A almost tells Eli that their dad is dead, stripper interrupts him, so he goes to gamble instead while she gets Eli some food. Eli sees on the news that his dad is dead & T-A is wanted for his murder. Also Eli is listed as a possible suspect? Instead of as someone who was probably kidnapped?? Despite the fact that he’s fourteen????? Though maybe that’s how it is in America when you’re black. Shit be bad.

Eli screams at T-A and then they get arrested. T-A is put in a jail cell and very poorly tries to explain to Eli. Then… the bad guys show up. To the police station. And shoot their way in. All … 5 or 6 of them. One of the shot officers gives Eli a key so he can go get his space gun. Which is… an interesting choice….

Eli gets his space gun as James Franco threatens T-A. Eli shoots a bunch of people and it’s nbd. James Franco disappears somewhere in here, the alien dudes approach on motorcycles despite being shown to teleport somehow earlier, and the FBI shows up to circle the police station.

Eli and T-A go into the lobby and put down their weapons so they arent shot by police, which is of course when James Franco shows up with a gun. Then the aliens burst in with a grenade that temporarily stops time.

And you know, everything has been kind of straightforward up to this point. There are way too many threads in here, but they can all be followed pretty well. There’s a kid and his issues with his family, and his brother’s a terrible person who dragged him into a mess. There are these criminals that’re after them. And then another thread, where the kid found a mysterious sci-fi gun and the owners of that are after him, trying to get it back. Pretty straightforward! Not amazingly well done, but done well enough to keep things interesting.

And then the two masked dudes step in, and open up their helmets. And one of them is Michael B Jordon. Oh shit, that’s a human, is what I was thinking. Good twist! Didn’t expect it! Are they from another planet? The future? Mind you, this is at the end of the movie, so there’s gonna be no time to explain shit. But maybe some mystery with the humans will happen and that’ll be interesting (though not good).

But then Michael B Jordon starts talking! And he gives an entire monologue about how Eli is actually one of their race, and that’s why he can shoot the gun but no-one else can, and there were people here to kill him but Michael B Jordon got em first, and Eli wasn’t supposed to find the gun, and Eli is too young but when the time comes he’ll be important in the war on this other planet that he’s from. Oh, also, Michael B Jordon is this dude’s brother. Thank you for the gun, we’re gonna kill James Franco, and now we’re leaving through an ice portal or something? Bye!

The other masked person is someone I’ve never seen or heard of, and she says like three words, so I’m not really sure why she’s there.

And then time starts up again, T-A is arrested and shipped off to jail, and Eli supposedly leaves with the stripper who popped back up.

So! That all just happened! What the fuck!

The first act? Clunky, very clunky, but not bad! Set up everything it needed to and set up who the characters where. Was overall interesting enough to get me invested (not in T-A, but in Eli). Second act was a little bit messier, but it was still trying to hold its own and push on through.

The emotional climax of the movie — wherein Eli discovers his dad is dead — was flat. Very flat. It was built up for a long time, and didn’t have the punch it needed to land well.

And the… second? Climax? Where the bad guys show up… was very odd. What criminal gang of 5 people storms a fully operating police station with no casualties on their end & no hesitation at all? What police react the way these guys all reacted???

The third act was a mess. It really highlighted how there was just too much going on in the story — these bad guys and the police and aliens and brother conflict — and then added even more to it! By the way Eli, you’re an alien and we’ll need you later.

There was no setup to this! And Michael B Jordon just listed this all in one paragraph and then bounced! What!!!!!

Overall, I would say it was an entertaining movie, but not a good one. It had interesting bits and pieces. I liked the concept of brother conflict solved through road-trips. But the execution was sloppy, and the movie had way too many other things going on for it to be considered a “good” plot. Why was it even necessary to have an alien subplot? Couldn’t the kid have found some sort of other weapon — perhaps some advanced military-grade tech that registers to the first person who touches it. Or it could’ve NOT had him be the one with a big gun, considering he was fourteen and his older brother was the criminal. It would’ve been much more heartwarming if the older brother had given up criminal activity because he wanted to connect with Eli — but there was the outside conflict of James Franco chasing the two of them that they had to solve.

[yanishere]

Surviving Five Nights - Night 6 - Yan

Tag list: @undocumented-terriaki

“Is it too late for me to back out of this?”

Yan is hooking the last of the cables that lead to the various speakers they spent most of the afternoon hooking up. It’s surprising how easily they managed to walk around this restaurant given the warrant still out for their arrest. “Yes.”

AJ is sat at the security office desk looking incredibly nervous and given all the things that Yan told him, they’re not all that surprised about it. “Not that I’m not excited to be the sole defense against this murderous robot you say lives in the walls, but what if I screw this up?”

Yan sighs, moving over to flip between the cameras on the screen. “You’ll be able to see where it is. You press the button,” they gesture to the small selection of buttons hooked up to the speakers, “it makes a noise and the thing will go investigate. Simple.”

“Can I at least lock the door?” If it can’t get into the room, then AJ will feel a whole lot more better.

“Door won’t lock with the animatronics in here.”

“Why would the animatronics be in here?!”

Yan frowns at AJ as though he’s just asked the stupidest question in the world and makes their way to the door. “Because the zombie bot scares them.”

“It scares me more!” AJ calls after them. Yan doesn’t hear though because they’re gone. Probably checking one of the speakers. “I’m a lot squishier than they are.” AJ mumbles.

When midnight finally ticks around, the animatronics are safe in the office, and AJ is in position, probably complaining. Yan isn’t worried though, they’ll win him over soon enough. Especially when they can’t tell him to stop talking.

The plan is simple. AJ distracts that thing, gets it out into the restaurant and Yan goes through that door, because that’s where Rowan is, there’s not a shadow of a doubt in their mind.

Yan waits on the main stage, fingers tapping against their sheathed katana. They went to grab it from their place because despite it being probably very little help, it’s more of a comfort thing. Plus it makes for an imposing silhouette, and though the zombie bot doesn’t experience fear, whoever is controlling it will.

The speaker at the edge of the stage gives out the sound of a kid laughing, the cue that Yan needs to move their butt. If this works, the zombie bot will be coming through those doors and as long as AJ does his job right, that’ll give them time to crack that door open.

Yan makes sure they’re hidden as the doors to the main room open, sticking to the shadows as the rotting robot crosses the room. About halfway across the room, Yan sees it’s almost at the speaker which means AJ will probably get it to go somewhere else, so they break from the shadows and burst through the doors to try and get out before it sees.

It takes at least five minutes to find the hairline crack, occasionally hearing the kid’s voice in the distance,. AJ seems to be keeping his head at least. That’s something. When they’ve found the door, Yan draws back, practically throwing themself at the wall, rightfully expecting it wouldn’t just open without force.

The first shove doesn’t do anything, neither does the second, but as Yan draws back to throw themself at it again, the door just opens inwards. Yeah that’s not suspect at all. Stepping into the hole in the wall, Yan’s hand instinctively reaches for their katana as they peer into the darkness beyond.

There’s a bright light in the corner that’s right in Yan’s eyes, but as they blink against it, they see Rowan tied to a chair, straining to get free and frantically mouthing at them, but making no sound. Yan leans against the doorway, giving Rowan a smile and wink.

“I’m not an idiot.” they call into the room. “I rush in, try to get Rowan free, you sneak up behind me, knock me out and feed me to your murder bot. Give me some credit.”

Rowan looks at Yan in confusion, no idea what the hell is going on but turning as a frustrated sigh comes from behind the door. Lucas, the brown-haired secret day shift guard steps out looking mildly pissed. Yan sees the uniform, clocks the name badge, and sees the inky black veins. Though they don’t get exactly what’s going on, they can gleam enough from the situation.

“Does nobody in this world have a sense of dramatics?” Lucas angrily asks towards the restrained robot. Yan raises an eyebrow at that, drawing out their katana, holding it out, the blade pointing towards the asshole. He wants dramatics, Yan is more than willing to provide. Lucas raises an eyebrow at the blade and smirks, looking up, impressed. “Well that’s more like it.”

“I’m guessing you’re the guy in charge of the zombie bot.”

“What, Springtrap?” he giggles as he steps across the space, glancing back towards Yan. “I don’t need him any more. I’ve got something much better.” he reaches a hand, taking a firm grip of Rowan’s nearest shoulder and giving it a squeeze, stepping behind the chair he’s attached to and looking over the bot’s head, his piercing gaze boring right into Yan’s soul. Rowan keeps moving his mouth, trying to speak but it’s no use, nothing he says is heard.

Yan doesn’t like the overfamiliarity but they don’t show it, shaking their head. “I’m not letting you leave here with him.”

“Leave? I have no plans to leave. I have a nice little setup here. Nice little workshop, murderous security system, endless supply of pizza. Why would I ever leave?”

Yan gives a non-commital shrug. “Maybe because of the fire I set in the kitchen.”

Lucas’s smirk falters slightly and his grip on Rowan tightens. “You’re bluffing.”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. You can check the cameras. Oh,” Yan raises one finger to their lips in a faux innocence, “except the one room in this building without a working camera is the kitchen.” they tut. “Darn.”

Lucas takes almost a death-grip of Rowan’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare risk your little robot’s life.”

They raise a single finger to silence him. “His name is Rowan. And I’m taking him from you.” they point to the chair before gesturing over their own shoulder, “Then I’m grabbing AJ and the animatronics and we’re getting out of here before this tinder box burns to the ground.” They shrug. “With the shitty ventilation, it shouldn’t take too long.”

Lucas sighs in frustration, grabbing something from the work bench before turning and pointing a gun between Yan’s eyes. “Drop the ninja knife.” he orders. Yan throws the katana down despite Rowan’s silent protests. Lucas gestures towards the door with the gun. “Back out the door.”

Yan moves out the doorway, having the sense to move away and waiting until Lucas comes through, pulling a still restrained Rowan with him, his wrists now tied together. The gun stays trained on Yan, gesturing towards the nearest exit. Before they turn, Yan catches Rowan’s eye, raising their eyebrows before turning away to follow the directions.

They get a few steps before Yan calls out “Now!” Rowan throws his entire weight against Lucas, taking advantage of how close the madman is holding him to force him against the wall. Lucas drops to the floor, and Rowan stands there completely at a loss for the fact that that worked and got Lucas to let him go. Yan is on the ball though and loops an arm around Rowan, scooping the bot away and dragging him down the corridors.

Despite being right by the front door, Yan is running back into the heart of Fazbear’s. The air is starting to get thick and smoky and the temperature is starting to tick up. Rowan tries to say something, but his voice box is still disconnected. Still even if he isn’t heard, he looks pissed enough that Yan can hazard a guess as to what’s being said.

“Is something burning?” AJ asks as they approach. He’s stood in the doorway to the security office, looking understandably concerned as he sniffs at the air.

“Yep.” Yan guides Rowan, wrists still attached, towards AJ. “You’re in charge of getting him out. If he’s harmed I’m going to be pissed. Understood?” AJ nods. “Go!” Once they’re on their way. he turns to the animatronics, throwing his arms wide to make sure they keep their attention on him. “Kiss this place goodbye, calmly make your way out the nearest fire exit, and keep them safe.” he points after AJ and Rowan.

They all nod, Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica hurrying out. Foxy is right behind them but stops in the doorway as Yan passes him and heads to the office desk.

“YAAARR!” he makes a loud disapproving pirate noise. Yan turns to him.

“Someone has to make sure they don’t get out.”

This place is a bad place. It’s  got an awful reputation. It has a history of child murder. It has a maniac living in the wall, as well as a zombie bot. It’s unhygienic, pays less than minimum wage. and treats the beloved animatronics like scum. It needs to burn. And so do the two who’ve been using it as their sick and twisted personal playground.

Only one exit is open, the one that AJ, Rowan and Fazbear and Friends should be going through, so all they need to do is make sure Lucas and zombie bot are too busy fighting each other to get out. Thankfully, the speaker system should help with that.

“Here goes nothing.”

[ruinedbygaysstylinson]

Part 1: Hello, I've frequently lurked on your blog, first time sending an ask. I saw your 'overdue rant' and want to explain the other side respectfully. I used to stan Liam. I don't anymore, not that I don't appreciate what he did and how he and Zayn had (maybe have?) a great relationship. I think there is a difference between seeing something written in print and hearing it said. I like Z the most, I'll be honest so the fact that L dragged him 3 times (IRLnot print) doesn't sit right with me.

Part 2: So I’m disappointed by what Liam said, and if he/his team just admitted they were shitty things to say, me and most Ztans would be cool with it. But what he said was so unnecessary and could’ve been avoided? Hell Niall did it with grace in billboard. I would never talk shit abt Liam or try to change people’s minds abt him but that’s what you’re all doing now, trying to excuse what L said instead of calling him out. 1 can still stan people and see why someone might have a problem w them!

_____________________________________

Hello! First off, thanks for sharing your concerns and feelings with me so politely. I enjoy hearing the thoughts of people outside my corner of the fandom. I agree that there is a difference between print!Liam and live!Liam, and it definitely upset me to hear how Liam’s team incorporated Zayn into Liam’s promo tour. However, after moping around for a bit, I was able to step back and consider the biggest motivating factor to all this controversy.

Liam has mentioned Zayn multiple times in the past month. A few were references to his appreciation for Pillowtalk, and the other 3 were the comments in question. Let’s break them down one by one.

1) Liam Payne sat down for a chat with our old pal Dan Wootton. Dan is a longtime friend of Simon, and has broken literally every exclusive for Liam’s latest relationship with Simon’s close friend and XF judge. How convenient. Dan also has slammed each of the boys individually and as a band on multiple occasions. Regardless of that, he has still received solo exclusives from Zayn, Niall, Harry, and Liam (and I’m sure Louis’ moment is coming as well). In this interview, Liam apparently forgot that several times in the 2 years from April 2015 on, he revealed that he had spoken with Zayn and everything was good between them. Let’s recall the infamous elevator pap clip where Liam said he loves Zayn with his own mouth, and would never rule him out of a future 1D reunion. Poof. That’s gone now, and replaced with Liam “confiding” in Dan that he isn’t sure what Zayn’s problem was, and there won’t be an OT5 reunion. Keep in mind, this interview was recorded without video, so we don’t even know if the final cut included Liam’s original words on Zayn. He may have had to “repeat” himself to get Dan’s point across. In my opinion, considering the close relationship between Dan and Simon, and Simon’s dislike of Liam following his solo signing and the 2017 Brits, I think this interview is highly suspicious at best. Moving on..

2) Shortly after the interview with Dan was released, we got footage of Liam playing a twisted game where he had to choose one of his close friends to condemn. First of all, this question should NEVER have been asked. It’s highly inappropriate and his team should’ve screened it out. The fact that it was allowed to be asked is interesting, and I will get to that in a bit. If you haven’t seen the clip, Liam has to choose between Ed Sheeran, Harry, or Zayn to leave behind, like in a scenario similar to the Titanic. Breaking down the choices is tough, because there is no good answer. Ed has been publicly friends with the boys for years, and helped write Liam’s new single. Ed also has a ton of fans who wouldn’t take kindly to the thought of Liam abandoning him after he generously helped launch Liam’s solo career. Harry was in the middle of his own album promo tour, and Liam had already said that Harry’s style of music isn’t his favorite. I doubt he wanted to make multiple negative comments about one of his closest friends. Zayn and Liam did not continue their public relationship after March 2015, and everyone is aware that he left the band. Liam also complimented Zayn’s music in interviews before and after this clip. Choosing Zayn was the lesser of 3 evils as far as the public is concerned. Still technically evil, but the best choice in the face of an extremely loaded question. As far as how Liam answered the question, I don’t think Liam was being malicious. His wording was very specific. Liam’s sense of humor can be dark at times, but he didn’t actually say he would leave Zayn for dead. For all we know, he meant leave him behind with a life ring or something. I don’t think it’s wise to assume that Liam was purposefully trying to hurt Zayn in a pretend game that was obviously setup to make him cast a negative light on their relationship.

3) This Tuesday Liam attended the Glamour awards and presented James Corden with an award. In his speech, Liam spoke of how James wanted to be in a boyband, and shared that James was in a band of his own that even boasted a slogan. Liam commented that maybe if 1D had a slogan, Zayn wouldn’t have left, and he would keep that in mind for next time. There are a couple things that I would like to draw to your attention. First, Zayn did leave the band (whether you believe it was willing or not), but that doesn’t seem to be the issue. From what I’ve gathered, people are mad that Liam basically claimed that Zayn’s depature could’ve been avoided with something as small as a slogan. In other words, Liam seems to be oblivious to how difficult Zayn’s time in the band was. Let’s turn back the clock a bit. Liam and Zayn were extremely close friends for the entireity of OT5’s existence. They shared interests such as the world of superheroes and comic books, and commented multiple times on their similar taste in music. They also most likely shared far more personal subjects, such as difficulties with public opinion or lack of musical input. If you weren’t in the fandom for March 2015 and the following months, you may not realize that Liam was literally devastated by Zayn’s sudden departure. He cried on stage multiple times and was generally less enthusiastic for weeks following the incident. The fact that Liam is able to joke about something that upset him greatly tells me that some of his scars are healing. Liam is making light of what was clearly a very difficult situation for everyone involved, not trivializing what Zayn went through. Second, let’s all ponder what “keeping it in mind for next time” means. The next time one of your band members decides to abruptly leave mid-tour, or the next time Liam is in a band with Zayn? Of course, there’s no way to know for sure, but one of those two options is way more likely than the other. Take from it what you will.

So what we wind up with upon further inspection is a couple offhanded comments and a questionable interview with Simon’s bestie. All of it was unnecessary, I agree, and that raises the question, why is Liam talking about Zayn so much after 2 years of near radio silence? His team is obviously on board with this bizarre strategy, but why? I don’t know the specifics of why Liam’s team is continuing to associate Zayn and Liam, but I have a couple ideas. Perhaps it’s to perpetuate the idea that Liam is completely free of 1D. We could be led to believe that Liam was not allowed to discuss Zayn while in 1D, but now he is. This idea is limited by the elevator clip I mentioned early though. Why else would he randomly change his stance on one of the most controversial situations involving his best friend of 5 years? Perhaps in the future there will be a public reconciliation in which Zayn and Liam have a heart-to-heart, and that leads to an OT5 reunion. Who knows? But from what I do know about Liam, suddenly bashing Zayn after all they shared together is extremely out of character, and something that I refuse to take at face value.

I hope that this helps you understand how I worked through my feelings towards this unfortunate round of promo. I personally don’t see Liam apologizing for any of the above instances because none of them were truly meant to hurt Zayn. I think they were meant to reassociate Zayn and Liam in the press, but it was poorly planned and the attempts at humor fell flat. In my mind, there is no bigger Ztan than Liam himself, and I completely understand why this has thrown a lot of people for a loop. Here’s hoping for a better round of promo in the coming month.

If anyone wants to continue this discussion, feel free to shoot me an ask or message me! I may take a bit to respond but I will answer eventually!

[elecman108]

So like earlier today I was in Best Buy, as one does sometimes do when they’re looking for electronics or DVDs or something.

I was in search for headphones. My earlier earbuds broke (they were bought at the dollar store, surprisingly lasting me well over a year and a half, bless Philips and their shitty-ass earbuds), and my backup headphones are... not the best. I bought them at a convention for fun, and well, they’re falling apart to say the least. So I was on the search for new headphones, and my parents were helping my grandma look for the printer she wants.

I couldn’t find any good headphones I liked in the headphones section. Also, there was a lady who looked about my age with two kids and... I really don’t wanna deal with kids if I don’t have to. Seriously. I’m so uncoordinated that I’ll just trip over them. SO! So I gave up on that venture and wandered over to the printers.

Now, the Printers are nearby the PC/Tablet accessories, as well as a display of Chrome Books in this location. I snarked at the Chrome Books (I don’t like them, I have a personal vendetta against my High School’s Chrome Books because they sucked, so I make jokes at them on how they suck when no one’s looking) and then I got distracted by some bright ass blue LED lights on a display. Or under one.

It was a fancy little setup for gaming headsets! Which are fucking expensive! Give me a thirty dollar headset with a microphone any day that might suck ass and die in four months. But I don’t have a hundred dollars to blow away on a big old gaming headset. I also have a Laptop. So PC gaming is limited to what doesn’t crash or lag too bad on my computer. Trust me, I played XCOM 2 with about 3FPS, so the bar’s real low over here.

Regardless, I was now looking at the gaming headsets idly, kind of drifting up and down the gaming accessories. Gaming mice are the same as normal mice, except they have glowy LEDs in them. Don’t like that. Same thing with the keyboards, save for maybe a couple fancy-ass designs on like the arrow keys or something. But then, to my surprise, I found something in the gaming accessories that I actually needed.

And that, dear friends, was a Game Controller for PC.

Now I play a fair bit of Dead Cells. I bought it just after Christmas, beat the game early-ish January, set it aside for class for a week or so, and got back to it later and... sucked. You know, I suck at a lot of games. But I’m consistantly able to wind my way in the game through the various areas - prison, promenade, that... orange area I forget the name of, stilt village, clock tower, and high peak. I normally die around Time Keeper, High Peak, or Hand of the King. So not too terribly, if I say so myself.

But if anyone plays Dead Cells on the PC, they probably know my annoyance. You know when you go to throw an ability out, like a barnacle or the crossb-o-wmatic and you just... miss? Hit the W instead of the E or Q? Yeah. Also the title screen says “Dead Cells is best with a Controller!” so like, I knew that much off the bat. I tried to get my Gamecube controller hooked up with my GCN controller adapter as I did when playing GCN games off Dolphin (I wanted to play Luigi’s Mansion on the go, okay?) and needless to say... not like it didn’t work, but it doesn’t work with Dead Cells.

I’m standing staring at this game controller going “Dude, it’s 34.99$. I got just under 30$ in my purse. I’ll either have to come back for it or mooch off my dad like ten bucks or so to get it.” But! I don’t buy anything electronic unless I know the specs. And this bitch of a controller didn’t say shit, it just had a QR code. And I didn’t have the wifi to follow the link with my iPod.

I scribbled the name of the controller down in my notes or whatever, and moved on with the day. Went to this, and that, helped my grandma bring a new printer in, and sat down to play some Dead Cells. And then I saw that big fancy text on the title screen. “Dead Cells is better with a controller!”. Like hell it was, I didn’t know shit about the controller. So I closed the game, rolled into Google Chrome, and looked it up. Specs were all there on the company’s site. Works with Steam! Look at that sleek design! A blessed controller from the heavens! Kinda looks like an Xbox one but who can be mad, it ain’t Xbox! Also, the link from the QR code didn’t work, so I deadass said “Logitech, eat my ass”. Out loud. In my house. No one heard me though.

Disappointing.

So... Now I want this controller. It’s pretty good, has good specs, a good life to it, and now I’m just sitting here.

Staring.

At the open tab for the controller.

Thinking to myself “man, I want this controller.”

But if I wanna get it today, I gotta go all the way to ANCASTER to do it.

I have no idea if Best Buy has it elsewhere at other locations. I’ve been annoyed about it before with other stores, why would this be any different?

It doesn’t help that, for the entire time I’ve been staring longingly at a digital image of a controller I don’t even have enough money for yet that I’ve been listening to the Dead Cells soundtrack.

TL;DR: I want to go to Best Buy for a gaming controller, but I’m tired. Also it’s cold. And also now when I think of Dead Cells I think of this stupid thirty-dollar gaming controller that I don’t have but want for playing mostly just dead cells.

...Maybe Bioshock too. I think that supports a controller. And when I busted my old computer, I lost all my save data and have to beat the first game all over again.

Eh, I’ll worry about it later.

[ottersight12]

REINCARNATION BASED DREAM (#1): “THE ASIAN SUICIDE” - Possible Year Implied // Between 1975-1978

 ATTENTION: Before reading on, I must note two different things for you.

1. This is a dream I have had multiple times throughout my life since early childhood, starting around age 6. I have had this dream 8 different times since then, and am 26 1/2 years old as of the time of typing here.

I originally felt uncomfortable with ever sharing this in particular, or any other graphic dream, but have decided to start sharing them for possible study of representation, discussion, and am open to the idea of reincarnation, though I am a non-religious person. The last statement pertaining to the fact that some cultures believe in reincarnation and apply it to their religious and/or spiritual adventures and heritage.

It is NOT a dream that represents a goal, but IS a dream I have had while sleeping.

2. There is content in the description of the dream that may be bothersome, or considered “explicit” by some readers. If you are easily distraught by thoughts of gruesome events/actions that include fecal matter, living conditions and/or blood, you probably shouldn’t go on with this.

***DREAM DESCRIPTION STARTS HERE:

 -  An Asian man is walking down a narrow alleyway, falling upon him is a light drizzle. He carries with him two small bags.  In one, you can see the neck of a cheap bottle of Bourbon sticking out of the top.  In the other, I cannot tell, yet I assume it contains a few basic items in which you can find at just about  any “miscellaneous” section of a gas station.  You know the area: condoms, combs, Tylenol, playing cards, travel sized cans of shaving cream, ect. Things that you “need”, but forget at the store on most occasions and realize you don't have when you get home from the actual store.

 He walks up a small flight of rusty steps that go up the side of a worn down brick building that has seen better days. The typical set-up you would see in a video based in a poor area of some Asian town in a “It's the character that counts” influence to influence people to do good things, eventual causing a chain of events to build a better community. So, obviously, this man was in poor economic status, like most of us, even though we attempt to boost our mindset by saying Lower-Middle Class.

He slowly opened a door that had no lock and had a creak to it about 40% into it being open.  Nothing to loud, but noticeable.  

*At this point, only for a moment, I am looking through his eyes.*

  He is now in what appears to be the living room of this apartment. There are roughly 12-15 compact, yet separate spots on the floor, each belonging to a different person, in which it was obvious that they slept.  On this night, most are empty. In some fashion, I gained the information that none of the people who resided here were related, or actually friends, though there was no sign of strife. There was an energy of respect and understanding that, though no-one enjoyed the living situation particularly, each person's space was their own, and as long as we didn't mess with another's area, there wouldn't be any real issues.

There were a few different set-ups in regards of what people had to sleep with.

Here are the styles:

1. Single sleeping bag. No pillow. Dime store book. (two spots this similar set-up, though only one had a cheap book)

2. two blankets. No pillow.

3. two blankets. One pillow.

4. one blanket. One pillow.

5. one pillow. Dime store book. Cheap rice wine, half full.

6. two thin foam pads, like found in sleeping bag. The bottom half of the top pad torn off and used as pillow. Ash tray made from small piece of foil in boil form. Half a joint (honestly, I was surprised nobody had stolen it yet).

 All the other spots in the living room were a mix and match based around this scenery. Basically, if a homeless camp was  setup in an abandoned building instead of being reported, or on the streets with tarps, like you would see in downtown L.A., this would be what it looked like. Somewhere between that and an overcrowded jail, though, in this living position of economic class, it feels more like a prison.

 The man, in which I am connected to through this dream, walks past a small closet sized room, that, in America, would be considered a “Half-Bath” in a Town Home.  Three people are in there.  Two are by the sink, washing their face and brushing what teeth they have left due to our access to Dental Care, even halfway decent, being so shitty.  The other is standing under a makeshift shower that was made out of used Gallon sized water jug filled with dirty water had probably been filled with what had come out of the old A/C unit that sits in the one window of the apartment, that resides by the door in which I entered.  For all I know, the water might have come from a drained sink at someone's work. You never know around here where our resources come from half the time. You just try and take advantage of them when around.

  The person in the shower was standing in a plastic bucket for the water (atleast some of it) to fall into.  Instead of having tiny holes in the bottom of the jug, as you would see on an actual shower head, there was a piece of hose, roughly 2 feet long, which had one end sticking in a single hole in the bottom, with Duct Tape wrapped around the connected section, like a Tornado, going flat on top in attempt to not have much water leak out.  This person put one end of the hose between their ass cheeks, rubbing the insides of them with their hand to wash out the crusty shit that had begun caking itself there.

  I then walked into an area that appeared to be the kitchen. It was small as hell.

 There were exactly two areas portioned off in the kitchen that were designed for people to sleep and live when they weren't away.  One spot was in location of where you would usually consider putting a small dining room table.  I say amll due to the fact that, if two people wanted to eat in here, the table you would put there would have had to only be big enough for minimal “Have-to's”.

My spot was not located in the typical table spot, but elsewhere.

It was a 4 ½ ft. x 3 ft. spot, between the Fridge and a wall.  The 4 ½ ft. length was from the back wall, where the hookup for the fridge would be, and almost to the wall on the opposite side. The 3 ft. width was from the side wall and the side of the fridge.

 On the side of the fridge, on the opposite end of the 4 ft. section, there was a wooden post that had been nailed into the floor.  Going down the side from the fridge, and one the complete end, there were cardboard boxes all Duct Taped together, including to the post, acting as walls.  The only exception to there being complete walls of cardboard, was a 1 ½ ft x 1 ½ ft. space, in which my Asian counterpart could crawl through to get into his space.

He got down on his knees, put his bags through the hole, far enough out of the way as to not be a bother while crawling in, in which he did shortly after.  Inside of his space, there were the following items in setup:

1. one white and blue striped pillow, like the $3 kind you can get at Walmart. This pillow had obviously not been cleaned since originally purchased.

2. a thin, 3-layer foam pad, similar to what a few other residents had. The foam you would find in a cheap sleeping bag.

3. one hospital blanket.

4. one basic a.m./f.m. alarm clock radio. The kind you can find roughly 20-30 of at any given time at any American thrift store.

5. three empty cheap rice wine bottles that had filled with piss and having had the corks replaced, as to not smell horribly.

The man sat down on the padding and pulled out the bottle of Bourbon, setting it off to the side beside his tiny radio, which is to his right.

I must mention now that we are no longer seeing things through his vision, but as if sitting in front of him, so though the radio and Bourbon are now to his right, it is seen to our left.

     Out of the other bag, he pulled out a single razor-blade. It wasn't in a plastic or metal handle, as for shaving. Just a single metal razor-blade in a paper and plastic package, alone.  Double-sided. He set it on the other side of the tiny radio than the Bourbon.  

  He leaned back, resting his upper back and his head against the back wall. Grabbing his half-gallon of Bourbon, he brought the head over to his mouth, twisted of the cap with his teeth, and spit it off to his right, having it land roughly 3 inches away from his radio, having bounced off the cardboard wall before having landed there. The mouth of the bottle re-entered his, pouring half the bottle Golden-Brown elixer down his desperate throat.

 After momentarily French kissing the rim of the bottle, he pulls it out.

 He sat there for a short period of time, maybe thirty seconds of his time, which was probably atleast 30-45 minutes of “Real World” time.

 Then, in his native tongue, he said, “It's time”.

 (Somehow, our minds were connected fully at this point, so I was able to understand)

  He looked at the veins in his hands. They had started expanding from the relaxed blood flow, influenced by the alcohol.  He felt his temples, the blood was certainly pumping. He looked at his wrists. Nice, thick, blue rivers were pushing against the skin.  “Beautifal”, was the only word whispered from his thin lips.  He downed the rest of the Bourbon, turned on the radio to a Classical music station that had been pre-chosen earlier that day before heading out to the store.  He listened to a couple Concerto's to have a form of forgiveness and purity and soul for a little while. Meditation.

After this, his veins were truly pumping, even squirming slightly.

He held the wrist of his right arm against his forehead.

“Hot as Hell to a cool Spring of music”

   He grabbed the single, double-sided razor-blade from beside his tiny radio.

He applied it first to his left wrist, due to his right hand being being his dominant.

He then put the blade in his mouth, in-between his teeth with one side facing out.

That side was applied to his right wrist. Deep. His tongue was then pressed against the inside edge of the blade, slashing the artery.

 Teeth opened out of pain in mouth.  The blade fell to the ground.  His arms by his sides, wrists up.  The feeling was going numb in the upper half of his body.  There was momentary panic, then focus on the soft music still playing.

He stayed like that until slipping into complete un-conciousness, with a smirk of relief on his face.

- Caleb O. (Ottersight12)