#drawing the kids hanging out yippee ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reelybadfnafocs · 2 years ago

Photo

he's back! it's luke from three years ago! meaning his original concept was posted six (soon to be seven!) years ago... what a ride it has been! i was in elementary school when i made him, and now i've nearly finished my senior year. crazy how life moves without you noticing, hey?anyways, i'm here to just sort of place him down and see what happens. i don't expect anybody to remember him, but it's fun to see how he's progressed through the history of this blog, right?

First of all: YIPPEE WOOHOO I LOVE OLD OCS SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY!!!

Mod Bright here, and I wanna take a moment to say ohhhh my god I love tracking how your art style's changed and grown since you first submitted! I love the softer lines you seem to be using now, and your coloring style is…ugh absolutely gorgeous.

As for Luke's redesign, ohhhh I'm in love. Though I think the original designs were nothing bad (in fact, I'm still a little fond of the first design, it's got so much charm!) I do really enjoy how nice on the eyes the color palette is here.

I also enjoy how his antennae-thingies have returned to being right over where his ears would be! It's a good place for them. :)

(And his eyelashes…oouogougoguoguo pretty…)

I also like how, aside from the seams in his body, he seems like he could be mistaken for an everyday employee- I think that's a really fun take for his character concept!

alright, so his name is still luke. he is a humanoid masculine-presenting android located in an establishment known as cam and dolly's, a subsidiary of fun!pizza business. his primary role is that of a caretaker; he is stationed in an area of the main cam and dolly's location known as "luke's corner". he is unique to the main building, as other cam and dolly's chain locations lack his special area.

luke's main function is to provide a safe, calm space for people of all ages who may find themselves overwhelmed or upset by the other attractions. he can draw, tell stories, hold intelligent conversations, play (calmly) with toys, and assist with certain arcade machines.

I am sososo glad you kept this concept because I always thought it was very sweet, and definitely plausible for a FNAF fangame or FNAF-inspired story concept!

Not much to say here, since I've already sung my praises about this in my last review, haha. Him being one-of-a-kind, though, while often implied with characters similar to this, is a really nice touch. :)

luke was purchased from an auction by the owner of cam and dolly's two years before the founding of the actual chain itself, as one of approximately thirty androids salvaged from the rubble of an abandoned warehouse after a fire had destroyed it. his original creator is unknown, as all previous branding (nautilus robotics inc) has no existing record as a real company and the recorded owner of the warehouse had been found deceased in their home shortly after the incident. luke, despite the fire, was in relatively good condition and was easily repaired by the owner herself.

THIS IS KIND OF SICK AS HELL. I like this a lot! Super mysterious, explains well why this android is hanging around a kids pizza chain of all places, and has just enough intrigue to keep people guessing! …And enough that you don't have to have all the details ironed out right away, I'm guessing. :P

I like how you've put detail into the actual incident that happened, too! It's nice to have a little more detail to his backstory than last time. Fond of this funny robot :)

I would love to hear more detail in the future, maybe, about the owner and her history/experience...it'd be really interesting, especially, to hear about her skill level with mechanics/programming respectively and/or lack thereof, and how the repair process actually, like, went.

luke is an artificial intelligence and is far more advanced than he lets on, however he is not without his quirks and.. issues. while luke still has an issue in his code preventing him from properly recognizing after-hours staff, his logic and outside reminders will suffice to keep him acting 'normal'. while i've written his story without much of a legitimate gameplay loop in mind (he's definitely more of a story oc than a game oc at this point lol), i do have some ideas for him.

I'd love to hear some more elaboration on exactly how advanced he is and his actual personality (since "more than he lets on" does sort of imply a fun level of sapience) outside of his job! Some detail on his perspective in particular I feel could be really cool.And ohohohoho gameplay loop ideas…these are always fun, even if you don't get to use 'em! Let's see…

if we are working with a traditional fnaf five nights security guard office style, i figure he'd work something like this:

luke becomes active on the first night and remains active all week, increasing in difficulty and aggression as nights go on (of course).

due to a previous incident involving a nightguard at the establishment, luke insists on trying to come to your office to "supervise" you. if he enters the office during this phase, he will be an obstacle to your control panel/camera panel, as well as an auditory distraction as he talks — luring the sound-sensitive dolly to your office faster than normal.

you can send luke back to his corner via commands sent to the receiver on his head. he has to obey these commands, even if he doesn't want to, leaning in to a frustration/aggression mechanic.

This is a really fun concept and really fitting for what you've said about him thus far!

I like the inclusion of a mechanic to send him back to his corner, and having there be consequences for using this mechanic (maybe so you'd have to weigh the benefits of keeping him around for a little longer than you'd like while dealing with other threats?) sounds like it'd add a very fun layer of complexity to nights.

the more times you send luke back to his station, the more frustrated with you he will become, ticking his aggression up with each use. once his aggression surpasses a certain threshold, he will switch into a more hostile mode, becoming more persistent as well as capable of jumpscaring/killing the player instead of just being an obstacle. he will take multiple paths to the office in an attempt to evade your cameras and commands.

Ohohoho…very cool, I like! The commands still working as Luke is en route in hostile mode (presumably only when he's in view on the cameras?) is fun too, feels like a sort of riff on the audio lure mechanics we've seen in the main series and fangames! Very nice.

the best way to deal with luke is to let him get close to the office before sending him back — this minimizes the amount of times you have to use the commands, therefore avoiding triggering his 'hostile mode' for as long as possible.

Naturally. :P

i have no idea if that's good or even playable and i'm also very sorry for the novel of a submission. i just enjoy my funny little guy and think he's quite silly. thank you for reading and thank you for not deleting this blog so this small piece of my own oc history has remained preserved :,,) i hope you have been having as much fun as i have.

NOOOO THIS WAS FUN TO READ AND REVIEW!!! I enjoy your funny little guy also and I'm glad you've submitted him to the blog :) I am also very glad that the blog is still up…though I don't really agree with its original message and haven't for a long time, I think it's an important artifact of internet history, y'know? And, of course, of individual OC history. :P

As for the hypothetical game mechanics, I think Luke's got some interesting ones that are definitely workable for a game!

The thing I've found is that you can't really predict whether something like this'll be too much/unplayable unless you have the full picture of all the cast's mechanics together, and even then some game devs have had it worked out then figured out some overlooked synergy between antagonist characters that makes stuff impossible!

So…don't sweat it too much, unless sweating it is fun for you.

To conclude…Thank you for submitting, and thank you for sticking with us all this time. Luke is a character that was already genuinely solid in concept, and here I'm only seeing more detail and thought in your writing.

I'd love to see where you go from here, if you work on this group of OCs any more!

Good luck in the future! <3

-Mod Bright

#Review #submission #turn around bright eyes

4 notes · View notes

emptypaperbagg · 4 years ago

Text

an idea for an omori au

HI HI HI, sorry bUT HEAR ME OUT,, GHOST SUNNY AU. I’ve had so many little ideas for this popping up into my head lately, and I can no longer contain myself. I know that Omori is more psychological than paranormal, but I’m a sucker for ghost aus, sorry.

warning for spoilers and crack

Events take place after sometime after the Bad Ending of the game.

Sunny is still in Faraway for some reason, and he can’t figure out as to why. No one can see him or talk to him, and he can’t touch the world around him. Things in Faraway continue to go by, but Sunny doesn’t. He’s still here.

His friends aren’t here, nor is Mari.

He eventually settles with watching what everyone has been doing. After all, it seems it’s the only thing he can do.

They all appear to be sadder than before. Tired even. But they all continue on with their everyday lives.

He finds that Aubrey has been continuing to hang out with the Hooligans. Sometimes Kel would join them, but he’s usually playing basketball with some other kids. Hero left to go back to college some time ago. Basil’s staring at him.

At first, he thought that Basil was just staring at something behind him, but no. He’s staring right at him. Terrified.

Sunny opens his mouth to say something, but Basil let’s out a small sound between a screech and a scream. Then, the blond turns away, mumbling about something along the lines of this is all your imagination and you’re seeing a therapist for this kind of thing. When he turns around, Sunny is still there.

So now he’s more terrified. That’s great.

There are many different ways to execute this part, but eventually they both figure out that Sunny’s a ghost and Basil is apparently the only one who can see him.

So then they spend time together, I guess, mending the friendship that they had long ago.

This part is important, I feel, because Sunny eventually becomes friends with the other’s again and was able to connect with them in a way during the game, but when it came to Basil, it wasn’t really all that great. Yes, Sunny saves him, but they didn’t really have that moment where they connect again.

Eventually, Basil starts asking him questions. “How are you here?”, “Why are you still here?”, and “Why did you do it?”

He doesn’t have answers.

Story progresses, Sunny tries to help Basil talk to the other’s again and bring everyone back together. They succeed. Everyone gets like +5 happiness. Yippee.

But Sunny is still there. He’s not supposed to be here. The two of them realize that Sunny has been here for a reason. -5 happiness.

The Truth. The truth needs to get out, and only Basil can tell them.

But Basil doesn’t want to tell them. He can’t. He knew that it was selfish, but he was afraid of their reaction, what they’d think. Would they think any worse of them? Things had already starting to look better for everyone. Most importantly, he didn’t want to lose Sunny. Not again. It’s the right thing to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

So beep boop, some drama here and there, dump in some angst, mix until fully combined, snack on the excess if you want, and vualá, you have an excellent meal.

It takes a lot of time for Basil to come into terms with this again, of course, but he eventually agrees.

He does the opposite of whatever Rick Astley told us and says goodbye, but more dramatic.

Truth get’s told aaAAAND THEN Basil get’s the shit beaten out of him the rest of them go through what the other fanfics do post good ending mINUS SUNNY and the hospital.

Then they live happily even after. Probably.

Feel free to flesh out this idea or change things, I know I don’t have the brain to do so. My apologies for the crack as well, I’m tired. I’ve contemplated over whether or not I’ll write something more serious and organized for this or maybe draw out some of it, but I thought nah and wrote this instead.

#tw suidice #omori spoilers #omori #omori au #im forgetting something #uuuuuuhhh

16 notes · View notes

skinks · 5 years ago

Note

richie, instantly getting a boner at the sight of ‘drunk with something to prove cowboy’ eddie: who thinks i can get us kicked out in under 5 minutes for being much more horny and gay than allowed in this public bar???

Eddie unbuttons his shirt to the bandit crest of his scar, whips his boring tie in a boleadoras attack at Richie’s head, and Richie’s legs actually give out.

He slumps hobbled against the bullpen fence groaning helpless and salt-cracked. He’s glad the bar is bouncing between dark and rainbow beer-sign neon, and that the bullpen is hiding where he’s hot and stiffening. Eddie’s acting like an idiotic man twenty years his junior, leather-chaps gap between his thighs as he jumps around like a loon. That’s mirage-talk though, dangerous to reach for something Richie never saw and never will—as if Eddie at twenty was ever sleek and wild as this pitching bronco demon with a horseshoe hole in his chest. Richie’s mouth won’t close. His head is a mushroom cloud of Midwest alcohol, but even still. Jesus, his cock is filling out ripe with blood in public with his reclaimed posse of compadres, like he’s sixteen again in gym class or the quarry or the slimy woods, when the tendons carving desert-golden riverbeds down the backs of Eddie’s knees to brace his downy calves formed divots Richie ached to slide his tongue into.

He presses his hips against the fake-wood PVC fence, traps his hard dick there and wants, wants, bandsaws his tight jaw back and forth—hopes. Hopes like an adult hopes, that his fate might not rest in the hands of unknowable hormonal misfires but in the persuasive properties of his own rattlesnake tongue, in the dark corner of a bar in Hemingford Home, Nebraska. Eddie knows about his cowboy thing, he must be doing this on purpose. What other explanation for the way he’s tipping an invisible Stetson right at Richie with a high-noon grin, his whole stripling, rawhide body undulating from sensible boots to narrow shoulders like the whipping wave of a lasso, what the fuck. Where did Eddie “sits in his Chrysler then at a desk for eight hours then his Chrysler again then his couch watching HGTV all evening” Kaspbrak, Richie’s bureaucratic best friend, acquire core strength like that?

Firm ass curves, the bull rears thunderous, Eddie rides it like a cloud. Like it’s nothing. Like he does this all the time. Neon catches shadows in the creases of his slacks around his thighs, his groin. Does he — the way he keeps glancing back like he’s checking on his audience, would he work himself like that til he comes naked on Richie’s secret raging hardon later tonight if Richie begged, no hands and cocky and swiping his pelvis forward and back like a slingshot? Tame me. Shoot me. Break me to ride. Shrike my body to your cactus spike. Wrench the metal bit back against my gums with unforgiving reins wrapped around your knuckles. Kick the spurs of your bony Maine ankles into my fleshy sides while I rage inside you, and draw my blood, please, please, please, I want your gold rush. The crushing prairie heat of the bar sucks sweat from his hairline. Breezy whines roll from Richie’s chest like tumbleweed. Bill pats his back in sympathy and something that feels like good luck, pardner, nice knowing you.

The music plucks and twangs and coils and croons and strangers are screaming for Eddie Kaspbrak, reluctant risk analyst, enthusiastic monster-killer. Kid who giggled at Richie’s upside-down bunk-bed antics, but only Richie Tozier knows that. Richie’s shoulders go weak watching him arch his sunbleached canines in a grin above his ever-evil tongue, licking cornbread honeyglaze sweet from his lip, watching Richie back as he trips the bull’s spine like the rodeo ringmaster. Bev and Patty and Audra are all whooping their heads off while Mike and Ben are busy slotting more coins in the thing to keep it bucking. But Eddie dismounts gracefully to worldwide consternation, swaggers forward all John Wayne by way of Amazon jaguar, like he really has been clenching his juicy little thighs around a mustang for the last six months on the high Sierra trail in his gray-wool slacks. Richie’s dully shocked he didn’t do a somersault, panting grateful he didn’t; saved the undertaker nailing up another wooden box.

Nebraskans are tossing one dollar notes into the ring for an encore, and Richie’s cock is hanging thick between his legs for a riding. Fake PVC wood creaks in his fists as Eddie grabs him by the bolo tie he wore special for the occasion, tugs him down into a greasy onion-batter kiss, their first kiss, yippee-ki-yay, hi-ho silver, I’d give you my heart for a fistful of dollars, my soul for a few dollars more. Richie pushes Eddie’s sweating mouth open with his mouth and Eddie is scrambling over the fence with none of his previous grace, grabbing overflowing tousles into Richie’s dust-devil hair. Stanley is firing handfuls of beer nuts their way like it’s a shotgun wedding already, which it might as well be, given how Richie’s bending Eddie back into the bullpen fence and gasping thank you, Eds, oh thank god, fucking yeehaw, Eddie, holy shit, will you do me like you did that bull, I still love you, I’m sorry but I do, into this never-ending kiss and how Eddie’s licking the salt from his wounds and laughing I know, god, finally, I love your weird cowboy fetish, Rich, I love you, why the fuck else would I do that, and steel-guitar waltzes a slow romance with a fiddle as the bull slows and they all nine of them stumble out through the wafting bald-eagle wings of a saloon door and into the dark, hot, cold, together, alive, and star-spangled

#im still drunk and listening to my dick riding playlist sorry #ficlet

171 notes · View notes

dammit-stark · 4 years ago

Note

i am OBSESSED with royalty aus

fun fact: red, white & royal blue by Casey mcquiston is actually my favorite book (tied with Emma by Jane Austen, obviously) but anyway this was heavily inspired by the plot of that book so I hope you like it! - p.s this turned out to be like 1.8k words soooooo here it exists now okay

DROP YOUR FAV AU IN MY ASK BOX (OR JUST ANY IDEA IDC) AND ILL WRITE IT FOR YOU :)

...

“We’re supposed to hate each other,” Tony insists, head hanging off the side of his bed, his feet cushioned in the onslaught of pillows by the head board. Nat sits criss-cross applesauce in his peripheral vision, flipping through a magazine, “It’s not my fault he’s a pompous ass and we’re star-crossed nemeses.”

Nat stops flipping to look at him under an arched eyebrow, “Star-crossed, Tony? Really?”

“Oh, shush, you know what I am. We’re total opposites. My dad got elected by the people into the greatest country in the world, and he was born into the crappy inbred monarchy whose ass we beat centuries ago.”

Nat doesn’t look up from her magazine this time, “Didn’t your dad fund his campaign with the millions of dollars he got from his inheritance?”

Tony pauses. In the silence, he can hear the blood rushing to his head. He chooses to ignore Nat’s logic, “I really don’t think that’s relevant here.”

Nat gets to the last page and the flimsy pages clap noisily together. She points an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t care if you think he’s the Loch Ness monster, it’s a royal wedding and you’re the first son of the United States. You’re gonna have to suck it up and be on your best behavior.”

“Oh, no, Nat,” Tony coos sardonically, still hanging upside down, “Are you afraid I’m gonna embarrass you?”

With a complete straight face, she throws her magazine at him, and stands so she’s towering above him. He has to stretch his neck to look at her.

“Yes, she says. I absolutely am. Now, what do you want on your pizza? I’m hungry.”

As it turns out, Tony isn’t humanly capable of staying on his best behavior at the royal wedding. He definitely embarrasses Nat, and maybe, sorta, totally causes an international incident in the process.

“It’s not my fault,” He tells Nat on the jet back to the States, still hanging somewhere in the precarious limbo between disastrously drunk and world-endings hungover, “He started it.”

Nat just glares at him, “I was standing right there, Tony. I watched you push him first.”

“I-“ There’s not much point in arguing, “Yeah. Dad’s gonna be pissed, isn’t he?”

Nat sighs, a long, never-ending sigh that makes her sound decades older than she actually is. Tony has that effect on people.

“Don’t worry about your dad, Tony,” She tells him. This time, she’s flipping through a classified file folder instead of a dime-a-dozen tabloid edition, “We’re gonna fix your mess, as per usual.”

Tony can feel the hangover rearing it’s head over the drunkenness, and he sinks into his chair, eyes closing, “You’re the best, Nat. Thanks.”

Nat rolls her eyes as Tony falls asleep, “Yeah,” She murmurs under her breath to herself, “Damn right I am. Dumbass.”

It turns out that Nat’s solution to Tony’s antagonistic little international incident is to make it seem like the whole The-First-Son-Just-Pushed-A-Beloved-Prince-Into-His-Brother’s-Wedding-Cake thing seem more like a frat boy-esque ribbing gone bad. Tony hates the plan, and he tells Nat as such.

“This is a horrible plan. It’s not gonna work, and it means I have to spend an entire weekend with Prince Pissy Pants.”

They’re on the private plane again, flying back to England to fix Tony’s mess.

Nat rolls her eyes, and punches him in the shoulder, “Get over yourself, Stark. If you don’t want to hang out with your so-called nemesis, then stop getting drunk and pushing people into wedding cakes. This is your own fault. We’re fixing your problem for you. Get over it.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but otherwise consents, “Whatever.”

Nat passes him a file folder.

“What’s this?”

“The Prince’s interests. Study it. Learn it like it’s the back of your hand, and then study it even more. If you get caught in a lie, Stark, you’re beyond dead.”

He gets two lines in before he tears narrowed eyes away from the paper to suspiciously meet Nat’s expression, “Did he get one of these about me?”

“Yep.”

“What was in it?”

“Your interests, Stark.”

Tony does not envy whoever got assigned that task. He wonders how accurate it’ll be. He obediently reads through the Prince’s interests among an uncharacteristic silence. Nat almost thinks he’s grown up until he breaks said silence with a snort.

“His favorite book is Great Expectations? Nerd.”

When they land, Tony remembers why he pushed the prince in the first place. Yeah, the alcohol did half the work for him, but- something about the Prince’s stupidly perfect, absurdly handsome face just makes Tony want to start shoving people into cakes. Surely other people have the same urge.

“Mr Stark,” The Prince says as greeting. He doesn’t even offer a hand for Tony to shake, just smiles with his hands folded together, “It’s a shame these are the circumstances that you-“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re very polite, I get it. Prince Steve here to save the day with his antiquated, impeccable manners. Yippee-kiy-yai.”

Tony counts it as a win that he sees a flicker in that smile, but it crests back to sparkly perfection with a blink of the eye. There are cameras. Tony sees Nat out of the corner of his eye, glaring beside a distinct row of security, somehow looking the most intimidating of all of them. He smiles back, pasted and ridiculous and spiteful, his whole body tensed and relaxed at the same time.

He smiles winningly for the cameras.

Later, at the hospital, Tony wonders how Mr Prince Perfect can put on such a facade, even with sick kids. Because that’s obviously what this is. He watches from across the room as Prince Steven kneels beside a sick kid’s bedside, smiling kindly, and talking to the little girl with her baby yoda doll tucked into the crook of her arm.

It’s not until Tony has completely committed to his eavesdropping that he realizes there aren’t any cameras around to capture Steve’s amiability. That’s the first moment Tony thinks oh, maybe this guy isn’t as fake as I thought he was.

“You totally wouldn’t be Han Solo,” Tony interrupts because he’s totally an asshole and he knows it (that’s the different between Tony and Prince Stick-Up-Butt, he at least owns his assholery), “You’re a textbook Luke Skywalker if I ever met one, Prince.”

Steve’s responding grin is surprisingly left-leaning, and the kid in the hospital bed is giggling.

“Are you gonna try to tell me that you’re a Han Solo then?”

“Actually, I-“

“Because you’re not,” Steve’s totally serious except a slight twinkle in his eye, one forefinger tapping against his own knee as the little girl sits enraptured by the ridiculous conversation occurring just above her, “You’re Anakin through and through. Not in a bad way, just-“

Tony doesn’t mean to come off as truly surprised as he really does, but the way he shuts his mouth immediately gives him away, “No,” He says, “You’re right.”

Steve’s lips punch off at the corners in an amused, vaguely self-satisfied way that makes Tony want to soberly push him into another cake so expensive you need to take out a mortgage to eat a slice. Before Tony can needle him back, the prince is smiling back at the kid, a gentle hand on her arm. Huh.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Wendy. Thanks for talking about Star Wars with us.”

And like the smug bastard he is, Steve gracefully stands from her bedside and leaves the room. Oh no he won’t. Tony follows, angrily.

That’s how they end up in a near-empty hospital hallway together. And subsequently, it’s also how they’re pushed into the closest nearby maintenance closet by the nearest secret service operative, tripping over themselves and invisible equipment alike as they’re safely hidden away. It’s also how they end up on the floor, joints every which way, elbows menacing and in all the wrong places as they cajole violently among the brooms and buckets.

“Your elbow-“ Tony grunts, “Is in my side, Steve.”

“Yes, well, my elbow wouldn’t be in your side if your elbow wasn't in my shoulder.”

“Get your shoulder out of my elbow!”

“Why do you hate me?” Steve cuts him off, a hiss in his voice. Ooh, Mr Perfect Prince can actually get angry. Exciting.

Tony takes a deep breath. Or- as deep of a breath as he can take without drawing attention to their tight little maintenance closet/hideout.

“You’re not real. You’re fake. Everything you do has been trained into you, it’s annoying.”

“I feel pretty real to me, Stark.”

“You just- it’s a persona. You’re a persona. And the whole world blindly loves you for it.”

In the dark, Tony chews on his bottom lip- a chronic bad habit of his.

When Steve responds, his voice is low, even lower than it necessarily needs to be to keep attention away from their location. He can’t tell in the dark, but Tony thinks his head might be bowed. He can practically hear the thoughts in the prince’s head. But then again, they’re physically close enough, practically spooning ridiculously on the ground, he might as well tap directly into Steve’s mind they’re so close together.

“Do you think I want to be a persona, Tony? Do you think I did this to myself? I’m still me, I’m just- guarded. It’s not up to me. There’s a lot more to the world than my place in it.”

Tony’s quiet. It’s a much more real answer than he’d expected. He’d half expected the prince to spit on him or something, dig his elbow extra far into Tony’s side or something. Instead he gets this vulnerable little morsels of honesty, and Tony has nothing to say.

“I-“

Tony’s cut off by blinding light. Nat whips the door open.

“Ew, what are you guys doing on the ground? Why are you spooning?”

Steve hurried to his feet, cheeks visibly red, “The threat?” He demands, and Tony’s surprised Nat doesn’t demand a full sentence like she usually does, the cocky bastard. She nods succinctly.

“A false alarm. However, we’ve deemed it safest to move onto the next event.”

“Great, thanks,” The Prince says, and moves off down the hall, disappearing behind twin EXIT doors.

Tony’s still on the ground when Nat swivels back to look at him, a smug smile on her face.

“You hate each other, huh? Is that what you’re calling it nowadays?”

Tony rolls his eyes, “Oh, shut up, asshole, and help me.”

But he hadn’t had to tell himself deflect, deflect, deflect, and he’s pretty sure something about being stuck in a children’s hospital maintenance closet changed his feelings on the guy. Something about it.

As Tony walks to his next event, he has to push to keep the prince out of his idle mind.

When he departs for the United States hours later, Tony leaves the prince with his phone numbers.

“To corroborate our stories or whatever,” He tells Prince Steven, though he’s sure Nat isn’t convinced, “So we don’t have to keep going between these losers.”

Prince Steven accepts the offering with a smile, and Tony gets on the plane, leaving Britain behind him one last time.

#royalty au #drabble #stevetony #rwarb au #I hope this makes sense even if you haven’t read the book #I’ve been meaning to write this for 6+ months so it was awesome to finally do it heh

8 notes · View notes

verybisexualwriter · 6 years ago

Text

A Hogwarts Love Story

Everett Jobs was wise beyond his years. Anyone who took the time to get to know him would've realised it. But he was a quiet kid who kept to himself, and he was a muggle born. Early on in his fourth year he was reading quietly in the courtyard when four Slytherin boys walked up to him, one of them snatching his book. “Whatcha readin’ mudblood?” One teased.

“Is it any of your business, you bigoted arsehole?” Everett replied, blue eyes narrowed. He stood, revealing his full six feet of height.

The first Slytherin smirked at his companions. “You boys hear what this mudblood called me?”

The Slytherins laughed, slowly reaching for their wands. But Everett drew faster, cursing all five in one smooth motion. They all ran off, trousers and robes flaming. “Yippee ki yay, mother fucker,” he chuckled to himself as he picked his book up off the cobblestone. His eyes suddenly met a pair of brilliant amber ones.

Jasper Kip, a Hufflepuff in Everett's year. “I can't believe you just did that.”

A soft blush rose in Everett's cheeks. “You saw all that? It was nothing. I'm used to it, do it back on the farm once a week.”

"That statement raises an absurd amount of questions" Jasper said.

"Well, ask them then" Everett said, having received the exact reaction he hoped for.

"Ok... the farm?" Jasper asked.

"My folks own a farm up north, that's what I was supposed to do if I were a muggle."

"No, reason you can't do both" Jasper said a little awkwardly, "so why do you set fire to Slytherins on your farm?”

Everett laughed, “No, I mean the sass. The muggles back home aren't exactly kind to me.”

Jasper bit his bottom lip for just a moment "I think we'll get along.”

Everett's cheeks went pink once again. "What makes you say that?"

“I'm going into Hogsmeade tomorrow,” Jasper said, ignoring the question, “do you want to join me?”

The next day was the first of many afternoons in Hogsmeade, which they spent drinking butterbeer and buying Pepper Imps, which was their shared favorite candy. They talked over books in the library when they had free time in school, and Everett went to every one of Jasper's quidditch games. Jasper moved expertly on that broom, but Everett got anxious if he went near one.

That is until one evening, after a stroll through Hogsmeade during a sensible meal in the great hall Everett was startled by the sudden sensation of hands on his shoulders. Everett whipped around while drawing his wand, ready to make some Slytherins wish they were never born, only to see those brilliant amber eyes staring back at him.

"Fuck, Jas,” you scared the shit out of me!"

Jasper looked sorry for a second but shook off his concerned expression quickly.

"I have a surprise for you,” he said excitedly.

Jasper lead Everett to the locker rooms, behind the quidditch pitch. They walked into the unlit mens lockers as the sun set.

"You're not gonna murder me are you?” Everett said.

"Fuck off, and be excited,”

"That didn't sound like a no, I'm not going to keep following you if you don't say no.”

"No.”

Jasper tapped his wand to the door of his locker and it swung open revealing a long package wrapped in brown paper and Jasper's Cleansweep 8. "My dad just sent this after our big win against gryffindor on Saturday, but I've known about it for a while now,” he said, grabbing the package, it was obvious what it was. Everett was excited for Jasper, knowing that his cleansweep was past its prime.

The two pulled back the paper revealing a Nimbus 2001, Everett watched Jasper's eyes widen as he excitedly stroked the broom, feeling its bristles and its polished handle in his hands. Everett didn't understand the world of quidditch, but he understood the look on Jasper's face as he held this broom in his hands.

Jasper blinked ind shook his head "But anyway," he said "This isn't your surprise."

Everett looked up at Jasper, suddenly aware of how close they were standing, and started to ask him to explain himself but Jasper cut him off. He whipped back around to the locker and grabbed the cleansweep which now looked raggedy and worn in comparison. "This is,”he said.

"Jas, thanks, that's so nice of you, I'll, erm, hang it on my wall" Everett thought about how it would feel to fall asleep with Jas’ broom above his head.

“Everett? Mate, you're not going to hang it on your wall, at least not now, we're going to ride them," Jasper held up his Nimbus and strode out the door towards the quidditch pitch.

When Everett's legs decided to move again he jogged up beside him "Jas, I know you mean well-”

Jasper slammed the doors open confidently and Everett forgot what he was going to say. Jasper turned around and smiled widely at Everett "You ready?" He asked.

"No,” said Everett.

"Great, let's go.”

They stepped out onto the soggy grass, water soaking through their socks. Everett performed a simple charm to waterproof his and Jasper's shoes.

Jasper mounted his broom, "Well get on then!"

Everett awkwardly stepped over the tail of his broom and held the end tightly with both hands.

Jasper stepped toward him and began to adjust his grip murmuring advice about foot position and broom angle. When he was satisfied with the results he called, "Ok, kick off!" and kicked off into the air on his own broom. Everett, though thoroughly terrified did not fail to take a moment to enjoy the look of bliss on Jaspers face as he rode his new broom for the first time. Though, he was also painfully aware that he was supposed to have kicked off at this point but his body simply refused to leave the ground.

Jasper came down to the ground after rising about ten feet in the air. It was difficult not to notice the obvious terror on Everett's pale face.

"Ok," he said "We'll get through this.”

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child!" Said Everett, he meant it as a joke but it came out sounding defensive and mean.

"Oh..." said Jasper, unsure of how to respond to that.

"Sorry...just nervous I think."

Jasper's shoulders relaxed slightly and he positioned himself close beside Everett. Everett's shoulders tensed but he felt safer about flying with Jasper right nearby. Nothing could happen to him if Jasper was flying within inches. "Ok, we'll take off on the count of three" Jasper said.

"One.”

"Two,” Everett whimpered.

"Three,” Jasper hollered and they both kicked off the ground. Jasper's broom rose smoothly about.

Everett's bucked up unevenly. Everett gasped and let one hand off the broom to seize Jaspers shoulder. Jasper took both hands off of his broom and gently placed one on top of Everett's hand on his shoulder and wrapped the other across his back. Once the broom was still and Everett was balanced Jasper coached him on steering and balance. The two of them floated around the perimeter of the quidditch pitch extremely slowly, Jasper sensing when Everett would lose his balance and firmly adjusting him by moving shoving his shoulder in the right direction.

After ten minutes of this Everett could tell how much Jasper wanted to fly on his new broom. "Jas, go ride that thing, I want to watch you fly."

Jasper looked happy to perform but Everett thought, for just a moment, that he saw a spark of longing in those amber eyes. He quickly shook the idea from his mind.

Everett watched the wind streak through Jasper's brunet hair and his silhouette as he rose out of the stands against the twilight sky.

Just a few moments later though, Jasper came down and said "You have to come with me."

When Everett began to shake his head Jasper said "Would I let you fall?" To which Everett had no answer.

They walked to the middle of the pitch and, once Everett had mustered up the courage, kicked off into the air. Everett had a much smoother launch this time around and Jasper half guided, half carried him higher and higher above the goal posts with his arm around his shoulders. When they came to a standstill, Everett began to look down at the second but Jasper caught his chin with his broom hand. They both froze. "You. Um. You don't want to do that. You don't want to look down I mean." Jasper breathed. But Everett didn't want to look down, not because he was scared, but because Jasper wasn't down there.

That was just before summer break. When school started back up the boys found that they had quite a few classes together. One of those was potions with professor Snape. Every year Snape chose one or two students to target as his most hated. Everett was that student, and Jasper was one of his favorites until he started standing up for Everett.

They were working on a potion created to preserve the heat in someone's body in cold environments. Everett's blue eyes were fixed on his cauldron, watching the blue tinted smoke rise in rich swirls, just a shade darker than the book called for. Snape called him a bumbling idiot under his breath, but he made sure to say it loud enough for Everett to hear. Jasper, who was sitting next to him, narrowed his eyes at the professor. Everett couldn't help sniggering when Jasper called Snape an overgrown bat. But he had to prove that he was good enough to make Snape's stupid potion. He was stirring furiously and humming the tune of a song his sister played often on the farm. “Rett, calm down. It's not a big deal. Why do you care what Snape thinks of you?”

“I don't. I just want him to know that a muggle born can do just as well as a pureblood,” Everett hissed, adding a drop of salamander blood to the mixture. His hand was shaking so much that a drop of blood wound up on his shoe. Jasper stepped closer to Everett and gently tilted Rett's chin up with his fingers.

“Relax, it's a really complex potion. You're going to overwork yourself trying to impress him.”

Everett seemed not to hear him, as he continued to stir vigorously. He was muttering something about the consistency looking like cow shit. Jasper had finally had enough of Everett beating himself up over this. He tried to gingerly pry the spoon from Everett's hands, but Everett kept a death grip on it. Jasper tugged on it again, but his hand slipped, spilling the tiny vial of salamander blood he'd forgotten he was holding. It spilled into the potion, and the boys were suddenly engulfed in flames as a thunderous explosion shook the classroom. The heat seared into Jasper and he heard a yell as the flames burnt his vision into blackness.

Everett opened his heavy eyelids and immediately felt the heat and pain on his skin. He strained to turn his head and saw Jasper lying unconscious, bandaged, bloody, and pale. As Everett tried to sit up he felt something thick and stiff around his middle. He peered under the sheets to find himself wrapped in clean white bandages.

Jasper began to shift in his bed, and the springs creaked and triggered an explosion of a migraine between Everett's ears, his lungs aching like he'd inhaled shards of glass. Everett had the sudden, intense desire to go back to sleep and lose all connection to the physical world and his broken body, but just as his eyelids closed again he heard Jasper's voice. "Rett?" He groaned, “Rett, are you awake?”

“Unfortunately,” Rett rasped, keeping his eyes shut. He heard a loud creak of the mattress and then the distinct sound of a limping gait coming his way, then felt the edge of his bed dip under Jasper's weight. Jasper's hand rested atop Everett's bandaged one, and the corners of Everett's mouth turned up a bit. His blue eyes slowly cracked open again. Jasper was smiling down at him, but all Everett could notice were the singed tips of Jasper's deep brown curls and the large burn on his cheek. “I'm sorry,” He whispered.

Jasper's amber eyes went huge. “You have nothing to be sorry for Rett, I was the one who spilled the blood.”

“Because you were trying to get me to relax,” Everett said, working himself up, “if I wasn't so worried about proving myself to Snape you wouldn't have had to do that and you wouldn't be lying here right now. God, maybe mum's right, I'm not cut out for this.”

“Don't you dare say that, Rett. I’ve seen you curse bullies like it's nothing, you can turn house cats into tigers. So what if Snape doesn't like you. Passing potions isn't going to make or break your life. You're an incredible wizard, one of the best I've ever met.”

Rett sniffled, and suddenly Jasper's lips were against his, soft and sweet and warm. Once Rett got over his surprise he kissed back, his hand resting on the nape of Jasper's neck. Jasper gently brushed a stray lock of blond hair off Everett’s forehead as he pulled away. “And quite honestly, if you leave Hogwarts, then I'll have to too.”

#love story #gay #boyfriends #hogwarts #harry potter #original character #fiction #kinda fanfic

4 notes · View notes

drades-lair · 7 years ago

Text

Mental - Part 1

Author: Drade666

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence, language, mentions of sex

Pairing: Michael x Male reader

Fandom: Supernatural

Other:

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Cold white walls glared under the dim glow of the florescent light bulbs, reflecting ever so slightly off the laminate flooring as (Y/N) slowly wandered down the hallway. This place was always the same never changing except for some new faces occasionally, he glanced at the band around his wrist that had his name along with basic information written on it. (Y/N) caught sight of the wording on the wall of the hallway that read Colorado County Hospital, Mental ward in big bronze letters causing him to chuckle a little because yeah that’s a great way to make you feel better while locked away. (Y/N) had just turned 18 however he’d been in the mental ward of the hospital since he was 16 apparently that’s what happens when you start screaming in the middle of the night that your seeing ghosts followed up by mysterious cuts appearing on your body that everyone thinks you did. Slumping down in the day room (Y/N) sat as far away from everyone else as he could possibly get after all if it wasn’t for the nurses insisting he go ‘socialize’ he’d not even be out there right now, despite everything he’d at least gotten the solitude he’d longed for all his life. Things were the same in the day room with crazy Steve as (Y/N) called him sitting drawing with crayons at one of the tables, pervert Tommy was creeping over in the corner opposite from (Y/N) and then there was Lizzie (yes as in that Lizzie) who was mumbling to herself while plucking a string from the couch. Of course these were just the residents you could see there were also about a handful of people not even the nurses could see, yes (Y/N) could still see ghosts despite the hopes of the doctors that the drugs would stop the hallucinations they didn’t but (Y/N) did get better at hiding his little secret talent after about six months of trying and failing to convince them of what he was seeing. To make the nurses happy he spent about an hour in the day room just staring at those washed out walls before faking not feeling well so he could go back to his room without the nurses badgering him for a few hours, shuffling once more down the hallway passed the bronze lettering (Y/N) found his room and went inside. Having proven he wasn’t too high risk for suicide (Y/N) had been allowed to have an IPod to listen to music on which he promptly did once back in his room however he had to listen to it out loud as he couldn’t have headphones due to the wire on them, letting out a solemn sigh he started listening to the music which eventually caused him to fall asleep. Clearly a nurse eventually turned off the music because when (Y/N) awoke it was silent in his room not to mention dark meaning he’d slept well into the evening and with a glance out the barred window was confirmed by the evening sky now hanging over the city. Releasing a heavy breath (Y/N) rubbed his hands over his face when suddenly there was a sound from within the room that made the young man jolt upwards in the bed, glancing around the dark room it took a moment for (Y/N)’s eyes to adjust that’s when panic set in as his eyes fell upon a figure standing in the corner by the door staring straight at him.

Everything started moving in a blur as (Y/N) realized that the cover to his vent was knocked on the floor then just as he was about to hit the call button for help the figure leapt onto him. (Y/N) struggled to get free however being a rather scrawny teen not to mention the fact they had him so hopped up on drugs half the time it made his head swim it all impaired (Y/N) to a hazardous degree. Small slivers of moonlight illuminated the figure now on top of (Y/N) revealing him to be pervert Tommy! Tomas had been sent to the mental ward for having touched several kids inappropriately as well as engaging young kids in inappropriate conversation however as he’d not really done anything drastic they decided he was worth trying to rehabilitate especially when he told a shrink that he felt ‘bad’ for doing it (yeah right). Pervert Tommy had been in the ward for a little over 2 years now with (Y/N) but other than some occasional creepy staring which let’s be honest in a place like this was pretty power for the course actually, he’d really not done anything until now that is…(Y/N) thrashed beneath the man who was about 3 times (Y/N)’s size meaning he easily pinned the teen to the bed of course (Y/N) cried out for help unfortunately again in a place like this it could take a nurse about 15 minutes to even respond to a patient’s cries. Continuing to struggle (Y/N) watched as Tomas used the sheet from the bed to tether the young man’s wrists above his head to the railing of the bed but he continued to thrash with screams for help until Tommy grabbed the pillow case off the pillow to wrap around his head forming a gag. Silenced from screaming anymore (Y/N) knew now no nurse would come simply thinking that he’d had an episode for a moment then went back to sleep as (Y/N) often did, fear permeated the air as (Y/N) realized that he was about to be raped only a few feet from two separate people on either side of him yet no one would notice…no one would care because he was simply an attention starved teen with delusional tendencies and depression induced self-harm. Continuing to struggle (Y/N) suddenly did something he never thought he’d ever do although it was mostly by accident, done without thinking about it he let a prayer slip out of his mind asking for help from any divine being that maybe listening granted he didn’t really anticipate anything to happen so when it did it was a shock.

Squeezing his eyes shut (Y/N) prepared for the inevitable with hopes it’d be over quickly when the wait was lifted off of him out of nowhere. No longer feeling trapped (Y/N) opened his eyes with renewed vigor as he yanked at the sheet eventually managing to get free, it was only as he was removing the pillow case gag that he noticed the third body in the room along with pervert Tommy lying unconscious on the ground across from (Y/N)’s bed. The figure had brilliant blue eyes that glowed in the moonlight streaming through the window however it was the large sets of silver wings tucked up behind the man’s back that really caught (Y/N)’s attention the most. Scooting backwards on the bed (Y/N) slammed his hand against the call button while staring at the man who stepped into the moonlight revealing he was about five foot nine or so with raven colored hair of course there were those silver wings too.

“What the hell are you?” (Y/N) exclaimed finally able to string more than two words together

The figure didn’t answer simply placed his index finger to his lips before vanishing leaving the young man dazed with confusion as the nurses came running through the door to discover Tommy unconscious on the ground. Of course questions were asked however explaining things on normal days here was hard enough but try doing so when you really weren’t even sure what happened, essentially the doctors put the pieces together using (Y/N)’s vague description of Tommy being in the room after lights out along with the fact he was a pedophile coming to the conclusion that (Y/N) had almost been a victim of the man’s. Tommy was obviously removed from the ward while (Y/N) went through two weeks of shrink hell with them constantly pressuring him to ‘talk’ about what happened so he’d ‘feel’ better but again how to you sit there and describe the fact that you didn’t free yourself from the man’s grasp that instead a man appeared in the room, saved you, had gorgeous blue eyes and silver wings? Oh and that he vanished into thin air of course…the answer? You don’t, instead (Y/N) simply remained silent mostly trying to work through that night however the only conclusion the young man could come up with was utterly…well insane! He’d seen plenty of ghosts over the years…but an angel? How was that even possible? (Y/N)’s head was beginning to throb not from a headache though or at least not a normal one it was as if there was this incredible ringing in his ears that refused to go away. Placing the tips of his fingers against his temple (Y/N) winced that’s when the therapist’s voice shattered the young man’s inner argument.

“(Y/N)!” The older man called to the younger man

“Hmm? Sorry, what did you say?” (Y/N) asked, realizing he’d not even been paying attention

“Are you alright?” The therapist asked clearly concerned

“Uh…yeah…I’m fine…just a bit of a headache,” (Y/N) explained still feeling the throbbing at his temples

“Alright…well then we’ll end it here...let you get some rest,” The therapist stated closing the file he was holding with (Y/N)’s name on it.

Happy to accept that offer (Y/N) allowed himself to be escorted back to his room by a nurse who gave him some pills for the headache before leaving him alone. The pills did almost nothing to sooth the aching in (Y/N)’s head as he tossed around in bed trying to go to sleep fortunately darkness managed to engulf him ending the pain for a little while. Apparently (Y/N) had slept all night long because the next thing he knew a nurse was gently shaking him awake with the instructions to get dressed and head down to the examination rooms for a weekly examine. Slowly sitting up (Y/N) watched as the nurse left to let him get dressed instantly he thought sarcastically ‘yippee, examine day’ with an exaggerated eye roll. Every week on different days for different groups of patients they had examine days where basically the doctors or nurses do a basic check up on you, searching for new injuries that may indicate you’re having issues so to speak or even things like too much weight loss or gain might also indicate problems however for (Y/N) it was simply a pain in the ass. Once dressed he emerged to find the nurse from before waiting for him, she smiled then guided (Y/N) towards the examination rooms where several patients were already waiting. Letting out a heavy sigh the young man took a seat in the last chair available simply happy that at least the pain had subsided from his head making it easier to think today which only brought up more questions, although he’d suffered headaches in the past they’d never been that bad before not to mention never lasted more than an hour or two at most. Uncertain what to make of the strange headache (Y/N) simply let it go with relief it was gone in general that’s when a male nurse came out of one of the examination rooms with a clipboard in hand that he glanced at before calling the young man’s name. (Y/N) hurried in to get this over with of course he needed to strip down to his boxers leaving him in an uncomfortably vulnerable state yet he remained stoic as usual, the nurse went through the motions of checking basics such as height/weight/ temperature/ blood pressure…things like that. When it came to checking for injuries the nurse easily noticed the large scar that ran vertically on the back of his neck along with the small circular scars that ran all down his spine in a perfectly straight line, nothing new though they’d been there since he was admitted at the age of 16 yet the nurse appeared to squint at the clipboard before looking confused up at (Y/N).

“It says you had these scars when you arrived…but there is no explanation what they’re from,” The bald male nurse stated suspiciously

“That’s because I didn’t know…still don’t,” (Y/N) shrugged

“Do your parents know?” The nurse wondered

“I don’t know? I’d assume the hospital asked them,” (Y/N) sarcastically stated after all how would he know if they asked his parents or not.

“We’ll give them a call…see what they say,” The nurse stated making a note on the page he was looking at on the clipboard before continuing the examination.

Yeah, good luck with that considering that since he was admitted 2 years ago he’d never seen them basically they dumped and ran not wanting to have a crazy for a son. Once finished with the examination all patients were allowed to go about their day of course (Y/N) simply slunk back to his room it was there he began to think about his parents seeing as they’d been brought up by the nurse it was at this time (Y/N) realized he could barely even remember what his parents looked like or sounded like? Confusion began to set in as the young man tried to concentrate on his life before being admitted to the hospital however other than the whole seeing ghost’s thing he couldn’t remember hardly anything just flashes of images with different people in them none of which he could positively identify as his parents. Sitting on the edge of his bed (Y/N) brought his hands up to tangle in his (color) hair, what was happening? Was he really going insane? Breathing heavily with his panic setting in (Y/N) felt debilitating pain come out of nowhere, shooting completely through his body from his head to his toes that caused him to literally seize up. Unable to move or scream (Y/N) simply curled into a ball on his bed while the white hot intense pain coursed through him in agonizing waves until the darkness engulfed everything.

Over the next few days the pain came in waves leaving (Y/N) curled in a ball in his room, ignoring the nurse’s suggestions to go walk around. Normally not wanting to cause trouble (Y/N) obeyed what he was told to do however now he was just interested in baring the overwhelming pain or figuring out what was going on in general with himself when not in pain. Five days locked in his room the nurse who came to check on him in the morning insisted he go to the day room for a while again normally a request that wasn’t so bad except today it severely aggravated him to the point the young man snapped at the blonde female nurse. Ask (Y/N) to describe how he was feeling and he’d have no answer for you at this moment it was just irritation combined with not feeling like himself for whatever reason, different…wrong even. Two large male nurses entered (Y/N)’s room about 10 minutes after he’d snapped at the blonde female nurse continuing with the insistence he go to the day room although they were kind about it there was also a firmness in their voices that clearly said he didn’t really have a choice in this matter. Practically snarling (Y/N) told the duo to fuck off that’s when they grabbed each of his upper arms to force the young man out of his room but they didn’t make it that far, both ended up on their backs unconscious in a matter of moments with (Y/N) standing in the middle of his room panting heavily with a look of intent plastered across his face. It was the scream of the female nurse that snapped the young man out of his haze instantly revealing the scene before him that he truly had no recollection of having done, startled, confused (Y/N) had tears welling up in his eyes. Instinct took over causing (Y/N) to flee in fear easily bending the bars around his window then smashing through it he fled into the nearby wooded area of the park where he found a small covered area to hide in. Tears now streaming down his face (Y/N) tucked his knees up to his chest, arms wrapping firmly around them as his brain raced to find reason to what had just occurred with no answers considering nothing made much sense…that’s when the blue eyed man with raven hair popped back into mind. Had the angel…if that’s what he was…done something to him? Had that man made him do these things? Alone and terrified (Y/N) heard the sirens go off on an ambulance followed by shouting from the hospital as they were clearly searching for him now which only made him coil in further on himself, shaking with fear. The weight of everything weighed heavily on (Y/N)’s mind until it was crushing him eventually causing his vision to blur then blacken as he passed out onto the grass below. Half expecting to wake up in a straightjacket in a padded room (Y/N) was slightly surprised yet mostly confused when his vision semi returned to reveal he was being carried in someone’s arms, cradled against a warm solid chest instead of being carelessly handled into a pair of cold cuffs. Unable to really focus (Y/N) fell back into unconsciousness almost taking comfort in the warmth of the body carrying him despite not knowing where they were going.

9 notes · View notes

chromemuffin · 7 years ago

Photo

Shoukoku no Altair Liveblogging (Chapter 12)

Yeah, this took a while to get through for some reason.

It’s already the third volume! And yet Mahmut’s journey is just barely getting started...

Anyway, a lovely cover as always. The style is a little different here, definitely going for a much harsher look, though still elegant. (but how the hell do you draw such intricate patterns without getting dizzy). I like the crescent moons on his belt the most. Also, that’s an interesting sword. Can’t really tell if it’s his usual curved one. It doesn’t look like a straight blade though.

Aaanyways, looks like it’s back to the Balt-Rhein people. I am considerably less interested in them than others in the cast, but ok.

Chapter 12: The City by the Lighthouse

Ah yes, Louis. I haven’t really missed you. Interesting um, port town? Maybe. It’s well defended. Though there are some nasty whirlpool things in the upper right, and a little sea monster at the bottom.

OH, I see. The whole thing is supposed to look like a chess board, with the city surrounded. Haha that’s why the wall around the town looked a little weird.

Nice perspective here, it makes the ships look very tiny next to the imposing wall/barrier like structure with the heavy chains half submerged. Which makes sense, in context of the ocean, though we can’t see much of the water.

Helloooo Mahmut. Looking a lot better compared to last chapter. He has a much lighter expression here as he muses about the origin of the pyramis charm.

And once again, I like how the random townspeople all look different from each other. This time, the townspeople are clearly dressed differently from the other towns we’ve seen. Which makes sense, considering its real life counterpart.

rawr

It’s cute. In a weird way.

New character! I guess he’s a jewel merchant or something?

I wouldn’t really call this advice, but a little heads-up. That came a little too late. But, you live and you learn.

I wonder if Mahmut ever gets to travel without everyone finding out who he is the first day he steps into town. He’s not very good at staying low-profile (though a giant bird following him around doesn’t really help matters...).

When does Mahmut not get caught up in some kind of trouble? Helpful guy is not actually being very helpful.

It’s all part of the learning experience, I guess.

It’s clearly intentional, but I am nonetheless continually amazed by how tiny Mahmut looks next to, well, almost everyone he meets.

but lol “I see you are quite devoted to your worship. I have indeed heard of how faith in the water spirit is a national characteristic of Turkiye.”

The pyramis really is a clever way to contact fellow spies. But judging by this guy’s tone of voice and the cult people from the last chapter, I’m not sure it will hold up for that much longer.

He recovers his composure very quickly, for how easily he gets surprised in the first place, and I appreciate that.

Ohoho that play is going to haunt him for the rest of his life, probably. But lol at the intimidating “The Phoenician Magistros Constantinos wants to see you.” And then we get this smiley guy.

My thoughts exactly.

BUT AT LEAST WE GET FURNITURE I CAN MAKE SENSE OF. Kinda hard to see, but the little feast laid out is neat. Though those cups with tentacles hanging out are a little...

I’m dying.

Welp, that’s the ancient world for you. Poor Mahmut, getting interrogated.

It sort of doubles as a really weird table decoration, so...

Ah, but we get back to business in the next panel. Apparently the Balt-Rhein peoples are in the area.

DON’T JINX YOURSELF DUDE. Look at what you did. The city’s probably going to get attacked now.

Oh, but you are sort of hoping the Empire attacks...? Interesting.

And an interesting stance here. “With power comes responsibility” I suppose. So what is the Empire currently doing to those it has taken over? You’d think that any empire’s methods of expanding/gaining control over other lands would be quite similar no matter the times, but this guy implies that the Balt-Rhein Empire isn’t doing right by its own people not to mention trying to conquer its neighbors.

Interesting.

I was going to skip this panel, but Mahmut’s tiny mouth, lack of face, and the fact that Iskander is a ball with a vague beak-like dot on him is too good to pass up.

Is this Mr. Glorious Hair whose actual name escapes me at the moment.

Also, I love how everyone saunters while walking down a random street in town late at night with almost no one to see them.

Y’know, maybe you’d be more welcome if you stopped trying to invade your neighbors. Just a suggestion.

Once again loving the designs of the background and secondary characters. I guess this is a gathering of officials in the city? In any case, Apollo is the only one pleased by this turn of events.

Iskander does in fact sleep with him. :3 which is why he takes him up to the rooftop with him alll those chapters back when Shara was staying over his place. Iskander is also getting more and more poofy and round like a turkey or something lol.

Aww not a morning person, I see. I also wonder what he’s wearing? I think that shirt is just the one he wears normally under the red vest....thing (it’s not a vest but I don’t know what it’s called). The little buttons and bindings are a cute touch. (I do think we’ve seen him wear this to sleep before, I just forgot which chapter...)

lol why is Mahmut needed to sit in on the debate. In fact, his position and status is sort of in limbo now. Everyone is used to calling him Mahmut Pasha though.

I don’t really have anything to add to this conversation other than that both sides have realistic arguments.

I’m glad the Empire has at least one weakness, naval warfare, I hope this stays true for a while. It’s gotta have something it’s not good at.

OH NO, watch out Mahmut! They’re gonna come for you now. He was just minding his own business, listening, getting slightly concerned, and now he got dragged into the argument as proof that the Empire can be defeated.

Which, if you think about it, was actually quite important in the grand scheme of things. It seemed like a tiny event and Mahmut himself seems startled/shocked that they’re blowing the event way out of proportion. Except, it probably wasn’t as insignificant as he (or I) was thinking.

Hisar was an important town, and several of the Empire’s people weaseled their way in and made the locals help them take over. But Mahmut, through some quick-thinking, actually managed to thwart it. Considering the Empire’s military might, I can see how this guy would use it as evidence that they aren’t as omnipotent as they seem.

lol he was not anticipating this.

Ooh, and now he gets to tell his side of the story! I like how he tries so hard to clear misconceptions up every time people blow the events out of proportion, though.

I also like how he can sometimes be a great orator, even during some odd moments (like when he was going to sacrifice himself because he felt guilty for getting Suleyman hurt), and other times he wavers a bit like here. You can tell by his speech bubbles that he’s not 100% confident here. It’s awkward for him, since people keep building him up to be this amazing hero in stories.

Tough spot here.

On one hand, he’s urging them not to start a WAR on the basis of false information and misconception. On the other hand, lol, he’s basically urging them to give into the Empire because it’s hopeless to win against them.

These boatsssss. (or ships). Very nice details. So pretty. But menacing.

lol no one is infallible.

NO THAT IS A VERY BAD IDEA.

Are there like. No military leaders in this place or. This guy is a tradesman, so him supporting a compromise that doesn’t end in war and all that messy business entails is sort of understandable. I forget how these debates and assemblies worked in that area of the world back then so.

lol be a little more self-aware, kid.

OH. That’s not your real hair.

yippee?

Probably not, but. The alternative wasn’t too good either.

I’m rooting for you guys, but the issue is that Phoenica probably hasn’t waged war against anyone for quite some time. The Empire certainly has been militaristic for a while now, while Phoenica seems to have become a place of mainly trade and commerce. That could be an issue.

He’s not going anywhere, but yeah, it would be wise to get out of there while you can.

Determined Mahmut makes his (re)appearance.!

And that’s a wrap! Sorry this took so long to get out. This was a fairly long chapter, and I’ve been really busy lately.

← back・onward →

#shoukoku no altair #the very long altair liveblog #altair vol 3

5 notes · View notes

tessatechaitea · 5 years ago

Text

Review of The Twilight Zone, Episode Three, "Guns Don't Kill People. But Then, Apparently, People Don't Kill People Either."

Look, Rod. If I'm going to sound smart talking about your stupid little science fiction show, you're going to have to meet me halfway by writing smart episodes. If I have to sit through another rambling episode that doesn't know where it's going like "Mr. Denton On Doomsday," I'll be forced to pretend I know what I'm talking about so I don't sound stupid writing another review of another episode I didn't understand! And I hate pretending that I know what I'm talking about! I'd rather just know! I'm not too bright but my imagination is fucking dreadful! Don't worry though! I'm going to give you a fair shake and try to figure out what the fuck you were trying to do with this episode aside from make your version of a western. The first thing to assume when figuring out what an episode of The Twilight Zone was about is that it's a morality tale. They're all going to have some sort of message for the viewer to ponder and take with them as they travel through life, like maybe listen to the crazy person on the plane or perhaps don't worry too much about death because while you're hanging from the bridge dying, you'll actually think you're having a grand adventure (it's a lesson Fred Madison learned well in Lost Highway! If you're about to die in the electric chair, just turn into Balthazar Getty!). Anyway, the easiest way to figure out the moral is to start backwards. Rod usually tries to help with a few closing words about how things are in The Twilight Zone. In this one, he's all, "Whoa, Nellie! Giddyup, I reckon! Pardners, lissen ta whut I gots ta say! Sometimes fate can pull a man outta some pit while also keeping some other young buck from fallin' in! Yee haw!" So that's the lesson, I guess. Sometimes an old person is pretty darn useless but they can still be a good example to the young. Maybe. I don't fucking know! The next thing to consider is the actors. Did I recognize any 1950s actors from this episode? If so, then it must have been an important episode. I won't get into the weeds on the logic of that statement; you'll just have to trust that it's as factual as I can get. The only person I recognized, and he wasn't even the main guy, was Martin Landau. He played a huge dick whose role in the episode was to, um, be a huge dick, I guess? One thing I'll say for Martin Landau: I think he could fit a cantaloupe in his mouth. Thirdly, you have to consider the paranormal aspects. In this one, some salesman named Fate drops by to give Mr. Denton a gun. The gun symbolizes his fight against alcohol and his struggle to regain control of his life. Except maybe it only symbolizes that in the first half. Because after Mr. Denton humiliates Martin and decides to stop being the town drunk, he realizes his life is now over. Why? Because Rod Serling has a weird idea about the Old West. Apparently in Rod's Old West, every gunslinger was constantly going from town to town fighting to the death with other gunslingers they heard were the best in that town. Why the fuck would anybody do that?! If I was a pretty good gunslinger, I'd only want to fight mediocre gunslingers! What am I going around risking my own neck for?! But Mr. Denton realizes people are going to come around challenging him now that he's not a drunk anymore and he's good with the iron! Is that a gun reference? I think it might be a golf reference! So now we've got one story that kind of finished up and moved on to another one. Mr. Denton fought off his demons with a gun but now that gun threatens his life. Salesman Fate convinces Mr. Denton not to flee by giving him a potion that makes him the fastest draw in the west. Well, what a deal! Of course Mr. Denton is going to accept that deal even if he told that prostitute the story about killing the sixteen year old gunslinger that challenged him and how all the death led him to drink the rest of his life away. Why run away to save your life and stay sober when you're assured of being able to kill another jerk coming for you?! Lastly, you need to think about how the big twist relates to the rest of the story (if there is a twist. In this one, there is! I think!). In this one, right before the final gunfight, Mr. Denton swigs his potion. But then he sees his young challenger swig the same potion! Oh no! Now they're both the fastest draw in the West! But they've gone too far to stop now. Besides, maybe one of those potions was to make the guy harder so he could fuck a prostitute after the gun battle. But neither was! Both were Dr. Fate's Super Fancy Speed-em Up Potions! So each gunslinger fires and shoots the other in the hand. The doctor rushes up and says, "Oh no! Now neither of you can ever fire a gun again!" And Mr. Denton says, "Yippee!" And the young guy says, "Aw, shucks!" But then Mr. Denton is all, "Be thankful, kid! You're life is going to be great now! Especially since we're in the Old West and there are prostitutes all over the place that can jerk you off since you can't even hold your tallywacker anymore!" So that's the lesson, I guess. Violence is never the answer? And also drinking isn't the answer? And maybe running from a fight is also not the answer? But I bet smoking and fucking is still okay! Yippee ki ay!

#The Twilight Zone #Rod Serling

0 notes

howboutdemwings · 7 years ago

Text

Come And Knock On My Door with @InMyOwnMhis

Jagger -Aching face? Check. Swollen neck? Check. Diminished life capacity? Checkmate. It was brutally sobering that a night with such a small amount of bloodletting had so obviously left me with fewer sands in my hour glass. I was well acquainted with going without before I hesitantly bellied up to the old vein tap. Safety nets were powerful things. Haven had been mine. There was security that came with having a familiar to sustain you. Without that catch all I was staring down a thousand stories about to take the free fall. Yep. It had just become real. Shit. I felt doubly cheated, the high from my roughing up had worn off; standing in was an ice pack to the face and the phantom pains of Assail’s hand around my throat, taking up residence where my mother’s cross should be. I wasn’t one for materialism. I liked my domain tight, clean and uncluttered. This was the singular exception when it came to possessions. The loss had sent me reeling back into mourning with an immediateness. The ache was as fresh in the frontal lobe as if I’d only just lived her death. Course, it had never been further away than lurking anyway. I hadn’t bothered with a glass for the whiskey, opting to keep up the black eye, bruised nose image I was working by drinking directly from the bottle. I was on swig three when the pounding at my front door came along with the shout of my name. You fucking kidding me? Assail had had me followed? Clearly it wasn’t the silent brothers with that set of lungs. Great. The slumber party I’d never wanted was standing on my doorstep with the burning ball of fire about to debut its-deadly-to-vampires rays. If Assail had sent a watchdog for daytime hours, it wasn’t going to bode well if I turned him away. Not to mention if I did that I’d be just like… Yeah, wasn’t gonna finish that thought. Well played, ya fancy bastard. What in fresh hell had I gotten myself into by attempting to do the bloody right thing? I gave the knob a sharp twist but before I could open the door even part way, I was shoved back by whoever was behind it. So reflexes were toast, too. Yippee. There was no missing what had crashed through my door. It sure as hell wasn’t a thug. No. I shook my head in protest as what registered in a few very disorienting moments was a male that was flanked by a set of opalescent wings in my entryway, his bronzed skin set off by a light that -felt- like it came from him. That had me blinking a few times… In his arms was the limp and beaten body of a fair-haired female. She was clearly broken, complete with a savage gash at her throat. A portrait of both beauty and agony . My stomach twisted and my eyes flashed back to the male. Thoughts were traveling at the speed of light through my weary mind, too many things to say, too many questions. Until I latched onto what hung around the male’s neck. Briny tears pooled and risked a spill and without conscious thought, I closed the three of us in together. The question was my only and it flew out without any pomp and circumstance.- Where did you get that? Lassiter: <I waited for the door to close behind us and looked around the space we had intruded upon. It wasn’t much but the windows were covered and that was all I had hoped for in terms of the immediate when my foot had been pounding on the door. Looking down at the female, I checked to see if she was still breathing then moved past the shocked guy I assumed was Jagger so I could lay her down on his couch. Surely he wouldn’t mind...it’s not like she was going anywhere in the next twelve hours anyways, she might as well be as comfortable as possible given the beating she had taken. As my hand brushed her hair back from her face again, I realized he was talking to me. I shook my head, of all the first things to say…> THAT? Dude, she’s nearly dead and you want to know where I found her? <Turning around to face him, my gaze was all steel and disapproving attitude until I got a better look at his mug. Seems tonight was the night for fists connecting with faces in Caldwell. There was light bruising around his throat that looked to be the vague shape of a hand and he had a solid black eye which skewed his features to a degree that paired with it. In his hand, which lacked any evidence of bruising or scuff marks was a bottle of amber liquid I guessed to be whiskey. He was nursing his injuries, much like I had seen the Brothers do and if I had to guess, it had been a one sided fight. I set aside my nosy inquiry and scrubbed over my face as my aggression toward his question simmered down and I moved back over to the girl, pulling the card from her pocket.> I found her in a fucking alley, watched as some asswipe dumped her and took off. Your name and address were on her when I checked her pockets, so here we are. <Turning back to male, I held out the card> You are Jagger, aren’t you? Jagger -I watched in disbelief, my mind still on that cross -my mother’s cross- hanging from his neck. I didn’t have the wherewithal to be bothered when he laid the female on my couch, but was snapped to attention when he relayed that my name and number were in her pockets. For a minute I wondered if maybe the skull smash had left something cracked because this was starting to be like a whole lot of Jagger-In-FuckNoLand. The rest of what he said filed in out of order behind the soldier of my name. Beaten. Dumped in an alley. Alright, this was way more Dicken’s than Disney and here I was with Ghosts-of-Daddy past right here in my living room.- I’m Jagger, yeah. But I don’t know her… -I could barely stand a glance her way, not out of disregard but because that whiskey wanted to burn its way right back up and make an escape. How in the hell had she ended up with my number and address? I lifted my hand to my face, the scrub doing nothing to erase the scene, instead it manifested in sharper relief. I wracked my brain and finally it dawned. She had to be Haven’s doing. Or her father… Lhance. That was the only explanation. I could contact them in the evening, thank you ball-o-sunshine.- There’s someone I can call when the sun drops. -I wanted to ask about the cross, I wanted to walk right over and take it off his neck, but with an injured female on my couch, I stuffed my own shit, having no damn clue what to do or say next.- Lassiter: <The confirmation of Jagger’s identity wasn’t necessarily needed, given that the female was stuck here while the sun was out doing its daylight thing, but it was good to know we had, at the very least made it to the right house. Beneath the scent of alcohol on his breath, lingered the confirmation I needed that Jagger was indeed a vampire. I paced back and forth in the small living space as my mind began to work through the “how tos” and in what order when I realized he had spoken again. Stopping directly in front of Jagger, my brows knit in confusion.> Excuse me? You’re going to do what when the sun drops? <I laughed without humour and shook my head while pointing in the direction of his couch.> Does it look like she has that kind of time to you, buddy? No. She’s waiting for the Reaper himself to arrive and collect her innocent soul. I am not about to allow that to happen. She needs blood. Your blood because she sure as shit isn’t going to heal on mine. <As I spoke it dawned on me that he was avoiding her, as I spoke, his eyes had landed on everything else they could but were steadfast in doing their best at staying off her broke, unconscious body. Nope. Not cool. If he wanted to play the avoiding game, I was going to put an end to that fast. Grabbing Jagger by the upper arm, I pulled him over to the couch and stared down his beat up profile while forcing him to look at her, allowing him no opportunity to avoid her any further.> Can you not hear the weakened thuds of her heart, it has already slowed considerably since we arrived only minutes ago. You may not know her, but if we wait, like you’re suggesting, she’ll be dead before long and I simply cannot allow that. Jagger -Oh. God. No. My eyes had nowhere to go but down but my body tried for escape, the grip of the golden male wouldn’t give and I was forced to face the reality he was suggesting as my heart pounded in the rhythm of doom. My lungs were paralyzed and I tried to draw oxygen, coming back with a big fat empty.- I can’t! She’s better off in the fade than she is at my vein. My blood is corrupted, I’m tainted… spoiled, unworthy… I won’t… no! -With escape impossible, I was left to crumble to my knees, shoulders sagging while tears burned down my face with a liquid heat that rivaled that of the whiskey that had recently flowed down my throat and my arm was left up north, in the male’s grip. Why… why was this angel’s life left hanging in my hands? She hadn’t deserved this any more than the savagery that brought her here. If taking the vein had rendered me so stunted and emptied my soul, the thought of her at mine was ruination. Closer to her, still shielding my eyes, I could hear her slowed pulse and I knew the male was not bluffing. If I opened my vein for her, her life would be salvaged by something soiled, and she was… pristine. What if she would choose to deny it if she knew of my past? The nature of my sire. How he had treated females thusly. And… what if the act alone unleashed something in me that was the very thing I had always fought to become? Rhuin. I could barely mutter the words. I could hardly acknowledge this cruel twist of choices.- I am no one’s salvation. Lassiter: <Denial of my request was something I was used to hearing, especially if it was from the Big Guy in the sky. My jaw dropped in shock as Jagger refused to help the female. Certainly I hadn’t expected him to jump for joy over offering his vein, but flat out refusal wasn’t something I had even considered. As he crumpled at my side, I watched the bottle in his other hand slip from his grasp but didn’t bother making a reach for it to save the contents from spilling all over the carpet. My head shook in an effort to try and rattle free another approach that would have him agreeing. I didn’t understand how he could view himself as tainted or unworthy. And I certainly didn’t understand what was with all the stubborn male I was being forced to deal with of late.> It’s bad enough I have the Brothers to deal with, now you give me civilians who don’t want to listen either? This is NOT the kind of overtime I was expecting. <I didn’t care if Jagger could hear me complaining to God, he seemed off in his own world of hurt and misery anyways, I simply needed to file the complaint so I could carry on.> What now, huh?! < I had hoped forcing Jagger to see the gravity of the situation would work to my advantage but instead I now had two damaged vamps on my hands and not a clue at how to deal. After a moment of thinking, I released Jagger’s arm and rubbed my hands together and as a brighter glow than I normally casted began to illuminate the room, I crouched down next to him. I spoke his name softly and when he turned to face me, my hands moved to the wounds on his neck and face, healing the bruises and taking away the swelling with a little further effort. Maybe if I fixed his physical injuries he wouldn’t feel so damaged and I’d be able to convince him he could do it.> Please reconsider, Jagger...I can even wipe your memory of us after you help her. You won’t remember a thing. Jagger -Conversations with God? Actually sounded more like a union worker issuing a formal complaint. Could this dude really be an angel? Something told me the Magic 8 Ball would answer “Sources say yes” but I’d donated mine to Safe Place when they’d had a drive that Haven had told me about. Damn it. Guess I’d never know. The word that hung most in the background was “civilian” the first part of which was “civil.” But half of my genetics were anything but. I was on the precipice of catatonic, about to give myself over to the numbness that would make the decision moot, when the male released me. My head still hung heavy only swayed when I felt his looming presence drop to my level. Were his hands glowing? Sanity came into question but before I could go down that rabbit hole, he laid hands on my injuries. I felt a warmth replace the pain that was served up courtesy of the SUV window and Assail’s neck hug. My breathing leveled out as I was suffused by a peacefulness that defied logic, reason… and a sound mind. What in the actual…? His plea felt soft on my ears but not at all light on conviction. My eyes were magnetized to the cross around his neck which seemed to shimmer while basking in the glow of his skin. I wanted to rage against this outcome. I wanted to fight against exposing the girl to my sickness, but there was something else I was denying in the process. I had so focused on the monster of my father’s legacy, I had forgotten he wasn’t all that made me. Smacking me in the face with reality was a sign, the cross the male had come to wear. The one I thought I’d lost. A loss that had reinforced the decisions I’d made for myself. There it was, returned to me, under circumstances so strange I couldn’t deny the message. It was incredible how something so silent could actually scream at you. I swallowed hard. Once. Twice. Three times before the vocal chords agreed to get with the program. I didn’t give an answer, but I had come to one.- What’s your name? Lassiter: <Slowly I pulled my hands away from Jagger’s face and throat when I was certain I had reversed the damage he had sustained from only God knew whom. When I finally got a clear look of his face, no longer obstructed by the deep purple bruising and swollen flesh, my jaw dropped.> Holy shit high in the sky. It’s you. I should have fucking known. <Shaking my head in disbelief, my fingers went to the cross around my neck. The metal was warm from my skin but just like before, the images held within the item flash-carded through my mind on instant replay all while I stared at the face in person.> How did I not...My God. I must be failing somehow to have not realized. <My brows knit together and without saying another word, I looked up to the ceiling, muttering a few choice words to my boss about his twisted sense of humour as I grabbed ahold of the chain and lifted it up over my head then reached over to return it back to its rightful owner.> This is yours. <Once the chain settled around Jagger’s neck, the warmth I had felt from the item had relocated deep inside me, leaving me feeling accomplished and pleased about having so quickly and successfully returned it without even trying, much like I had found the necklace without trying. A low laugh parted my lips and I dropped my hands out of his personal space, finally feeling ready to answer his question that remained hanging in the air between us.> My name is Lassiter. And I promise, I'm not always such a shit show like you just bore witness to. Jagger -Despite the world of fuckery I found myself basking in, the reaction to sight of my must-be-healed face earned a chuckle. It was lost on me how in the hell this winged-male knew me but his next move had me going with an internal jaw drop. Without a request or further word, my eyes tracked every move as he carefully handled the cross with as much consideration as I would. When it returned around my neck, the weight barely registered but the breath I’d been holding since realizing its loss was expunged from my lungs in a full body sigh of relief. My eyes flicked up to his, my gaze a penetrating force.- Many thanks, Lassiter. I am about to return the favor. Maybe complete with shit show. -My eyes shifted back to the girl who looked near lifeless. A new dread took up residence in my chest and I thought I might start my shit show with a spectacular return of my whiskey to the surface. I lifted my hand, noting the tremble, gently pushing a lock of her hair from over her eye. Who could do this? Who could disregard a female in such a manner? The echo in my head bore my own last name in answer. I looked back at Lassiter, to whom I owed a debt, my voice was meek at best.- Will you be able to heal her when I am done? My blood is...an abomination. Lassiter: <It was clear my returning the necklace back to Jagger had a weighted effect on him, one I should have expected perhaps given the strong images that had hit me when I found it, but nothing about me being here in his place with a battered female was what I had expected of this night. I had thought I had already filled my guardian duties, but apparently not. Leave it to the Big Guy to throw a wrench into my plans of returning back to my BFF back at the manse. She’d keep just fine though... hung on the wall exactly as a good flat screen does. Jagger’s exhale had my eyes lifting from the golden cross as it rested upon his chest up to his serious gaze and as he spoke, something about the way his voice sounded had me mentally lifting a brow. I didn't understand what he was getting at, how could helping another cause a shit show? Wasn't this a normal thing for the fanger types? All the Brothers did it back at the mansion. Well, the ones who were able fed from their females and they kept their lady’s thirst quenched in return. Granted, it was almost always paired with a tumble between the sheets. Only in the case of feeding from a Chosen was sex rarely involved. The thought had me clearing my throat just as I watched his hand reach over to brush some hair away from the unconscious female’s busted eye. Yeah...so...that was definitely an act of intimacy if I had ever seen one. Perhaps that's what he was getting at, maybe he was used to the feed and fuck way of life. Though, there was no way this female was in any shape to participate in that kind of activity and maybe that was what he meant by his own shit show. Was worried about sporting wood with me next to him? Hell if I knew. I could deal if that was the case. Or I could even offer to step outside. That could make him feel more comfortable. Right. So deep in spiralling thoughts, I was, cycling through the what- the-fuck-nows that when he spoke again, I nearly missed his question.> Huh? <My head shook while confusion washed over my face, perhaps I had heard him wrong.> Dude. You feed her and she’ll heal just fine on her own. What she needs is blood...none of her injuries are fatal from what I can tell. Plus, I sincerely doubt your blood is anything but exactly what she needs which negates any sort of suggestion of it being an abomination. Just get to, you know… <flashing my pearly whites at Jagger, I brought my wrist up to my mouth and mimed biting into it before hovering it over the female’s mouth.> ...should be easy peasy. No? Jagger -Easy. Peasy. Yeah, that was a fuck no. While dread built with the fury of a hurricane in the trappings of my ribs, I could hear the female’s heartbeat slowing. Lassiter was right. She didn’t have the time to wait out the daylight, she didn’t even have the time for me to sell my plight to the… angel. That’s what he was, wasn’t he? Only he lived and breathed and was very much standing in my living room, not off on a Cumulonimbus frolick. The explanation would have to wait until after. Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my switch blade. The demons rose to my brain with a quickness, taunting my choice with haunting reminders of the vile blood that had made me by half. A female taking my vein had never been on the table. Closing my eyes, my hearing sharpened to that dull, weak thudding in her chest counting down opportunity with a somber suspense. Physically I was headed on the fast track to paralysis and inability to do shit. My fangs stayed retreated, cowering in fear, not offering up their services. Those sharp canines were staying loyal to me, betraying her, but I knew that was coming, didn’t I? I met Lassiter’s gaze again, holding out my knife to him.- You’re going to have to tap my vein and now. She’s not got long. And one other thing. Whatever you do, you can’t leave me alone with her. At all. -My voice cracked unsuspectingly at the admission, portraying my inherent weakness, the one that came from Rhuin. What if this act woke some dormant beast inside of me? What if saving her meant the demise of my character? This somehow felt like skydiving only I didn’t have chute.- Lassiter: <Waiting for Jagger to answer my question felt like a lifetime of moments, suspended in the air surrounding us along with my expectation and his reluctance to hop to it. I was dumbfounded as his eyes closed and lost my pierced brows to my hairline at the sight of a pocket knife appearing in front of me. It seemed he was intent on doing exactly the opposite of what his natural instinct should be. Did that mean he also didn't have the usual sexual urges, too? I wasn't about to assume because up until now, all I had managed to do was make an ass of myself on repeat. As he held out the blade, I took it from him and convinced my brows to drop down to their usual spot on my forehead so they could knit together in confusion. This was most definitely way out of the ordinary. But so was this whole fucked up situation and if he needed me to play slip slide with the blade to his wrist and hold his hand like a bottle to save the girl, I wasn't about to leave him without aid. The very fact that he went from suggesting we wait until sundown to agreeing to help meant I had made the right decision to shove my way through his door. Nodding slowly to his requests, I grabbed ahold of his hand with my free one and without giving the action any further consideration or analysis, I quickly drew the point of the blade over his wrist, running parallel with the tendons and opening his vein effortlessly. I didn't concern myself with the pain he likely felt from the knife gliding through his flesh, no doubt it ranked low on his list of booboos given the black eye I had healed for him only a few moments ago. As soon as the bright red fluid raised to the surface of his skin, I moved his wrist to the female’s barely parted lips, pressing it against them to open her mouth a little further so the blood flow could make its way to the back of her throat thanks to gravity. He had said I was going to have to do the work which I didn't mind, even if I didn't understand why. I didn't dare chance a look his way but with the way his body had gone stone still next to me, I could hazarded a guess he was likely freaking out some. My wing closest to him spread out and curled around his body, pulling him in closer to my side, hoping it would help relax him even a little while I did my best to block his view of where his hand was being held captive at the female’s mouth. My voice was quiet as I spoke, hoping it could reach into her unconscious mind.> Come on, sweetheart take what you need. Jagger -I inhaled in relief as the blade made like my flesh was butter, the streak of pain the least of the penance I felt I deserved for what I was about to subject an innocent to. In giving to her, I felt as though I was taking something irretrievable from her. Only the cross so recently returned around my neck held me to the deal and something about the angel who’d returned it to me. Seeing my blood -his blood- ratcheted up the internal cringe to a point of outright rejection to what was happening. In some sick macabre twist, I wondered if this was the way I was meant to go. If my death were to be some poetic warp of irony - saving a life with the very blood I wished to extinguish - perhaps I’d actually check-out with some honor. “Here lies Jagger son of Rhuin, male of worth.” Yeah. Nope. That shit wasn’t in the cards. Besides, it wasn’t my intention to go out with a bang, but to slip into death without any pomp and no one left behind to tell my tale. When Lassiter pressed my wrist to her mouth, the meeting of her lips felt soft and I was rendered a helpless volunteer. My heart pumped painfully, delivering what she needed, while I was doing a mental sprint far, far away. I was removed from my body but aware of the slight shake that had joined the party when I was blindsided yet again. One of those wings cocooned me, bringing me closer to its owner. And I broke. Fiery tears escaped the corners of my eyes, rebelling against my statued state. I’d been rejected by the only male I’d ever known. Not swaddled or held. Not verbally commended. Rhuin had even wished me into death. And now…. Now I was funneled into the reality of what he had deprived me of in a small act that had a monumental effect. I couldn’t comprehend anything on the global level of meaning, but knew in a moment this is what I had suffered to experience for so long. I didn’t know what to do, how to cope or understand as the experience played WWE with my feelings. My world started to spin erratically, when something stopped it. Suction at my wrist. A soft gasp. I sagged against Lassiter as our sleeping beauty showed first signs of revival.- Lassiter: Oh, thank fuck. <It didn't take long for the girl’s natural instincts to kick in, and even while her body lay broken on Jagger’s couch, I exhaled a sigh as she began to take weak pulls at his vein. I was beyond grateful for one damn thing to go as it should. Finally. My eyes didn't leave her face out of fear that she might suddenly catch herself a case of the all-dones far too soon. Even to a non-vamp like myself it was clear her blood loss had been paramount. Thankfully she was up for the fight and continued to suck down his blood while I kept his wrist at her lips. The weight of Jagger’s form as it sagged into my side did not go unnoticed however, and for a brief moment, I looked over at him to check that he hadn't passed out. My heart twisted inside my chest and stuttered a couple of times at the expression on his face. It was utterly devastating to witness such upset and defeat on another who should be exuding pride and joy. While I didn't quite understand the tears that were staining his cheeks, my wing tightened around him in reassurance while my fingers that continued to grasp his hand and forearm loosened just enough so that both thumbs could brush back and forth over his skin, offering more physical comfort in any way I could. The guy looked like he needed a hug in the worst way and if I had been confident it wouldn't send him over the edge, I might have chanced wrapping one arm around his shoulders too. But his earlier words continued to echo in my mind and so, I held his wrist steadfast to her lips. The muted and weak sounds the female made as she swallowed at Jagger’s vein were encouraging and just as I knew his blood would help her, something inside me felt the need to affirm the evidence aloud.> Look, Jagger. Some of her colour is returning. And listen...her heart. It seems stronger, no? <I paused long enough for him to be able to hear the truth of my words for himself before continuing.> That's all because of you. She was on the Fade’s doorstep but your blood called her back to the land of the living. Even the gash across her eye appears less gnarly, too, you can't deny. <A small grin took hold of my lips and as I turned my head to see if he was looking for himself, I whispered quietly, hoping it wouldn't destroy our tentative life saving venture.> There is no way your blood is contaminated with the way it's healing her so quickly. I told you it was all she would need, didn't I? Jagger -It was difficult to feel victorious with the knowledge that with her growing strength she was ingesting more of my contaminated plasma. My heart was stretched like taffy, gripped between distress and relent and… relief. I felt a surer latch on my wrist and in a moment of what seemed preordained, a slight loosening of Lassiter’s grip, followed up with a gentle pass of his thumb. The urge to go fetal was strong and my power to resist it lessened as her heartbeat drummed louder, stepping her away from fatality. I was trapped in this triangulated maze of emotions I couldn’t process, leaving me despondent. I heard the easy encouragement when Lassiter spoke. It wasn’t overly pushy and I was overwhelmed with the sense I couldn’t let him down by being the coward who refused to witness what he was touting. That would be failure. My head felt weighted as it lifted from my shoulders and there was no denying the change in the female was remarkable. Her colorless skin had taken on a dewy glow, which stood out in contrast to the gruesome purple that framed her eye. My teeth clenched. I heard the whispered words, but my mind rejected what Lassiter was saying. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He wouldn’t have brought her to me had he known. Fuck. Would he regret this too? Would the gravity of what I had done by saving her life sentenced him to regret and God knows what else? Shit. Angel. The man in charge would know. Turning my head in weary relief towards Lassiter. The confession spilled out with the barrier of my self control temporarily lost. - He did this to her. To them. To all of them. -shaking my head- You have to heal her… save her… Soul. -For as much as I knew my father was dead, this display of a ravaged female clinging to life at the tap of my vein left me with the three dimensional, in your face vision I’d never known. Virtual reality was bad. Reality reality was a nightmare.- Lassiter: <Have you ever experienced a moment where you are so sure of something and expect a certain reaction that when you don't get it you need to do a double take? Yeah. That was exactly where I had found myself. Hello, Confusionville. Population: One. I could see with my own glowing white eyes the healing effects of Jagger’s blood and yet, he was still insisting she required saving. My eyes shifted past his face that was etched with worry and concern and landed on the long forgotten tipped over whiskey bottle.> Just how much did you drink before I invited myself in? <This time I hadn't expected an answer from him, in fact I hadn't really meant to speak my query aloud but I was back to speaking to myself as a means of working through shit because it was starting to get beyond capacity up in the grey matter.> Did you drink so much your vision is wonky, buddy? She's healing amazingly and her soul is perfectly intact seeing as she’s still alive. There isn't anything more for me to do… <I paused my out loud thinking and rewound what he said in my mind. The first part made no sense. Who was the “he” Jagger had been referring to and what did he mean by “all of them”? So many questions and I had no idea how to make sense of what he was talking about. I shook my head and as I collected my thoughts, piecing them together to form an actual question I hoped he had an answer to, I barely noticed the sucking sounds at Jagger’s wrist had slowed even though my hands kept it gently pressed to the female’s lips.> Who are you talking about, my man? Do you mean the limping asshole who dumped her in the alley? He only had her, nobody else with him. <Quiet stretched for a few moments and my gaze held Jagger's as I waited for him to clue me the fuck in. As his mouth opened and closed a couple of times, the answer I once again wasn't expecting came and not from Jagger but from the female who, up until now had been unconscious and mute. Her voice was raspy and quiet, clearly she had worn it out during her struggle but despite that, it didn't lack conviction and was full of malice as she spoke, leaving us both shocked into silence.> “Rhancid...piece of shit.”

0 notes