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tendousthoughts · 3 years ago

Note

Yo yo yo... god that cringy but anyway! I would like to request something that I saw on another blog. It’s when the s/o has a fight with the boys and after it the boys go to the bedroom or somewhere to be alone but when they come out they see that their s/o is gone. In reality they just went outside for a walk to clear their head but our precious boyos panic that they left them for good.

I hope I explained that well I’m pretty new to requesting and stuff but I really love what you’ve written so far on your blog🥺

HQ Boys Thinking Their S/O Left Them Pt. 1

Character(s) included: Sakusa & Iwaizumi

Warning(s): Foul language (cursing), flinching

Song of the day: Meteor Shower by Cavetown

A/N to ask writer: Heyo! Thanks for enjoying my content! I love this idea, thanks for sharing. If you were looking for a specific character(s) to be put in this prompt go ahead and shoot me a pm/dm, write another message in anon or non-anon, or just comment on this!

A/N: Heyo as you can see I’ve added a new section for people who are my ask box writers in answering too! I got some new rps but if anyone wants to chat! This prompt gave me a lot of space to work with and I’ve decided that it will always probably be a four part series as well or maybe five. I’m extremely sorry about the break I took. If you have any ideas what to call this please tell me lmao. If you have any requests please read my rules first! Sorry for my grammatical and spelling errors. Reblogs, follows, and likes are greatly appreciated!

Where to find all the parts!

Where to find all my content!

Sakusa

It was a one sided fight. As always. He was yelling and you just took it. It was your fault after all. You shouldn’t have touched his shit, but you did. So now you are here. Holding back your pathetic tears. A mouth full of words was pushing through your lips and soon they fell out. “Sometimes I wonder why you’re still with me..” you whisper, no longer able to push back your tears. “I mean I don’t know what you want from me anymore,” You mutter softly.

He sat their stunned for a moment, “Maybe I want to be alone, but fuck your so clingy and nosey.” He muttered softly. He looked up at you, disgust in his eyes. “You know sometimes I wonder what the hell happened to you at birth to make you this fucked up. We’re you dropped or something?” He screamed. His hands now balled up into fist. You’re scared. You’re not going to lie. As he steps forward you flinch and that brings him back to reality. Instead of saying something he backs off and slams the door. You sit there stunned.

“I’m sorry..” you whisper and leave, grabbing most of your stuff. What ever you can grab at that moment which happens to be your phone, keys, wallet, and jacket. You take a deep breath as you slip on your shoes and leave quietly. Locking the door after yourself.

I’m sorry

Your thoughts were all over the place as you got into your car. Grabbing your phone you turn it off. Not wanting any calls or texts. Expecting none, but that just might hurt you more. You take a deep breath and decide to drive nowhere on a random freeway. You start the car and leave.

Hours passed when Sakusa finally came out of the room, “y/n..?” He whispered softly. Now missing you as he didn’t know what he was doing. He looked around and soon realized some of your stuff was gone, and so were you.

He bit his lip running to his room as he called you. “Pick up.. pick up.. pick up..” he whispered.

Heyo! You’ve happened to miss me! I’m sorryyy but I am probably hanging out with my amazing boyfriend. Please leave a message and I’ll call you back soon! Anyways gotta go. I’m going to get in trouble with my boss if he catches me on my phone.

He bit his lip hearing the voicemail. It’s funny, he had never heard it before. Maybe it was because he never called and it was always you. Or maybe because when he did you picked up immediately. Unknowingly tears start to roll down his face. He fucked up. He knows he fucked up.

He lays down on the bed you guys share and just holds your pillow close. Tears rolling down his cheek. He calls again but waits till he can say something. “Y/n.. I’m sorry.. Please pick up. I’m sorry.” He sniffles as his tears fall. “I didn’t mean any of it.. please..” he whimpered softly as he knew it was no use. He ended the call and just cried for a few hours.

When night came he decided not to eat. He wasn’t feeling good as he tried to call you again. Yet not to his surprise he heard the same voicemail. Tears welled up as he heard your soothing voice. He couldn’t believe he made you so scared that you flinched away from him. “Y/n.. baby.. please.. I’m sorry.. I miss you.. I know I sound stupid and you probably want some space.. b..but please..” he hung up. Throwing his phone as he hugged your pillow closer.

At 11 pm you finally make it back. Hoping he is sleeping as you walk in. But to your surprise you can hear soft cries and whimpers coming from the room you share. You bit your lip softly as you gently put your stuff down. Softly taking a deep breath, you gently knock.

“Ba.. Sakusa..” You bite your lip as a couple seconds later you can hear the sound of someone fall or something and then you’re greeted with a tight hug.

“I’m sorry.. I’m sorry.. I’m sorry..” he whimpered softly as he just held on to you. “Please don’t go.” Fear was heard clearly in his voice.

You bit your lip. “Baby.. I’m right here.. take a deep breath.. I’m dirty Sakusa you gotta let me go..” you whispered worried how he might react later.

“No..” he whispered softly as he held on tighter. “P..please no..” he was scared.

“Okay okay.. I’ve got you.. no leaving..” you smiled softly as you gently held him. “I’ve got you..” you muttered softly. You gently held him kissing his head. You take off your jacket and make your way to the bed you guys share. Gently sitting down and Sakusa followed.

He hugged on to you immediately as tears flood his eyes. “I’m sorry.. I don’t want you to leave me and stuff.. I didn’t mean any of it..” he whispered softly “I love you so much.” He muttered.

“I love you too baby..” you whispered softly playing with his curly dark hair. “I didn’t mean to worry you okay.. I’m sorry baby..” you mumble softly.

“It’s my fault.. I got angry and I started yelling and.. a..and I wanted to show you how mad I was.. and I started to scream at you and I said that I didn’t want you to be so clingy.. I didn’t mean that. I missed you and when I went to find you I couldn’t.. and it scared me and I know I fucked it. And I know I shouldn’t have done that. When I saw you finch I didn’t know.. I..I just thought about how terrible I was acting and stuff..” he whispered softly. “When I tried to call you.. you didn’t pick up and then I heard your voicemail.. and I don’t know I just..” he was crying into your chest as he held on.

“Shush.. I’ve got you.. I’m sorry baby.. I know.. it was my fault okay? You didn’t mean too. I touched your stuff and I didn’t think about how you would feel.” You whispered softly, kissing his head softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you.. and you know I wouldn’t ever just leave you without saying anything. I won’t do that to you..” you whispered as he closed his eyes and just held on. “I’ve got you and won’t let you go I promise..” you whispered softly while holding him.

“I love you..” he whispered softly as he looked up to you. Tears in his eyes. “I love you so much..” he whispered.

“I love you too darling..” you smile softly. Holding him till he falls asleep. Once he does you close your eyes and fall asleep too.

Iwaizumi

He got jealous easily. Everyone knew that. He was the type to act on his jealousy. Not only that, but he acted upon them in irrotational ways. So when he heard that you were hanging out with a coworker, it wasn't an extreme surprise that he made a huge deal about it. Starting an argument as soon as you get back.

"Just tell me who the fuck he is!" He screamed, his voice echoed in the hallway. You weren’t even inside yet and he was already acting as if he was going to kill someone.

"Can I even just come in?" you look up at him. You’re clearly annoyed which might just make him more upset.

"Oh okay just come inside! Would you like something to drink too?” He said sarcastically.“Oh wait you went and had coffee already with this 'coworker'!" He screamed as you pushed your way through the door.

When you turn to him the door is already shut and he is waiting for an answer. “It’s a coworker I don’t need to repeat myself, and I won’t. I’m not going to not hang out with people because you want me too!” You scream. Here’s the thing. Your so fucking sick and tired of him pushing you around. You used to take his shit but a month or two ago you started to respond. There’s no fucking reason for his shit.

“Ya you know what. Maybe I would be okay with it if it wasn’t taking up our time together!” He screamed and at this point nobody is really understanding what the other is saying.

“Our time? Our time?! How fucking dare you. You’re always at work! I don’t get a word out before you kick me out of our office!” You look at him in annoyance.

“My work is something I can’t just ignore! So I don’t understand why you keep bringing it up! Your fucking coworker can wait can’t they? I mean you knew I was off today! Did the whole fucking date just skim over your head?” He screamed. Now everything sorta just clicks.

“Wait ba-” but before you can finish he had already left the room. A few brief seconds pass by and you are met with the sound of a door slamming. “Fuck..” you muttered softly.

A few minutes go by and you come to the idea that he wants some time alone. You are just coming home, and are already ready to leave. So you slip on your shoes and leave. Locking the door after you head out to go get some for him, full of his favorite snacks and stuff. Knowing full well that wouldn’t fix it but maybe it could make him a bit happier.

When you get to your car you get a pop up from your reminders app. You feel a wave of tears. “Fuck,” you muttered throwing your phone to the next seat over as you start to drive.

It takes about half an hour for him to notice you’re not there anymore. He doesn’t hear your footsteps or anything as he gets up to check. After a moment or two he knows you left for sure. “Fucking shit. Misses our date and then leaves..” he muttered softly as he headed to the shared room.

You arrived getting a few things as you don’t think about anything other than how to make him happy.

After an hour or two more he bit his lip softly now a bit worried if you’re okay. But he doesn’t call waiting an hour before he does so.

Ring…

Hello! It seems like you have sadly missed me. I can call you back as soon as possible! Just please leave a message! Bye bye!

It takes him a moment before he opts just to hang up. When he does he releases a shaky breath.

An hour later you get back with some stuff gently placing the stuff down as you take off your jacket and shoes.

Iwaizumi hears you scrambling up and running over. A sigh of relief falls as he sees you standing there. “Thank god..” he muttered softly, walking up to you.

You look over unsure what to say as you feel his arms tightly wrap around you. “I’m.. I’m sorry Hajime…” you whispered softly as tears welled up. You hugged him tight as you felt terrible. “I’m sorry…” you whisper again.

“Hey it’s okay.. I know you didn’t mean to.. I just.. I was upset because it feels like sometimes when I do make time for you something happens.. like last time and shit. But when I don’t it always seems like you’re free and I thought we knew we were both open today and I woke up without you there and then I found out you were having coffee with someone and everything just started crashing down you know..?” He whispered softly.

“I know baby.. I know.. I’m sorry.” You whisper as you hear soft cries come from him. “I’ve got you.. okay? I promise next time I will remember.. I know I messed up okay? You didn’t deserve that..” you whispered as he kinda just stays quiet and holds on. “I got you some goodies baby…” you whisper.

“Please don’t leave like that again.. it made me worried..” he whispered now finally telling you. “I thought you left for good..” he muttered softly, holding you “you didn’t respond to my calls either..” he whispered softly.

“I’m sorry baby.. I won’t.. and you know I wouldn’t do that to you.. I love you too much for that okay?” You bit your lip as you listened “I didn’t see them.. I’ll check why later.. okay? I’m sorry,” you whisper and kiss his head holding him close. Soon enough he drags you to your shared bed to cuddle.

“I love you..” he whispered softly, holding on.

“I love you too Hajime,” you smiled softly, kissing him. Soon enough he fell asleep, the stress finally lifted off his shoulders. You were in his arms again. That’s all that mattered.

Follows and likes are appreciated! Please reblog if you enjoyed it, so more people can find my work! Thank you all for your support! Stay safe, and have a good rest of your day!

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killian-whump · 4 years ago

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10 things people like

So judging by the TRS promo photos released recently, as well as the trailer we got before that, I feel like NatGeo and/or Disney are really clued in to what appeals to people in a general sense - particularly the kind of people who might be planning to tune in to their upcoming astronaut show. So without further ado, I’d like to present 10 Things People Like™

Colin O’Donoghue

People like Colin O’Donoghue. He’s a likeable kind of guy. Colin O’Donoghue fans, rather unsurprisingly, are very fond of Colin O’Donoghue. If they could sprinkle little tiny Colin O’Donoghues on their breakfast cereal, they probably would. Then they would cry and refuse to eat it, because they wouldn’t want to engage in Colin O’Donoghue abuse. On second thought, this is a bad idea and no one should actually do it. Just... leave him out of your breakfast entirely and enjoy him in wholesome ways, like appreciating this photo.

Men in Suits

Well, who doesn’t like a nice looking man in a tidy suit? Nobody, that’s who! And since people don’t make television programs for nobody to watch them, that means putting handsome men in suits in your TV program is just a plain all-around good idea. For added fun, each suit is unique in its own different way. One of them is brown. One is very gray (not just sort of gray!). One has a bow tie. One is worn by Colin O’Donoghue, which seems like a concerted effort to appeal to Colin O’Donoghue fans who like men in suits...

Men in Uniform

Yes, please! Everyone likes a good uniform, don’t they? Heck, there’s even romance novels that feature army men, firefighters, police men, you name it... all basically just to have an excuse to put a man in uniform on the cover. They’re not fooling anybody, you know. Anyhow, this particular uniform is being worn by Colin O’Donoghue, who looks really, really good in one. I’m starting to sense a theme here, and I’m starting to think this entire article may just be a thinly veiled attempt to list things Colin O’Donoghue fans like. In which case, we may as well throw all pretense aside and call it what it is...

Colin O’Donoghue in Uniform

I mean, when you have a good thing, you gotta get as many miles as you can out of it, so you should probably put it in the trailer and in the promo pics, and maybe even on the side of buses or the backs of park benches. These are just suggestions, of course. You’re welcome to put Colin O’Donoghue’s handsome face anywhere you damn well please (within reason), and doubly so if he’s in uniform when you’re doing it.

Colin O’Donoghue Doing Things™

If there’s one thing Colin O’Donoghue fans like, it’s Colin O’Donoghue. If there’s another thing Colin O’Donoghue fans like, it’s Colin O’Donoghue doing things. You might ask yourself, “What things do Colin O’Donoghue fans like to watch Colin O’Donoghue doing?” and to that, I will answer: “Pretty much anything at all, but especially things they haven’t already seen him do.” Knowing this, NatGeo and Disney have provided us with some truly amazing footage of Colin O’Donoghue Doing Things™ - things like this great shot of him spinning all around in a gyroscopey freefall simulator. Oooooh!

Colin O’Donoghue’s Smile

Colin O’Donoghue has the world’s most perfect and endearing smile. This is a scientific fact, and totally not a wild claim I’m making out of nowhere just because I really, really believe it to be true. When someone sees Colin O’Donoghue smile, their day just gets a little bit brighter. Their problems seem a little bit more manageable. Their skin clears up. Their crops are watered. They can’t help but smile, themselves. In fact, I’m pretty sure Colin O’Donoghue’s smile is a key part in the secret to attaining world peace. If it turns out to be, just remember you all heard it here first.

Colin O’Donoghue Punching People

Now, I hear a lot of you saying, “But wait! Doesn’t Colin get punched in almost everything he does?” and the answer to that is, of course, YES. Yes, he does. Colin O’Donoghue has a very handsome, but apparently very punchable, face. Showrunners know everyone is expecting that precious, gorgeous face to get belted at some point - and thus, they know better than to show that in promotional materials. If they show us Colin O’Donoghue punching someone else, instead, they are essentially teasing us all with what we know will inevitably follow - someone punching Colin O’Donoghue right back.

Colin O’Donoghue Smooching

Look. We Colin O’Donoghue fans are simple people. We like simple things. Colin O’Donoghue. Colin O’Donoghue wearing things. Colin O’Donoghue doing things. Colin O’Donoghue existing. Really, we’re pretty easy to please. So it should come as no surprise that we also enjoy it when Colin O’Donoghue’s face runs into someone else’s face and things happen. Smoochy things. Things with the lips and the tongue and the... smooches. Hee hee.

Colin O’Donoghue Sporting (Fake) Injuries

We all know they’re out there. Wild Colin O’Donoghue fans who call themselves “whumpers” and who love seeing Colin play parts that involve his characters getting tied up or beaten up, or even just tripping over a bear trap someone thoughtlessly left in a field somewhere so he has to limp through an entire film. Some of these fans even have crazy blog names composed of his most well-known character’s name followed not-at-all-cleverly by “-whump”. Naturally, these strange individuals never want to see Colin hurt, but they sure do like it when his characters are! The Right Stuff was long expected to be rather light on the kind of content these fans crave, but the powers that be seem to have decided to bless us all - I mean them all - with this adorable hand bandage, anyway. Bless <3

Everything About Whatever This Is

If there’s one winning combination in the world, it’s Colin O’Donoghue + Water. It’s sort of like that other combination of Mogwais + Water, except instead of spawning additional mogwais, this combo just spawns incredibly hot shots of Colin O’Donoghue. The Rite did it. Once Upon a Time did it. The Dust Storm did it. The Words did it. What Still Remains did it. JJ Sneed did it. And The Right Stuff is going to do it, too. How do we know? Well, that’s Colin O’Donoghue right there, running barefoot at the other fellow and tackling him into a pool. Are they fighting? Is this foreplay? What’s happening here? We don’t know, but we’re all pretty much 100% ready for it, whatever it is, and eager to see it. After all, the only thing better than Colin O’Donoghue is Wet Colin O’Donoghue.

[images and gifs are not mine, except the one or two that are mine]

#colin o'donoghue #the right stuff #my attempts at humor #kw writes a thing #oc #not whxmp

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hope-to-hell · 4 years ago

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Some of you may remember this one from...god, how long ago was it? Months, at least. A mystery of sorts, told in dialogue, finally completed, collected here all neat and tidy. Conversations With Dead Men, August Walker. Intermittent mild gore (blood and teeth) and mystery, experimental style. Walker’s cleaning crew have never met him, but they know his work.

Tagging @viking-raider @sometimesiwrite @iwillmakeyoucraveme @its--fandom--darling@mrsaugustwalker @emyearns @indigosaurus @raspberrydreamclouds @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @summersong69 @nuggsmum @wonderlandfandomkingdom @thelastsock @alexakeyloveloki @luthienaliceisilra @sadboyslogic @imneonpanda @october505 @snowyleopard93 @seriouslygoodlookinggents @feralrunaway @hell1129-blog @takemeback-toparadise @harlotforhenry @maximumninjavoid @ashleyskywalker @cavillryarchive @critfailroll @luclittlepond @ladyahiru @pirate-rhino and as always please let me know if you want on or off the tag list.

Walker and his cleaning crew have never met, but they know him. They know his work; they can read his mood in the patterns of gore on the ceiling. So when they’re summoned to the Grand Palais, they’re surprised, to say the least.

This isn’t like him.

Is he okay? Should we send him some soup? A fruit basket?

~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s weird, you know, but I kinda miss him. When do you think he’s coming back?

It’s been almost a year. I don’t think he is coming back. Besides—

What?

I heard something, about that Paris job. About what happened. C’mere.

Are you fucking serious? What? No goddamn way. Not him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That thing in Kashmir, that was him, wasn’t it? Dave was on cleanup, and he said—

I know what he said. Dave’s full of shit.

No, listen. Listen. What if�� he said they didn’t—

Oh Jesus Christ. Don’t start this.

He said they didn’t find a body. Not even part of one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hey. Come look at this.

What? Come on, we’re in a hurry here. Christ, what a mess.

Look. Look at that. The spray pattern— it’s gotta be.

Lemme see. Move. Well, fuck me sideways, you’re right. It’s him. I’d know that work anywhere.

Do you think they know? Back at headquarters?

Man, I dunno. I don’t think any of them have ever actually seen this shit. But look at that. He’s feeling good.

Good, sure. But look at that. Look how far it got. And the teeth. Fuck. What’s he doing?

Listen. You remember Copenhagen? Back in ‘11? After— well, you know. It’s like that.

Oh Jesus. You don’t think…

I do. I think he’s back, and I think he’s hunting.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Look, I’m telling you. Right before we got the call. I swear I saw him.

What makes you so sure? No one’s seen him. Not since Kashmir. Hell, headquarters doesn’t even believe he’s alive.

I’m telling you. Fuck, listen, it was just for a second, but. You’ve seen the pictures, right? Big guy, looks like he could fight a Buick and win?

Yeah.

Well, I saw him going around the corner, I swear to god. And his face— it was— it was bad. But damn if he wasn’t walking like he had the biggest dick in town. And then we got the call. And like—

Yeah. I know. He’s going after agency guys. And this is— fuck. This is something personal. I’ve never seen him leave them in so many pieces before.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Listen. So I was talking to Dave again last night and he says—

The fuck have I told you about Dave? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

—he says his crew found Benji Dunn. You know, the tech guy? Yeah. Anyway he says they found him in a suitcase on the metro last week.

Jesus.

Yeah. He said it was super clean, too. Not like the others. But there was some kinda weird remote in with him. Dave said the guys from upstairs grabbed it before he could get a look.

The fuck?

You know those IMF guys. Real big on their toys. What do you think it was?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Okay, so listen. You remember that thing I was telling you about the other day? That weird thing they found in with Dunn?

Yeah, you said it was a remote. What about it?

Well, I was taking those teeth up to forensics and I heard them talking about it. Some kind of garage door opener, if you can believe it. And what they found—

Dude. Spit it out. This stain’s gonna set.

Blood. Like, a lot of blood. Sounds like it was a fucking abbatoir. Guess that’s why Dunn was so damn clean, no blood left in him. Poor fuck.

How do you know it was his? Did he—

No, nothing like that. But there was this box with a fingertip in it. Just, like, the last joint. And it matched Dunn’s prints.

Listen, I don’t think this one is him. I know you said you saw him, but. How long have we been doing this? I’ve never seen him do something like that, not even after ‘11. And that was bad. Like, scary bad.

You don’t think—

Listen. I don’t know what to think. Upstairs says he’s dead, but we’re still getting called for jobs that are just like before. And then you see him, and this thing with Dunn happens right after. And why the hell leave the remote with the body, like that room was meant to be found? I don’t like it. It feels like a game, but nobody will tell us the rules.

So what do we do?

Our fuckin job, that’s what. Keep your head down and your ears open, alright?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ok so listen. Fuck, listen. There was another weird one. At the Pines. And guess what?

Dude. Just fucking tell me.

They got him on camera, clear as day. Right on the security feed, only— promise this stays between us?

Yeah. Sure. Promise. Just spit it out already.

His face, man. Just like the pictures. And—

Shit. Wait. Hang on. You said when you saw him, his face was all messed up, right?

Exactly. I swear, when I saw him his face was melted or something. But this was just like his file photo and I don’t think plastic surgery can do that. Not that fast, for fuckin sure.

So what are you saying?

I’m saying it’s him, and it’s not him. How is that possible?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Masks?

Masks.

You’re out of your goddamn mind.

Dave said—

Fuck, fine, what did Dave say?

He says there’s this tech, right? Masks that look just like a real face, voice changers that sound just like whoever you’re pretending to be. So I was thinking—

Don’t tell me.

Dude. It’s gotta be, right? The face? It makes sense.

None of this makes sense. But yeah. I get you.

But why would he? It’s not like anyone else has seen him, as far as I know.

You’re so sure it’s him? Think about it. Dunn was— wrong. Not his work. I think somebody wanted to make it look like his, but somebody who doesn’t know him. Doesn’t know the kind of shit he leaves behind, I mean. Someone who doesn’t know what happened to his face.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. If it’s not him, then who is it? And he’s supposed to be dead, so why pretend to be him? I don’t get it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I saw him again. Fuck. Fuck, man, he was right there, and Dave— Jesus. Oh my god.

Let me guess. He winked and laid his finger aside his nose like fucking Santa Claus.

Listen, man. Listen. I got a call from Dave’s red line, about a rush job— it was when you were out doing that thing in Portland, remember— and he just said meet me at this old apartment. I think it must’ve been one of the old agency safe houses. And he was there.

Dave?

No. You know, him. Big and scary. Walker. And he was talking, and Dave was listening, and Dave was fucking scared, man. Walker said “I know what you’re doing,” and then— fuck. He fucking killed Dave, stabbed him right in the neck, and—

Hey. Hey. Slow down.

He saw me. He saw me, and I ran, and I don’t think he followed me, but I’m scared. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do.

Okay. Okay. Here’s what you do. You go to headquarters first thing. You tell them everything. Don’t leave until they agree to send you somewhere safe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hey. Hey, man. I don’t have much time. He’s outside, fuck, he’s looking at me. I went to headquarters, they didn’t believe me. So I went to our old fishing place. I just— Dave wanted people to know, man. People besides us. I don’t know why he thought killing anyone would help. But Dave never saw Walker's work. Not like we did.

So he—

Yeah. Yeah I think so. And— they’re all dead, man. Everyone who was there for the Kashmir fuckup. Even Hunt. I saw his head, man. His head, and— his face. It was half gone, I— oh fuck. Oh fuck. He’s coming. I’m so scared, I don’t know what to— fuck, wait, no, please. Please, I don’t want—

~*~*~*~*~*~

[your call cannot be completed as dialed. please hang up and try again]

#my fic #august walker #august walker fic #mission: impossible fallout fic #mission impossible: fallout

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shadowfae · 4 years ago

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Do you want to explain what that last ask was? I gotta say you look like an entitled prick in your response and the asker was making some pretty serious accusations. I thought you seemed chill but that entire thing is painting you in a pretty messed up light.

You’re right. I do sound like an entitled prick, and to be quite honest? That’s just fine. Because if I’m a heartless jerk, they can’t hurt me. They can’t touch me if I don’t give them anything to argue with.

This happened in the Evillious Chronicles fandom - you may know best the Vocaloid song Servant of Evil, that’s their most famous song. In the English discord for it.

Well, there was me and a few other ‘kin folks in there, all fictionkind from EC, all of varying ages. This was... I want to say 2016. I could be wrong. Scroll back in my blog and check when I figured out I was Pale, that happened right at the beginning of it.

I was 16-17 or so, maybe 15? I don’t remember. But there was Seth, who was twelve, and Lawrence, who was like 21.

Seth is Seth Twiright. Lawrence was Adam Moonlit. Me, Pale Noel. Seth decided in all his twelve year old traumatized wisdom he was gonna get Lawrence to date him, because he missed his own Adam and figured this one was good enough. He said they were canonmates. Maybe they were. I don’t know and I don’t care.

Lawrence was this British guy in uni for physics who liked visual novels and talking to like-minded others, but didn’t get fandom very much and was so not prepared for this bullshit.

Seth liked the NSFW channels of the server, before the 18+ restriction on them. He had a few notable triggers - the word ‘daddy’ was the big one, there were others - and the rule was, triggers are banned in all but the trigger channels which were free for all. Unfortunately, this meant there had to be two NSFW channels, one where Seth ruled and you couldn’t say daddy, and one where you could and somehow he was still allowed in it.

(Edit: I forgot to mention, but like. Looking back, why the fuck was a 12yo allowed in the NSFW channels. Why.)

I dunno. Anyway, so Lawrence lets Seth make friends with him, Seth fixates the hell on Lawrence because he’s twelve and gay and doesn’t have a good support system or whatever. I was friends with Seth beforehand, because his kintype was mine’s creator and I did trust him a little automatically because of it. (I also immediately trust anyone named Yegor or Raisa, no surprise there). I shouldn’t have. Damn it, I shouldn’t have. But I did.

Seth also was very, very suicidal. Kid should’ve been hospitalized multiple times. But here’s me, who’s like sixteen and doesn’t know any better. I talk him out of suicide.

Again. And again. And again. I didn’t go forty-eight FUCKING hours without talking him back from death’s door. It got so bad, that after like six months of this, I couldn’t eat more than a third a plate of food or half a can of soup without immediately throwing it up, because of the stress. My family actually noticed to the point I was finally allowed to go get therapy, which I’d needed for years.

Me, who just wanted all my friends to not die, spent over a year constantly talking everyone out of suicide. Even Lawrence turned to me, and I helped.

Lawrence tried to take some time off to work on his visual novel. Seth started having such bad suicidal episodes I told Lawrence I’d kill him with my bare hands if he didn’t come back and help me fucking deal with it, because I wasn’t good enough and Seth wanted him.

This got back to the server, one of the admins said this was too far out of line, and I got thrown from the server. I confessed to Seth how suicidal I was, trusting he’d talk to me the same way I’d been talking to him for probably two years, and he said something like “I don’t have the energy for this I’m sorry :(” like I’d ever had the energy to do it for him and yet somehow, I still did.

I almost failed two finals - two very important finals that determined what universities I could even apply to - because I couldn’t study because I had to talk him out of suicide.

By the time all was said and done, I’d been the only one keeping three people from killing themselves for over six months. Lawrence, and Seth. And also myself.

Two or three years later, you know what I know?

Seth called Lawrence a pedophile when and only when Lawrence proved he wasn’t going to let Seth control his every move. Before then, he doted on him like no tomorrow. He realized he could just say “pedophile” and everyone would believe him. I did too, until I’d been away long enough to realize he’d been manipulating me, too.

Seth started it. He fucking started it! Lawrence just wanted to make some friends and talk about his experiences as Adam. He actually made up a girlfriend and roleplayed as her with her own discord account in hopes we’d fucking believe him and leave him alone. At the time, I mocked it, but I’d been manipulated by Seth and didn’t understand it.

Seth will tell you Lawrence is a pedophile. He wasn’t. He was the poor bastard who just so happened to be kind to a megalomaniacal twelve year old (note, Seth did turn thirteen somewhere in here so if I fuck that up, forgive me) and just so happened to fit what he wanted to do.

I. Kept. Seth. Alive.

I kept five fucking people alive, when I was sixteen, and what do I get out of it? Seth tells me that I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. I do not and might not for a decade be able to interact with EC. My own source. Nobody in this fandom save for Soubi, who knew me before and still follows me, will forgive me, because I told Lawrence I’d kill him myself if he didn’t help me keep Seth alive.

I can’t go back to my own source because Seth wanted to see how many people he could manipulate into adoring him. It’s been three years, and if you stress me out enough, I still throw up.

You’ll notice I have very little fear response anymore. I don’t get scared. I just get angry. Go on, guess why that is. Guess! It’s because he traumatized me! He traumatized all of us!

I don’t like calling myself traumatized. You know why. Other people had it worse. And for the most part, I’m over it. I can’t talk anyone out of suicide anymore, not even once. It reminds me of the pure, primal terror of keeping five people alive. One, I could’ve handled. Two, if one was me, yeah sure. But three? No. It was too much.

One was too much to ask of any sixteen year old.

I still throw up if I get stressed. I can never give anyone who really needs it the kindness I gave a twelve year old who didn’t deserve it. But you know what?

If I had to go back and do it all over again, if you made me go through it all, I wouldn’t change a thing. Because I thought he was a victim. Because I thought he was truly hurt. Because I wanted to help.

He didn’t deserve it. Frankly, if he’d died somewhere along the way and instead of him coming into my inbox and bitching about how horrible I am you’d told me he was dead, I wouldn’t be upset. I don’t want to say “Good riddance,” because I wouldn’t say that, but I wouldn’t mourn him.

Maybe Seth deserved better in the start. But I can’t say he deserved better than me, because saving him and everyone was the strongest, bravest thing I’ve ever done. Because he didn’t fucking deserve me, but I deserve me, and what I did was brave. What I did was cruel. What I did was kind.

At the end of the day, I saw a hurting teen who needed help, and I helped. It doesn’t matter that it was all a lie. I did what I could. I did what I had to.

Let him tell the world I traumatized him, because I made damn sure he lived. Let him call me worse than a pedophile, because I refuse to let his memory silence me. Let him stew in his hatred and his sorrow and his megalomania, because I stopped being suicidal, because I realized nothing could be worse than what I’d just been through.

Sometimes you have to argue like an asshole. I’m not going to justify myself to him anymore. I’m not gonna give them something to argue about, they aren’t doing it in good faith. I’m not going to reason with them, they won’t listen. I deserve better.

I do. It just took me far, far too long to realize it.

#asks #sleeping-deity #kin drama //#that ec drama

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ask-a-paternal-cryptid · 5 years ago

Text

The Taste of Love (lost part 2)

(I made this blog because I lost my old phone and didnt want to abandon this idea, BUT despite all odds I found my old phone and recovered my old notes! This is NOT CANON to the blog because I had forgotten my prior story idea and the asks diverted it, but I thought it would be interesting for you to see anyway, and it may give you some ideas for what to ask or smthn)

Patton had never seen a human in person before, not so close. Every time he searched stores and streets for extra non-forest-obtainable resources he went at night so nobody would catch him. Not because he would be put in danger but because he didn’t want to be a bother, and he knew that if he was forced to exercise self defense it wouldn’t be pretty, and he’d have to waste potential food as well. He refused to eat fear and pain. He wasn’t incredibly picky, but when it came to negative emotions those were the worst and barely provided any nutrition. Fear tasted bitter, like juicing dandelions onto your tongue, and pain tasted like cold rusty metal.

He narrowed his eyes and sank onto his haunches. The human was smaller than its steps suggested, malnourished and tired. It looked sickly. It looked surprisingly like Patton, save for its absence of fur and its small ears, and hair the color of blackberry juice. There were a few more subtle differences but nothing severe enough that Patton couldn’t replicate. He felt sorry for it. It was so cute, feeble. And at that point not very appetizing. He watched it stumble over to his bait spread. It seemed confused, which was understandable. But it was too hungry to care. It spoke. More shouted than spoke:

"Logan! Grab Princey and get over here! There’s food!”

It must have been signaling its pack. More of them? In a moment another human trudged out of the brush, dragging another unconscious one on a large tarp. Patton ran through a list of the best ways to approach the situation. It may be less suspicious to them if he approached in a friendly manner? They were obviously in no condition to refuse assistance. He nodded to himself.

In a matter of seconds his fur had shed and his ears had morphed into passable human ones. His claws retracted and were replaced with fingernails and his knees popped as they reversed their bend to a forward position like his prey. He pulled his fur clothing around himself and his eyes dimmed their glow, now simply glinting a brilliant blue. He crept out slowly as to not startle them too much.

"Hello?” He felt a bit bad when the two creatures jumped, but he knew however he came out would startle them this deep in the woods. They looked at him in fear and confusion. "Don’t be afraid. Are you lost?” He said it gently and with a warm undertone, calculated by his body into the least threatening voice to this particular species.

"Who are you?!” The first one he’d seen stepped in front of the other two. The action was endearing and very cute, especially considering it would take little more than a gust of wind to topple the feeble creature.

"I live out here. I’m as surprised as you to find someone this deep in the woods. Or rather you found me.” Patton chuckled. “You seem tired and hungry.”

“Um... yeah. We were hiking and one of us-“ he flashed a quick glance at the unconscious body, “decided to go off trail on an adventure. We’ve been lost about a week now. We need food and shelter... if it’s not too much trouble.”

Patton smiled warmly. “Of course not! I was just about to have some of this but you seem to need it more.” He gestured to the spread.

"Thank you!” The blackberry human sat on the picnic blanket and grabbed an orange. The other conscious human stepped forward and extended a hand. Patton took it.

"Thank you for your hospitality. I’m Logan, this is Virgil, and this,” he motioned to the one on the tarp whom he had been dragging, “Is Roman. We’re not sure what’s wrong with him, but I assume it’s it’s dehydration. Do you have any? Is there a river?”

Patton smiled. “One moment!” He ran back to the cave and pulled the makeshift lid off his rainwater barrel. He took a cup and filled it, then made his way back. “Here you are!”

"Thank you.” The human named Logan took the cup and kneeled next to his pack member, patting his face rapidly until the human named Roman groaned and blinked awake.

"What...?” His throat sounded dry and rough and his voice was soft and weak. Logan held the water to his lips.

"Water. Drink.” The weakened creature obeyed almost instantly as his mind cleared, finishing the water in seconds.

"More?” He looked up desperately. Logan looked to Patton.

"May we have another?” Patton nodded and compliantly refilled the cup, bringing as many as the parched man could drink. Once he was finished, he seemed to become more aware of his surroundings.

"Who is this?”

“He lives around here. He has food and shelter. And water.” Logan informed his pack member. Roman looked from his friend to Patton.

“Thanks... do you have a name?”

“Patton!” Patton grinned. He made sure his razor edged teeth were concealed.

"Well thank you Patton.” He looked at Logan. “Does this mean we got to civilization?!”

"No. He lives out here.”

"But there’s food?” Patton nodded and motioned to where Virgil was stuffing his face in response. Romans eyes brightened and he shakily stood, wobbling over to the the spread before collapsing to his knees in front of it. Logan joined them.

"Be carful Virgil! If you eat too much too fast you might puke and waste it all.” Patton blinked down at him with concern. Virgil looked up and sheepishly slowed his eating. Patton smiled and sat criss cross with his three guests.

"So how do you live out here? You must get your resources somewhere.” Logan inquired as he nibbled on some sourdough and blueberries.

"I garden, and hunt, and collect rainwater. It’s a little inconvenient but I love the forest so it’s worth it.” He decided to leave out the fact he’d probably be cast out as a monster and wouldn’t be able to control his animal urges to hunt while in a human civilization. He thought it might spook them.

"I see. Where’s your house? Is it nearby?” Logan continued to interrogate further. Patton pointed to his cave forty feet behind them.

"I live in that cave right there! It’s real cozy you’ll love it!”

Logan’s brows rose, impressed. “Resourceful...”

"I know! You gotta be at least a little bit sharp to get by out here.”

"Cool...” The blackberry haired Virgil mumbled to himself. Patton looked over to find him listening intently, alongside Roman who was doing the same. Patton felt his face warm. He’d never considered his lifestyle to be impressive and this sort of validation was new to him. He enjoyed it. He giggled.

“Are you done eating? I can show you around!”

"Yes! It’s so cool you live in a cave! Are you some sort of dragon?” Roman beamed at the thought, a teasing glint in his eye. Patton’s blood chilled at the accusation.

"Nah. Just a regular old person like you!” His fangs retracted further into his gums as if they were shy, and he felt his knees strain to return to their position. He wasn’t used to changing form this long and with Romans question he felt it all weigh on him at once. His voice hitched, but he felt like he managed to act casual as he continued. "How... how about I pack this all up and you three can come see where you’ll be for the night? You must be super tired.”

"Thanks again.” Virgil stood shakily and Logan helped him. “We shouldn’t be here long, just enough to get back on our feet. Maybe a couple nights at most.”

"Nonsense, stay as long as you want! You seem like lovely company.” Patton smiled. He needed them to stay long enough to lift their spirits.

“Thank you,” Logan spoke up, “But if you could show us toward any sort of civilization, as I’m sure you know where we are, we should be out by tomorrow at noon.” Patton chewed his lip.

“No need to move so fast, you’re too weak to make it all the way out tomorrow. I can make you some of my Patton-Pending Patton Pasta tomorrow night!”

“Really, we’d rather get home as soon as we can if you don’t mind, we have people who are most definitely worried and responsibilities to fulfill.” Logan wasn’t going to budge. Patton groaned internally. He plastered a smile on his face.

"Okay then! I’ll be sure you all enjoy your stay no matter its length!”

"You are our savior, if there’s anything we can do-“ Roman took Patton’s hand.

“No, no, nothing. Your company is payment enough.” Patton had never lied before, which may have been the reason he wasn’t the best at it. Usually he was just hunting, baiting, pouncing, but something about this prey made him feel a little bad deceiving them.

"You’re an angel.” Roman kissed Patton’s hand, to Patton's surprise.

"Roman! Stop being weird!” Virgil shoved his pack member.

“I’m not!”

"You just kissed a stranger!”

"He was being NICE!”

“You can’t just kiss nice people!” They began to shove and prod each other back and forth. Patton began to reach out to stop them. After all, if they got into a fight they’d be angry, and he’d have to start the happiness all over again. But he paused. He didn’t catch the scent of any anger. This was different. Play fighting, like cougar siblings, the batting of little cubs paws. Teasing. Logan interjected, attempting to break them up. Patton chuckled.

"Cut it out you two, I’m flattered.” He gave a lopsided smile, his fall-chilled, rosy cheeks lifting his eyes into glimmering blue crescents. The three stopped, their cheeks tinting a similar pink through their already wind bitten faces. The cold must have been really getting to them. "Cmon, you look like you’re freezing, let’s get you all by a fire.”

Patton gathered the corners of the picnic blanket and slung it over his shoulder, motioning his guests to follow him toward his cave. They complied, trudging through the leaves and pine needles. The air was rich with the sweet aroma of sap and wet leaves. He would have liked to have stayed out a bit longer to enjoy it, but all three of his prey were shivering, pulling their respective hoodies and jackets tight around their shoulders. He quickened his pace.

They approached the mouth of the cave and Patton hurried them in, gathering three blankets and one large quilt from his chest of nesting materials and distributing one of the fleeces to each. He took the quilt and wrapped them all in a heavy second layer before scampering over to the firewood pile. He lit a match to the stone pit and the fire roared to life on a pile of dry grass and the previous night's wood.

"You should take this chance to sleep as long as you need.”

"But the sun’s still up.” Virgil looked out the cave’s opening. He was right, the sun was low in the west but it had yet to brush the horizon.

“Don’t let the sun boss you around, you’re tired all the same aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll use the time to hunt and get us all something fresh for breakfast.” Patton smiled with difficulty. His teeth were strained and sore. They couldn’t hold their dull form much longer. He willed his prey to shut their eyes. His poorly bent knees, his tiny useless ears, his bare skin screamed to show their true selves.

"Guess so. Thanks again.” Virgil sighed and pulled the quilt tighter, breathing in its calming scent of bread and baked goods.

"It means the world.” Roman leaned into Virgil, his eyes heavy. Logan joined the pile, mumbling a noise Patton interpreted as gratefulness.

"Really, the pleasure is all mine.” Patton took three cups from his cabinet and filled them with water to place next to the pack. “For if you wake up thirsty.”

"Thanks...” Virgil smiled. His cheeks flushed pink, though Patton was sure he’d warmed them all up adequately. He noticed the same blush plaguing the whole pack. Maybe humans warm slower than Pattons.

"I’ll go hunt as soon as I know you’re sleeping. You’d better.” He teased sternness.

"We won’t have any problems with that.” Logan yawned. “You’d better go before it gets too dark.” Patton nodded. He had night vision, but he wouldn’t need it. He had all he needed right in his cave. Right in front of him. He breathed in the gratefulness and content swirling around him. Their aura was mouthwatering. But he had to wait. They were thin; he needed healthy, plump prey. He wanted these three at their full potential. They would be his last meal before hibernation after all. They needed to be hearty. Pun intended.

He took a seat in his wooden armchair and curled up to watch them drift off. They were so cute. Like baby bunnies, huddled for warmth, twitching and readjusting ever so often, like fragile little blind kits. Finally, they were settled into sleep.

Patton stood, loosening his fall clothing to accommodate his fuller form. He shifted, his ears morphing outward and filling out with fur. His knees reversed with a satisfying pop and his claws burst from his digits. His lithe frame filled out with all sorts of muscles humans didn’t have, ligaments, tendons, even bone, his dull teeth sharpening and extending, the rows further back pulling up into his gums for later use. His eyes were last, pupils lengthening and iris filling its whites, flaring with a brilliant blue glow. He was a Patton again. He sighed with relief before turning to his prey. He sat next to them and studied, them closely, brainstorming his options.

Logan seemed persistent on leaving the next day at noon. That wasn’t nearly enough time to nurse them all back to health and harvest what he needed from them. But if he tried to keep them they’d be suspicious and may leave anyway. He sighed. There was really only one option, and it would really just be harder for everyone. But it was the only way to keep them indefinitely.

Patton scavenged through a box of materials with which he used to set traps for his prey. He pulled out a coil of nylon rope he’d reinforced with natural fibers. For larger prey, deer and the like. He got to work carefully maneuvering around his houseguests, securing the rope to metal hooks used to dry clothes in front of the fireplace. He looped and cut it an a way that he had three ends, and six short spare pieces. He first bound each of their ankles, then their wrists. He surveyed his work. He felt a pang of guilt for securing them in such an uncomfortable way, but he couldn’t risk them escaping. He finished by tying a simple slipknot around each of their necks. That way he wouldn’t have to worry about his materials being weak. They’d tighten at the slightest struggle, far before being pulled tight enough to break.

Once he was finished, he sat cross-legged in front of them, watching. He blinked in curiosity. They were embracing one another, even in their sleep, ever so often shifting to hold one another tighter, the corners of their mouths twitching upward slightly. They were content, comforted, by one another’s presence. A foreign aroma enveloped Patton, something he’d never once smelled before. He’d definitely know if he had before. It was like happiness but... richer. Fuller. His fangs dripped saliva. It was something he never knew he needed until then. His new goal, he needed them healthy, and he needed them feeling that. The goal; that’s what he’d call this new emotion.

Patton awoke the next morning to a shout. He lifted his head from his spot curled on his mattress.

"What’s going on?! Logan!” Virgil was awake. Patton gasped and shifted quickly, hiding his inhuman extremities.

"Hm...?” Logan blinked awake. Patton peered around the thick rock wall between his living and sleeping areas.

“What...? What is this?!” Roman was up now. “Hey! What happened? Why can’t I-“ He yanked at the ropes. “Where are... who...” He looked around. The others yanked at their restraints, panicked. Patton took a breath. They wouldn’t really care to see him at the moment, that he knew, but he couldn’t allow the confusion and panic to continue at the rate it was.

"Shhh, calm down, calm down, everything is fine.” He crept out from his hiding spot. Three heads swiveled to face him, a mixture of fear, panic, and anger. He had to hold back from gagging at the putrid, sour aroma.

"Who are you?! Let us go!” Virgil kicked and snarled.

"Well that’s a funny question... I’m Patton! I could’ve sworn I told you.”

"Who are you really you psychopath?! Why are we tied up?!”

"Oh! Oh. Don’t worry, it’s just because Logan had said you three were leaving at noon and that wasn’t enough time.”

“Enough time for what? You’re insane!” He wouldn’t calm down. Patton could taste his bitter, rotten rage on the back of his tongue.

"Shh, it’s okay, I promise I’m not insane. Just hungry.” Logan blinked, his mouth twisting into an uneasy expression.

“Hungry...?”

"Aren’t you excited?” Patton smiled warmly. “It’s your turn to join the circle!”

"The circle...? You’re making no sense.” Logan squinted. Patton took his guest's glasses off the coffee table and pushed them gingerly onto his nose. Logan blinked in surprise.

"There. You can see.” Patton sat in front off the three cross legged, placing his hands in his lap. “Do humans not know the circle?”

"Humans...? What are you?” Roman raised a brow.

"Or what does his crazy mind THINK he is...” Virgil mumbled, eyeing Patton with a seething hatred.

"I’m a Patton! Not quite human. Actually pretty far from it. But I feel like I think like you do. Which is why I think you may be able to understand. To get where I’m coming from.”

"Bullshit! Cut the jokes! Why do you really want us?” Virgil wasn’t having it. Patton sighed.

"I can show you I’m not lying. If you promise not to be afraid.”

"Yes! Show us!” Roman was interested. Patton liked him.

"Yes, let’s see.” Logan was skeptical, but intrigued. Virgil didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. Patton could sense his aura of fear, rage, skepticism. He began shifting.

As he did, he felt his guests fear and disbelief curl his tongue and dry his saliva. Screams, shouts, gasps. But this was just another step. Finished, he looked down at the three. He smiled at them with his carnivorous teeth.

"See? I wouldn’t lie to you.” He let the three finish their little freak out.

"What are you?! How?!” Logan looked him up and down.

"Woah...” Roman was staring blankly, unsure of how to react.

"You said you were hungry...?” The softest voice came from Virgil. Where there was once rage, there was now a cold, rigid fear. Patton refused to spit, though he felt like he was chewing batteries.

"Yep. I needed something sustainable before my hibernation and wouldn’t you know it, you three came along at just the right time. I’ve never had human. You seem so emotionally intelligent and mature... I’m so excited! Aren’t you?! You’ll be joining the circle!” Virgil had his face hidden in his hood. Logan was rubbing his back. The latter spoke:

“What is this ‘circle’ you keep mentioning?”

"The circle of life! It’s so so beautiful.” Virgil whimpered and the others gulped.

"So we should be excited to die?” A deep worry line appeared between romans well groomed brows.

“No.” Patton chuckled. “You should be excited to contribute.”

“So you want to eat us?” Logan seemed collected but Patton could sense his fear.

"Not all of you don’t worry! Just your hearts. It won’t hurt even a little bit and you’ll look just fine after, I promise, I’m real good at it.” He gave a toothy smile, but the reassurances didn’t seem to have done much. Virgil was breathing quickly like he’d just finished chasing something though he hadn’t moved in hours. Patton tipped his head as Logan struggled to normalize his pack member’s breathing.

"Are you okay? Do you need water?” Logan looked up. He was afraid but Patton could sense that if his trust had been more developed he would say yes. Patton rose to his seven foot stature, drawing some yelps from his prey, and went to fetch a cup at the rain barrel.

He sighed while collecting his thoughts. He knew he had to lie to build initial trust, but it made him feel lousy when he had to then be honest, and the shock of the reveal shattered a large portion of the already formed trust. This task was proving to be more difficult than he’d initially expected. He’d expected them to have similar values to him. If he’d been selected to feed another creature he’d be accepting and grateful for the opportunity. They’d been raised in the wrong mindset. The wrong environment. He’d have to teach them.

Patton returned to the three with a large glass of water. He held it out to the trembling Virgil. He flinched back, staring in horror at the lengthy claws wrapping the cup. Patton retracted his arm slightly. His claws drew in and his fingers squirmed against the glass until they were harmless human paws. Virgil seemed disgusted, but at least not as fearful, as he took the glass quickly.

Patton sat silently as Logan assisted his friend in calming himself, counting in unusual intervals as he took in breaths. Roman held his friend’s hand and gently petted it with his thumb as his breathing evened. Patton’s ears twitched as he tracked Virgil’s breaths until they slowly became regular. The whole scene was incredibly endearing, like a mother bear caring for her young. And it was there again.

The unknown emotion enveloped Patton, warming him and holding him and coercing drool down his fangs. But he caught himself. The fear was still there. They weren’t enough yet.

"Don’t worry.” He kept his voice empathetic and even. “I’ll prepare you far ahead of time, I won’t take you by any sort of surprise. You have days at least. I’ll make sure you’re happy by the time you go. That’s my mission! To teach you my thoughts about all of this! Of course, of course you’re scared, and I’m very very sorry. I’d be scared too, but the point isn’t that you’re going away, it’s that you’re staying, and you’re staying as something big, and beautiful, and warm, and happy... You’re feeding into something great and something magical. Doesn’t that sound breathtaking?” Patton’s eyes were bright and full of wonder as he scanned his guests faces for any form of realization or excitement. They were looking back at him with fear and confusion.

"We’re in our late twenties. We’re not near old enough to be excited to die.” Logan spoke clearly and objectively. Patton tipped his head curiously.

"How old do you have to be? The best prey is perfect when it’s in its prime. Just like you. Everything is vibrant and strong and exciting.” Virgil chewed his lip and spoke.

“Exactly. And we won’t have time to experience it all.” Patton blinked.

“What do you mean? Emotion isn’t complicated. Most bunnies have felt them all by the time they’re grown up.”

"People emotions are different.”

“Like how?”

“Like how we can learn, and form relationships, and care, and hate, and love... instincts are different from emotions. People have emotions.” Patton was surprised by Virgil’s sudden participation, and with such energy. Though he could hardly understand what he was getting at.

"Animals can be happy and have mates and care about their young an-“

"But did they form those thoughts themselves?” Roman joined. “Or were they born with them? Are they true love and hate and happiness and sadness or are they just for survival?” Patton huffed at the foreign words and concepts.

“I would know. I know what they taste like. Each different emotion. And they’re emotions.” He didn’t like being confused. He wanted so badly to stop talking about it. For some reason the ideas were making him feel nasty, and he wasn’t nasty. He knew that. “What would you like to eat for breakfast?”

"But-“

“No buts! I want to stop talking please.” He smiled, blinking the ickiness away. “I have berries, eggs, veggies of all sorts, I could hunt for you if you want meat... do humans eat meat?”

"I don’t want to die!!!” Virgil pounded his bound feet on the stone floor. “If you cared you’d listen!”

The muscles in Patton’s neck tensed and he felt his hackles rise. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like getting yelled at. At all. He turned to the pack, reflexively pursing his lips at the fearful look they gave him, his hackles, and as he then realized, his now-splayed claws.

He gulped, slowly pulling them back into his fingertips. His hackles laid flat and he felt dampness in his eyes.

"Please don’t stay that... stay with me. Please.”

"We don’t really have a choice do we...?” Virgil mumbled.

"You’re making me feel gross... Please stop...” Patton spoke softly, pleading. He didn’t like the squeezing in his chest.

"Maybe you deserve it then.” It was matter-of-fact. Virgil held Patton’s gaze, strong but apprehensive, as if he were expecting an attack, which only made Patton feel worse.

"I-I.... I don’t... I just need to eat... and I just...” water built in his eyes. Was he sick? His eyes watered sometimes but not nearly this much, and normally from the wind. The air was still.

“Please stop saying those things... please just be happy and understand...it would be easier for everyone if you did.” His breath hitched and he tasted sadness. He looked across his prey. It wasn’t any of them... who was sad? He licked at his lips to get rid of the taste, a salty taste, with a hint of rotting blueberries and raw eggs. The taste of wilted, slimy things. He felt tears roll down his cheeks and onto his lips, making the sadness even saltier. He felt weak. He let himself fall to his knees as he frantically attempted to dry his face with the balls of his palms.

"Please... it’s never been this hard before...” He didn’t dare look up. He knew he’d be met with expressions that would make him feel even worse. His prey was quiet. From what he could tell they had little emotion about the situation. Maybe shock. Or maybe the sadness was drowning them out.

"Shhh...” Patton blinked. He looked up. Roman was watching him, some sort of sympathy in the way he held his expression. “Hush. You’re okay.”

"Roman?” Logan squinted at him. “What are you doing?”

"Helping I think.” He didn’t look away from Patton, continuing to hush him. Virgil watched him with an unreadable expression.

"I’m sorry.” It was quiet, and slightly grudging. Virgil sighed. “Deep breaths. Count it out. I’ll shut up.” Patton filled his lungs and let it out again, continuing the pattern until he could dry his face without more tears wetting it again. The pack watched, unsure of how to react. Patton lifted his head.

“Don’t be sorry... you’re scared. You think a different way. It’s okay.”

“You seem like you have good intentions. You seem nice, just... terrifying.” Virgil grimaced. “You see, where we come from, and as people, we don’t...”

Logan joined in. “In general we don’t romanticize death. It’s overall very negative. As you have survival instincts, we have much more emotion in relation to dying it seems.”

“Its the abrupt end to life, not what life builds to.” Roman nodded as he joined, “it’s the definite rock bottom to any situation.”

Patton furrowed his brows. “But that’s all wrong!”

"Why would it be wrong? Everything you’ve built to ceases and the next step is unknown, and the most scientific situation would be a total and sudden nothingness. It’s terrifying.” Virgil seemed to project his own current emotion into his words, pale and shaking in his delivery.

“That’s not at all what I see in it! We as ourselves aren’t really important. We pass our time growing our minds to emotional maturity until we’re ripe, that’s why life feels so good, but those feelings aren’t for us. They’re for the universe! And when something uses us for energy, some transfers to them and some goes into the bigger picture. That’s why we have to have good lives, so all that good stuff can feed the circle!”

The three seemed confused, but this time they seemed to be trying to understand, which made Patton quite happy.

“Would you be willing to accept...” Roman worked to choose his words carefully. “That we don’t want to be eaten? And leave us be? We’ll work to understand where you’re coming from but as of now, none of us are keen on going just yet.”

Patton gulped slightly. “I suppose... if you’re really so opposed... but I still need something to eat. You three would have been perfect to finish off my haul for hibernation but if I don’t have you, I’ve wasted this time for nothing and I need a whole lot more for my last meal before winter.”

Virgil blinked. “You’d really let us go?”

Patton sighed. “If you really would be so unhappy to be my prey, you won’t do me a lot of good. Besides, I’m starting to like your companionship. Though I’m still not sure if I can afford to let you go.”

"What if,” Logan spoke up, “We helped you? We could help hunt, make ourselves useful. In return you can free us and show us the way to civilization.” Patton smiled.

“Would you really? That would be amazing! Are you sure you can hunt though...? You have no claws or teeth for it...”

"We can learn. And I can use a sword if that’s at all useful.” Romans voice was filled with a sudden determination. Almost excitement.

“A sword?”

"A long sharp stick. For stabbing. A spear would be easier to craft with these resources.” Logan clarified.

“Now... can you let us go? We can’t very well hunt tied up like this.” Virgil quirked an eyebrow. Patton could still taste a dull fear on him. Maybe he was always like that. But he silently expressed his gratitude, considering the bitter aftertaste in his mouth allowed him to curb his temptation to break the deal. He nodded.

"I really am sorry... if Id known it would make you so uncomfortable I wouldn’t have done all this. Please don’t be afraid of me. I won’t eat you, I’m not dangerous, not when I don’t want to be. And I promise I don’t want to be.”

“I don’t know if I can really not be afraid. But I’m not, objectively. Emotionally it’s a bit different.” Virgil raised a brow. “You were planning to eat us a couple minutes ago. But you seem nice. Just different, as a terrifying predator should be. But I can tell you, I’m the least scared of you than I ever thought I'd be being faced with a man eating eldritch beast. So take that as you may.” One corner of his mouth upturned in a way Patton could assume was teasing. He smiled.

"I’ll take it.” He reached for Virgil’s bound wrists with a harmless, sheathed hand and gently untied the rope. He wanted to save it for trap making.

“Can you untie the rest on your own now? It would be faster to help all four then help anyone struggling with a knot.”

"Go ahead.” Virgil rubbed his wrists and hissed. They were a painful red and imprinted with the marks of fibers. Patton grimaced with guilt.

“Here.” He filled a bowl with water and set it by Virgil. “It should help soothe the pain. Nice and cold.” Virgil looked up from the knot on his ankles.

“Thanks.” Patton nodded and proceeded to help the other two pack members.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #thomas sanders

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bxstiae · 5 years ago

Text

HOW I RUN MY BLOG

SPEED: fluctuates on my mood. I’m relatively fast? like usually same day reply fast. sometimes it takes me a few days. know that the long it stays in my drafts, the longer i will take on it. my all time record is about 3 years. while granted it doesn’t take that long, don’t be surprised about it. best case scenario, it takes me a couple of weeks, i dont like having things fester. i also sometimes forget too! you are more than welcome to remind me if it seems like i have but please don’t make it a habit. in regards to response time on pms/discord -- short turnover rate. I usually respond to it within the hour. usually within seconds/minutes actually. if i am awake that is. unless im offline and in my happy place, i tend to log out of discord to get away from people when im overwhelmed. blog wise, i dont have him on my app. so messages are only when im on my laptop or have time to check on chrome mobile.

REPLIES: i dont like drafting them. my dash is slow enough that i can scroll down to it. i will draft it though if i need to. length wise, im an avid writer. i write A LOT. they can get very lengthy at times. i write with a bit of prose -- that prose can get very HEAVY depending on my partners as well. i also format as well. i like heavier formatting without losing the quality of the writing. i dont like one-liners. you will see me with at least two paras or more. please know that i am dyslexic though when it comes to writing, and i have a bad habit of rereading my stuff after i post. so mistakes && errors are a thing for me. i try to catch it when i am rereading as im going through to format the posts. but sometimes things get missed. you are more than welcome to fix some if it is a bad spelling mistake ( better to ask first tho cause i spell with a brit keyboard -- and i specifically choose certain words to be spelt a specific way. )

STARTERS: when i post the starter call, any mutual ( && i really mean ANY of you ) can like it. this goes for if you follow me on multiple blogs. we interact already on one blog? by all means we can interact with one another on your other blog. but if you do, it gives me free reign to do whatever i want. look for my tags to see what i say too. they usually are a key factor in regards to my thought process. i try to get everybody done within reasonable time. dont worry i will never not make a mutual a starter if they like the call. i usually go for the first interaction/meeting with the muse though. if that doesn’t float your boat then you can message me about it. i normally don’t message people in regards to starters because A) im tired, B) i expect you to come to me.

INBOX: inbox is absolutely open to anybody! in fact, if i post a prompt, i ask that you send something in. even if we never interacted! im more versed into throwing the muse into a pre-established relationship. with the inbox, i will sometimes go to you because of that. i really do love to write, && the inbox is a perfect way to send something in without having any strings attached in regards to replies. like i said im an avid writer. i always want to write. sometimes people are slow and i get that. since im faster, i have no problem in doing inbox stuff for you to develop interaction ( aside from plotting ). best way to actually enjoy character interaction for me tbh. cause sometimes threading be hard okay?

SELECTIVITY: i am biased, i will say it now. i have preference over people i talk to ( who i consider my friends ), or people that i like. but that doesnt mean i will blatantly ignore you. people should know that if you talk to me, then the chances are i will give you more attention. sometimes i just click or vibe with people okay? in regards to following. i am on the heavy side of mutuals only and i prefer a slower dash. i give about a week for people to follow back, or ample enough time for them to follow. there will be some people that i will be fine if they arent mutuals though as i like their content. that being said, i try to be super fair to everybody. i give people an equal chance. if i follow you it means i want to interact with you ( there are super rare exceptions ). but go too long without interacting, then i will unfollow/softblock. im not a number for you. i have feelings. and, yes, i will, at random, unfollow those who either dont make me comfortable anymore, or i need time away from them. or im just not getting that vibe anymore.

WISHLIST: see here && here for some stuff i want. i love his pokemon verse i have. i also love his FE verse i have as well. i have a FE3H AU as well but i will naturally throw him into FEH or FE3H for that verse. i have plotted with a friend in regards to an echoes verse as well. honestly. i just want a lot of stuff for him. i want more wolf interactions. i kinda favour his beast forme anyway. but i also want interactions with the language differences. there is a language barrier with him! but i want those interactions cause he understands you! i have that hc somewhere dug in my blog. gotta find it. other interactions? i want a midna to interact with. link && the links AU?? also what does a man gotta do around here to get people to discuss plots.

HONEST NOTE: if you think im an elitist, then find your way out of the door -- youre probably right and i dont want you here. ive been here for a really long time && i know what i want. all jokes aside though, im tired of people being intimidated by me for different reasons. some people think its my aesthetic ( when really im not that bad ). others are intimidated by the sheer amount of writing i do? like okay?? kindly fuck off please. i write for stress relief. i write to have fun. my idea of fun is writing a lot. if you have a problem with that then sorry but i dont want you here. i have a passion for my muses and if you dont want to hear it, then i dont have time for your complaining. theres an unfollow button. i have a journalism degree so... yea. but really. im just really tired okay. im actually a very sweet person and i wear my heart on my sleeve. anybody who knows me well enough can tell you that. i hate being ignored tbh, so if i find energy && time to like talk to you, at least acknowledge me by saying thank you. btw im not really that much of an an elitist -- i just LOOK like i have a hard shell, but im actually super soft and squishy.

Tagged by: nobody I stole from @pristinette Tagging: you do you fam. just @ me as per usual cause pretend i tagged you.

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edzasks · 6 years ago

Note

The shirt Courtney is wearing is different yo the personalized one Sarah is wearing. I don’t know about a necklace but he has spent a lot of money on doing stuff with her. I’m just saying Zac has put a lot of trust in her very quickly it seems. He only knew her since November but she was staying at his in December already but then at Sundance he was liek be careful who you trust. Like he’s trusted her so soon and so much with everything that’s why it comes to me like dating but idk

Okay, this is going to be my last-forever commentary on this subject and I’m being serious, I’m going to stop answering questions about her until she pops up again cause it’s pointless and I’m tired of it. Whether he’s dating her or not, honestly who cares. Though here’s my actual opinion on it and I’m going to cut the bullshit and not hide like last time because I was afraid of getting hate so I zipped it. A blog wrote out why they don’t think so, I’ll just copy and paste most of what they said on here. Buckle up, cause this shit is long.

I do not think they’re dating for a variety of reasons, the main one being Alexandra Daddario. When Sarah was with him and he came out of surgery, who was he thinking of? Alexandra. His speech was slurring as well, so he obviously had to take medication even asking where Alexandra’s whereabouts and missing her while showing a framed photo of them. You’d think if he was dating Sarah, why would he ever have another girl on his mind when his ‘girlfriend’ is right by his side, and if he’s so “madly in love with her” which every anon says… Fresh out of surgery, again why is he thinking about Alex and misses her asking where’s her @ if he has his GF?

I also do not find it a coincidence that Sarah is has massive blue eyes and tall, who does that remind you of? …… C’mon.

For the other reasons I do not think they’re dating is just basic timing, age, and or whatever. His love-life is none of my business. If you want my honesty, I feel like the BIGGEST bitch talking about it too. I hate talking about it. I need to stop answering anon’s about it.

Anyway, I do not ever think he’s going to hop into a relationship when he just said all that, (”be careful who you trust.”) It sounds like his last relationship really fucked him up. Poor guy has been through hell it seems, it makes no sense for him to trust a girl asap and be like, “we’re madly in love!”

Secondly how does that even work? The guy is filming in May in New Orleans (maybe somewhere else), is Sarah going to keep flying out every 2 weeks just to see her ‘bf’? Especially when he’s working? Let’s talk common sense here, why would she move to LA with him when she’s a Denmark swimmer? Swimmers have team, she’s an Olympic athlete, is she going to throwaway her entire career, JUST to date Zac? How does that work? Their whole relationship would be long-distance barely seeing one another, I don’t think Zac is the long-distance type, hate to say it. Look at how he was with Sami and Vanessa, he’s always with his gf’s.

He was never alone with Sarah either. Always with friends, always in a group. Reminds me of Pete and Ariana. Ariana never alone with Pete like kids. Her sister also does the same thing as her, she was aboard in SA I was told for the same amount of time Sarah was for her swimming career too, so just cause she was in LA, means nothing.

I just can’t understand why a man and a woman cannot be friends. If he’s dating her, then let it come naturally, not stalking her page every minute of the day. It’s not fair to him, her, or whatever. They did the same shit with Alex and it turns out Alex friendzoned the shit out of Z.

Anyway, the idea of Dylan liking her stuff doesn’t mean anything either. Dylan follows Alex and likes all of Alex’s photos.

So yeah that being said, I don’t really gaf if I’m wrong or right, whether the fuck people say on Twitter, at this point I’m actually tired as fuck hearing about Sarah because I feel like the biggest bitch going on about his dating life and that’s the truth. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Y’all gotta stop holding an internet gun to my head though, fuck, who even cares? The guy is going to be an Oscar nominee soon, why is a chick nobody knows anything about the priority? COME ON?

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #holy shit my outfit tonight is on point #an essay #im sorry #if you want to hate on me go for it #idec anymore

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seenashwrite · 6 years ago

Text

Failing Grace

Status: Complete Word Count: No idea, it doesn’t matter in these situations Category: Continuation, Humor, Satire, Reader Insert Spoof, Pseudo-script format, Snark Rating: (Older) Teen & up Character(s): Dean, Faux!Nash, a Y/N, the usual Pairings: Sweet babby jeebus, no Warning(s): Mild-to-moderate coarse language; Mild sexual references; Spit-take potential; Hurt fee-fees potential Author’s Note(s): You need to take a few minutes to catch up on The Nope Saga, or you’re going to have no clue what’s going on; this is what “There But For The Grace” began as; cleaning out drafts so here we are; satire is not to be taken as an attack on Y/N or any other writer personally; any similarity to any *specific* fic is purely coincidental; more post-story Overall Summary: We are mid-summer, things are heating up, sounds like there’s a need for some Freeze. Mother-frakkin’. Frame. Overall Summary Disclaimer: That is a complete lie.

In a nondescript town in a nondescript state in a coffee shop crafted lovingly by fanfic authors, in a small booth in the farthest corner from the door sits A WOMAN, legs crossed, head down, scrolling through phone, occasionally sipping on a mocha-something-something which the BARISTA, who bears a striking resemblance to some character from something-or-other, has prepared. Er, crafted. Lovingly.

We begin our story as the bell above the door jingles...

[A MAN in Peaky Blinders cosplay enters a coffee shop, glances around, makes a beeline for a booth, sits, utters a somewhat timid greeting to its occupant, a woman, NASH, who does not acknowledge him, though he gives a thanks for agreeing to meet him; there's some fidgeting, definite dread, now the hat is making his scalp sweat, and his tie is too tight, and is it warm in here, why is the heat on in July, are they insane, they serve hot coffee, this isn't difficult]

[Nash scrolls on. The foot of the leg which is crossed bobs in anger. Cheeks flush. Jaw clamps.]

[WAITRESS approaches. She is visibly taken to loins-town on account of MAN]

Waitress: Um. [giggles softly] Can I ----

Nash: [doesn't look up] No.

Waitress: But he ----

Nash: [still scrolling] Isn't thirsty.

Waitress: Like, um, so, are you two ----

Nash: [not a glance] Go find some whipped cream to squirt, W'Hye-Enne.

W'Hye-Enne: [blinks in surprise, glances down at nametag pinned to hefty bosom, then back to Nash] How did you know the way my name ----

Nash: [aggressively scrolling now] You are legion. Leave my presence immediately, my skills in character development bottom out when any of you stand this close.

W'Hye-Enne: [pouts because she is twelve, looks to MAN for assist; he is fussing with his hair, following the strategic placing of his hat upon the table away from anything that might slosh upon it; she stomps away]

Nash: [continues to be very focused on scrolling] Well. Dean. You've been a busy bee. Bat. Sugar glider. Pigeon.

Dean: [exhales loudly] Whew. Oh, good. Okay. I didn't know if you'd recognize me when you saw me. 'Cause, you know... trying out this new look and all.

Nash: [slowly raises a flat gaze to meet his eyes, which are absolutely not glowing] No worries there, I recognized your voice, even through the whatever-that-is you're doing with it when you called ----

Dean: [mild groan] Seriously? I'll work on it.

Nash: ---- and you still look like you, even with the new duds, Discount Tom Hardy.

Dean: No, don't call me Tom - when we're out in public, call me Michael. [pause] Hey, wait a sec. Why'd you call me by my name in the first place? Aren't you staying on top of the documentaries? [glances around, whispers] The last few parts have been kind've a big deal.

Nash: [sets phone to side, slams tightly clasped hands onto table top, leans over on forearms so her hissed response may be clearly heard by the target of her considerable ire] Why'd you call me here? Risk pulling me into another active fic after that last fiasco with Sam?

Dean: This isn’t a fic, one dumb waitress ----

Nash: She responded to the name! Dammit, Dean! We had a deal.

Dean: [chuckles] That's funny, I just said that the other night to -----

Nash: Uh-huh. I know. Boy howdy, do I know. Motherfucking.... I can't even.... I don't know where to.... I just....

Dean: Hey, you're not the only one that's caught up. 'Cause speaking of calling me what you should be calling me, since you know I'm undercover ----

Nash: [scathingly sarcastic] Oh, bang-up job, Boardwalk Empire, you totes blend in.

Dean: ---- I read all that stuff you wrote, and I knew you were mean, but damn, Nash! I'll be honest, my feelings almost got hurt, with all the insults!

Nash: [clutches at non-existent pearls] Well my stars, Dean, not your fee-fees! Which one did it? Redneck Neo?

Dean: [gives Nash a look]

Nash: Mickey Dean: Ba da ba ba bah, he's suckin' it! - that one?

Dean: [sits back, crosses arms, glares, not even a hint of blue orbing]

Nash: Demon!Dean, Part Two: Oh, THIS Shtick Again?

Dean: Are you trying to be a bitch?

Nash: Does this seem like an attempt, Wank Beneath My Wings?

Dean: [rolls eyes, sighs] Look, I need some advice, and I thought you'd wanna get in on that action, 'cause you like seeing me get myself in trouble, then telling me how I'm wrong, don't you?

Nash: [considers; sits back and crosses arms as well] I'm listening.

Dean: So this is.... this is weird. It's not like the usual stuff. The bang fests. I mean, I'm sure that'll come up, I'm working this look, you gotta admit. [wiggles eyebrows, winks]

Nash: .....

Dean: .....

Nash: .....

Dean: [clears throat] And, uh, I can deal with that, you taught us how to get out of those stories, and thanks by the way, I haven't thanked you enough, really, for how awesome you are, in general, not for that or how you totally came through for me - for Sam - this last time, that was.... was.... um....

Nash: [stares]

Dean: Yeah, so, see, Michael, he's not exactly what everybody.... he comes across as a real hard-ass. You know, everything's black and white, humanity's wrecked the gifts we were given, the earth needs purifying. He's a jumbo-size salt-and-burner, if you wanna get right down to it.

Nash: Except we're alive.

Dean: Heh. Yeah. Not a "big picture" guy. And he did lie, nobody's surprised - the whole thing about giving me my body back, 'course he wouldn't. [sly grin] 'Cause, hey, why would he, amirite?

Nash: [stare, part deux]

Dean: Not even one compliment. Not a-one.

Nash: Nope.

Dean: I'm not at all attractive to you? I've seen what other stuff you've written about me ----

Nash: [groans at Dean, and not in the good way] Enough with the blog stalking, all right?

Dean: ---- AAAAND if what you say is true, which it ain't, about this being Demon!Me again, then you're lying to yourself. You liked me when I was doing... doing demon... being demony.

Nash: Oh, Demon!Dean can Get It.

Dean: [all the looks, all the incredulous, makes big sweeping gestures at himself]

W'Hye-Enne: [scurries over] Were you waving at me to come and ----

Dean and Nash: No.

W'Hye-Enne: [huffs, turns, spots BARISTA, who is apparently off work and is presently sitting at a table, gazing out the window, mightily brooding; she hesitates; looks to Dean; looks back; looks to Dean again; completely ignores Nash] Still, if you want me to ----

Nash: [with a look that bores deep through W'Hye-Enne’s soul] I have a gun.

Dean: [frowns at Nash] You do?

Nash: [tilts head at purse sitting on table, not breaking eye contact with W'Hye-Enne even a little]

[W'Hye-Enne’s eyes widen; she reverse-scurries to the other table without another word]

Dean: [slides purse closer] You've upgraded. It's bigger than the last one.

Nash: Bigger gun.

Dean: [unzips, looks inside; grins approvingly at flask; inspects gun; brings head up to gaze upon Nash, forlorn] 'S my gun.

Nash: Not anymore. It was all alone in the bunker, stuck in a random drawer, next to your mom's long-abandoned, yet fully-charged cell phone. It needed a good home.

Dean: You put it in a pink holster? Where does somebody even get a pink holster?

Nash: I'm not giving the gun back.

Dean: [zips purse, pushes away, mutters] But.... I kinda.... I might need a gun.

Nash: What does an archangel sword need with a gun? [a pause] Shit, that's not half-bad, I need to write that down.

Dean: Sounds too much like "What does God need with a starship". Unless it's an homage.

Nash: Nah, pass. It's too close. You're right.

Dean: [shit eating grin©℗™] Now we're gettin' somewhere.

Nash: We're getting nowhere. Speaking of nowhere - Where. Is. Michael?

Dean: He's... I guess you could say, caught in a fantasy. For him it's a fantasy, with all the raining hellfire down.

Nash: How'd you manage that? Nice little witchy trick? Making deals with djinn?

Dean: Trick, yeah, witch, bleeerrrgh. And no deals. Like I say, Michael’s not exactly what people think, he’s not playing with a full deck.

Nash: He’s dumb?

Dean: More gullible. Anyway, Gabriel was happy to help - I mean, Loki, Gabriel, either way you slice it, he loves doing that crap. Oh yeah, he's not really dead ---

[Dean and Nash in unison]: --- because of course he's not ---

Dean: --- and he's the only one we've got that can distract Michael, stick him on a hamster wheel, let him run til he gets worn out. Last I heard, dude thinks he's taken out Florida with some meteor-sinkhole action.

Nash: ....

Dean: ....

Nash: I meeeaaaan.....

Dean: [nods] Agreed. But Daytona's treated me right in the past, can't lie.

Nash: [eyes Dean carefully, thoughts brewing like coffee, which is a stupid analogy, adding to the signs of danger that may surround them]

Dean: [sighs] What'd I say?

Nash: You needed a vacation, didn't you?

Dean: [slight batting of lashes, widens non-glowing eyes innocently] What? Why would you think that?

Nash: Holy shitsnacks, I'm right.

Dean: Now, wait - don't get all judgy, Michael did have me by the berries for a minute there.

Nash: I still can't believe you just cut out! Not that your whole beach scenario didn't sound great, y'all deserve a break, but jeez, Dean!

Dean: Think about it: I knew Sam wasn't gonna die -----

[Dean and Nash in unison] ---- because of course he wasn't -----

Dean: ----- even though Lucifer's not really dead ----

[Dean and Nash in unison] ---- because of course he isn't ----

Nash: [in brief, but mandatory follow-up interruption] Hashtag-Fuck-Dabb, unoriginal basic boy-bitch.

Dean: I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but if he's got anything to do with our lives being kinda weird yet somehow predictable this last year or so, I agree with you, and Fuck Dabb.

[Dean and Nash look to THE READER in kinship, breaking fourth wall, though they do not freeze frame]

Dean: Anyway, even though Luci'll turn up, I'm betting it won't be right away, you know? And Sam's probably so torqued up, well, I'll kinda feel sorry for our resident Satan.

Nash: [nods] If this is Demon!Dean v2.0, then I've got my fingers crossed Sam will be in BAMF mode, 'cause goddamn, there was this brief window of time where the both of you were just [chef's kiss] It was a sight to behold.

Dean: [wicked smile]

Nash: I'm not apologizing or making excuses for being swoony during that part. THAT PART. But what about Jack? He looooooves you guys, he's jonesing to have a go at Mikey, so...?

Dean: The kid's wearing me out, every day we're starting from scratch, it's like he's got fucking Memento disease.

Nash: You ripped that from Mulaney.

Dean: [barks out his stellar riposte loudly] I'M HOMAGING

[PATRONS stop their conversations, shocked, turning heads toward Dean and Nash]

Nash: [smiles sweetly at them] But no worries! Doctor says it's almost run its course. [PATRONS go back to their chatter; Nash goes back to Dean] That's not homage, that's a dead-to-rights lift from a great writer, and add it to the list of reasons I think we're in a fic!

Dean: [slight pause] So, we might be in a fic.

Nash: [puts hand on purse, begins to slide out of booth] I am gone-baby-gone.

Dean: [grabs her wrist] Wait, how? How are you gonna ----

Nash: You think I don’t have a contingency plan after that last ass-disaster of an adventure you drug me on?

Dean: [leans in close, whispers] It wasn’t all bad. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about that kiss! You know you do. Say it.

Nash: [also leans in; real close; real-REAL close; nearly touches her lips to his; gives the entirety of his face the ol’ once-over; does not look up at him through lashes because this is physically impossible; waits a few beats]

Dean: [trembles slightly; holds breath]

Nash: [through barely parted lips] Nooooope.

Dean: [possibly a slight pout; definitely with The Face as he leans back; he does remember to exhale the breath he did not forget he was holding]

Nash: Get to it. What's the issue?

Dean: It's this thing I've never done before, and I've done a lot.

Nash: [slight frown] I thought you said the bumping nasties hadn't kicked in yet.

Dean: [shakes head] No, this doesn't have anything to do with that. At least, it shouldn't.

Nash: [eye roll, possibly exasperated; scratch that - absolutely exasperated] Why you won't hear me on this is unreal: anything can happen in fic.

Dean: Well.... anybody ever have me freeze?

Nash: Define "freeze".

Dean: Freeze! I just stop. And I'm not doing it. It's random, the stopping - and I mean full stop, people running into me, cars swerving - and I smirk and look off to the side, and I can't move, can't even blink, and did I mention the glowy shit that still pops up sometimes?

Nash: [puzzled; touch of worry; this comes up later] Ah, no, you did not.

Dean: Dries my eyes out like you wouldn't believe, the black demon stuff was so moisturizing, I didn’t have under-eye bags, I swear my eyelashes got thicker ----

Nash: [snaps fingers] The freezing!

Dean: Right, right. Happened at a urinal the other day, so that was real fun, zipper down, junk out for fifteen minutes. And last week? In Ikea?

Nash: In. Ikea.

Dean: Hours, Nash. Hours. And on the street, women keep stopping and taking selfies with me, some of 'em complained about the woo eyes blowing out their phones. Ingrates. And some... some of them.... [trails off, legit blushes]

Nash: Yes?

Dean: They copped a feel.

Nash: [grins]

Dean: Really?

Nash: Sorry, I just... you think fic writers are making you do that, with the stopping and staring?

Dean: Um, it's me doing something not-me, so that was my guess.

Nash: N-no. That's... even the writers who turn you into... that's... uh-uh. You're no good to them standing still. At least your pelvis has to move.

Dean: [with a look] No way you've read everything out there, somebody coulda made me a mannequin or something, so ----

Nash: You ain't tracking with me, here. I saw you walking that first time, in the, ah, documentaries. Didn't exactly start hearing the Bee Gees in the background, but there's swagger happening. [frowns briefly, pondering, mutters to self] Why am I complimenting him? [shakes self out of it] I'm trying to tell you: by and large, that whole thing with the camera stare, it was not of the sexy, the full-body Botox routine, and ----

Dean: [holds up hand] Hang on. What camera?

Nash: [legit perplexed, though not speechless] Listen, there's some real shit-the-bed stories out there with you and Sam acting in ways that are just beyond recognition -----

Dean: Gee, you don't say!

Nash: ----- but I assure you, even the ones that can't manage to have you cruise down a sidewalk without describing every crack aren't making you do that! And 'what camera?' WHAT CAMERA?! It's the show--- I MEAN! ---the, uh, documentary people! You didn't see them?

Dean: No. I never see them. They're sneaky.

[Nash's jaw drops, stays that way; Dean reaches out, pushes chin up to close mouth; does not stay that way long]

Nash: You. Looked. Right. At. The. Lens.

Dean: Wait a sec - you think the documentary people are somehow making me.... Ohhh! [eyes widen, zero neon present] Are they spirits or something? And that's why I never see them? They're invisible? 'Cause if it's not the fic writers, then... you think it's the documentary crew dicking around, possessing me?

Nash: [frustrated, fists clenching, blurts out response] Grrrrr.... NO they aren't spirits! It's not THEM! it's the WRITERS!

Dean: [nods excitedly, eyes sparkling with said excitement, but Are. Not. Glowing. And if they did, it'd be something more interesting than plain ol' angel blue, since this is neither an ordinary angel, nor a typical situation] Duh, that's what I've been saying! The fanfic writers!

Nash: Not the fanfic --- nevermind. [sighs; regroups; tries to think of something as is not ready to go down the PS: You Don’t Exist road] It could be seizures.

Dean: It's not seizures.

Nash: Why am I here if you're not going to ---

Dean: Sorry, sorry, okay - what else can make me freeze up? And don't say ice cream, or catching Sam shaking hands with the milkman, or the prospect of banging you, or ----

Nash: [raises eyebrow, puts hand on purse, begins to scoot out of booth]

Dean: [clamps a strong, slightly calloused, warm, thick-fingered hand atop hers, squeezing gently] No! Don't go!

Nash: [stares down at hand; Dean is now holding it; rubs thumb over her knuckles; it does not seem off-putting in the slightest; this visibly concerns her]

Dean: Please?

Nash: [looks up, finds her tummy flutters at the desperate-yet-dashing expression on that mug]

Dean: [eyes inexplicably greener, possibly glassy] I need you.

Nash: [scoots back in, but glances up, over, around the coffee shop] Something's not right.

Dean: Maybe you're... maybe you’re not wrong, maybe we are in some sort of fic, but I'm not the lead, I'm positive, it's been two months of nothing.

Nash: You can never be sure of that, Gatsby. The second you let your guard down ----

Dean: Who are you talking to, here? I KNOW I screwed up last time, but I'm sure - how do you explain the waitress, huh? No way we'd be able to keep her at bay if she's supposed to be whining to me or riding me or fluffing me... hey, do you think those writers are aware of what fluffing means, because -----

Nash: [eyeing the heavy flirting going down between the not-Velma and not-Hawkeye across the room] It's starting to look an awful lot like a cross-over, Dean, I'm not kidding. And if I'm some throw-away chick that's gonna be the fourth wheel to a threesome, that's not good. At all. Case fics are one thing, pairings are another. I could get really hurt.

Dean: Not a chance, not while I got your back. Your front. Whole thing, I got you.

Nash: And I’ve got the urge extend my leg and run your jewels.

Dean: [ignoring Nash, natch] If it is what’s happening, and that's a big if, it'd mean you and I are.... and we're not... we'd never.... we'd probably just.... No. No, we'd never.

Nash: [with a look] We. Are. Holding. HANDS.

[Dean and Nash jerk hands away, stare at one another]

Dean: .....

Nash: .....

Dean: We'd be good at it, no doubt.

Nash: Oh, of course! We're awesome on our own ---

Dean: Heh.

Nash: [with bonus look] I mean with other people. Besides us hating each other, it's for the safety of the world that we shouldn't, above all.

Dean: We'd rock the foundation of the very universe.

Nash: Talk about apocalypses.

Dean: Damn right.

Nash: So, speaking of that... you got bigger problems than going ice princess. Even if you're headed off to the Bahamas, or Mexico, or the Redneck Riviera, there's something you should know about. Because it won't matter how far you go, it'll find you, and it's... it's pretty concerning.

Dean: It freaks me out when you get sincere.

Nash: It's not anything you'd go looking for in the blogs, and it's not something you've faced before. At least, I don't think. [frowns briefly, thinking] I mean, we are talking fic, here. But this usually falls to Luci and Gabe and Gaddy and Cas. Oh my biscuits, poor ol' Cas.

Dean: [wary] You're actually scaring me. This is me, scared.

Nash: Angels leave residuals inside you, right?

Dean: Is that some sort of euphemism?

Nash: Grace, dipshit. I'm talking grace. Glowy-woozy stuff. You said your eyes have still gone woo every now and then, yeah?

Dean: Yeah....

Nash: So even though Mikey's off in inception land, he must've left some in you. And that's bad. Especially since the fic writers don't know about your whole switch-hit. Nobody knows much about Mikey, he's a badass blank slate, he could be anything, and they're gonna use that. By way of you.

Dean: Use?

Nash: [deep breath, exhales, no forgets] It's called the Grace Kink.

Dean: [chuckles] Jeez, you had me worried. Listen, the kinky ones can actually be fun, so don't ----

Nash: [shakes head slowly] You don't understand. If you think you've been exhausted by the sex before? This is raw-doggin' on a whooooole 'nother level.

[Nash proceeds to explain Grace Kink to the best of her ability; pulls up a few examples on her phone; Dean takes Nash’s flask from her purse without asking, excuses himself to go outside for some air; Nash gets another latte; Dean freeze-frames for approximately ten minutes; a squirrel climbs him and perches atop his head for three of them; Nash tries on his hat, admires herself as is totes cute; the squirrel leaps off as Dean unfreezes, batting it away; it does not fly; Nash appreciates this irony; Dean returns, draining flask as he walks; still flustered, he pours remaining liquor into the latte, gulps down most of it, also without asking; he snatches his hat from Nash’s head]

Dean: [putting on hat] So what did you mean earlier? About having a contingency plan?

Nash: Tiff.

Dean: [brightens] Oh, yeah, Tiff! She gives good... fic. How's she doing?

Nash: [picks up phone, opens messages] Ah, yes - well, she's curious as to why, when the Michael possession kicked in, you didn't crank off a line dance while Vincent Price cackled in the background.

Dean: [sneery] I know what you're doing. You're trying to make me fight so you'll disappear before you can help me.

Nash: [undeterred] Oh, right. Not that Michael. Our mistake. The Otter Pop weaksauce eyefuck action should've given it away.

Dean: [steamy as that latte once was] I. Don't. Give. Weak. Eyefuck.

At this, a surprisingly low-volume yet vitriolic verbal match of wits and sometimes not-so-much with the wits occurs, of such proportion and length, our story now arrives at the point of closing time - the coffee shop has cleared, tables are bussed, the floor is being swept, lights are being turned off, and our foes remain in flagrante--- er, in fight mode.

Nash: ....and Shakespeare said "eat me"? Eat me?! Shakespeare has so many zingers. And you whiffed.

Dean: I was under pressure, specifically in the throat area, and what, you've got all of Shakespeare memorized!?

Nash: No! No, I don't! But EAT ME?! What about, "As Shakespeare once said, sit and spin"? Got some alliteration, rolls off the tongue, might be a touch spitty, but you were sputtering anyway, and.... why are you looking at me like that?

Dean: You haven't disappeared. We've been going at it for an hour, and you're still here.

Nash: [stunned] Shit.

Dean: Just stay, for the rest of the summer, please? So you can write me out of whatever crap I get pulled into? I'm good at plenty, I guess I'm just not good at this. I'm asking for help, and I'm not good at that either, so... will you think about it?

Nash: [glances around; W'Hye-Enne and her victim are nowhere to be seen, likely in the back room banging; looks to Dean] This part's not fic.

Dean: No, it's not. Because otherwise I'd suddenly need your help for shit I'm perfect at, right? I'm being serious, here.

Nash: What if... what if the documentaries pick up again, before the fall, and Tiff can't figure how to... what if it somehow traps me for good?

Dean: I won't let it.

Nash: [flatly] Don't do that. Don't with the charming. It's wasted on me.

Dean: Sure it is.

Nash: We are not friends. This is strictly business. Really. I want money. I want as much money as possible. Or stuff, I'll take stuff.

Dean: Absolutely. Hey, I'll take you to Michael's... I mean, my... costumer - I MEAN - tailor. You like vintage ----

Nash: Dean, on god, if you don't get the hell away from my personal blog ----

Dean: ----and you'd look awesome in... hmmmm... I think a '50s get-up. Something Marilyn or Liz. You've got the rack for it. [stops speaking at this potentially ill-advised comment, banking on Nash's love for compliments overtaking her love of punching him; gives her a pointed look, touch of an eyebrow raise as prompt]

Nash: I suppose that's a do-able thing, and you are a tit connoisseur so I am taking that as a compliment.... [trails off, eyes narrowing, as cooperation with nemesis is never easy]

Dean: Aaaaand people usually do what in response to those? [raises eyebrows all the way this time, eyes sparkly and crinkly and distracting on many subtle and not-so-subtle levels]

Nash: ....

Dean: ....

Nash: [mutters] It's a great hat.

Dean: I LOOK SO GOOD IN HATS

~ Fin ~

See Nash Write : Master / See Nash Write : Mobile

🏷️🏷️Wanna be tagged? Hit me up! 🏷️🏷️

1st Author’s Note Disclaimer (said with much lurve): There are myriad ways this is similar to many fics, possibly by Y/N; *if* these satirical pieces hit too close to home, consider this free writing therapy & an invitation to check your ego whilst finding a sense of humor. 😁 I’m pretty sure I’ve lost three-to-four followers over these things in the past, hence my semi-bitchy tone here. So, hey - go have a run at my stuff if it’ll make you feel better. I can handle it.

Author’s Note #2: Back to non-comedy fare shortly, like I say, just cleaning out ye olde drafts, hope you got a giggle.

Author’s Note #3: Many thanks to my guest star & would-be rescuer @butiaintgonnaloveem

@impandagrl @waywardjoy @jalove-wecallhimdean @jame-sbarnes @just-another-busy-fangirl @amanda-teaches @fanforfanatic @salt-n-burn-em-all @thisgingerlikescoffee @cyrilconnelly @rozadolphin @theblackharrystyles @carryonmycobaltangel @ilsawasanacrobat @klaineaholic @helvonasche @zepppie @amionthetumbler @tankcupcakes @littlegreenplasticsoldier @emlostinwonderland @michellethetvaddict @theoriginalvicki @ellen-reincarnated1967 @copperseraphim @mrswhozeewhatsis @crowleylovesyou @bumbleball13 @anticipate1003 @raspberrymama @lastactiontricia

#Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #Nash Writes #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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sunny-wight-writes · 3 years ago

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blog post no. 1: feb 15 2022

i don’t think ive ever written a blog post before, but i guess thats fine since nobody follows this blog anyways. hell i don’t even follow this account on my main one yet. truly just speaking into the void here.

i know i want this account to be a safe haven for all of my writing, especially since once i graduate im pretty sure i wont have access to my college google docs account. gotta stash the goods somewhere before they expire!

but beyond that i don’t really know what im doing. i really hope that i can figure out in time what i want this to be. i think im going to try and write something every day. kinda like a diary? but also like a notebook for poetry, and a drive for all my essays... hm. so i guess we’re back where we started? this is probably just gonna be a place for me to speak into the void for awhile.

and maybe i wont even actually blog every day? maybe somedays all ill want to do is write a short poem, or maybe one day ill get really inspired and write an essay to post here. whos to say.

im excited to see what this becomes. i kinda already have an idea in mind as to what i want this page to look like. i hope i can make it happen.

#blog #02152022

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deaddominionsofdolor · 3 years ago

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Lecture 3

Hi everyone! Second to last lecture has been posted today! Once the last one is up, we’re going to make a page on the blog to link to all of them, since if you get in, these will be available to your characters IC to fill them in on all the fun lore they weren’t aware of until after they, you know, died. Without further ado let’s get going, it’s below the cut as usual!

Damien: Okay, this is your thing, right? You guys made me do everything else, I’m taking a break.

Hisaya: You all can’t see it, but everyone’s staring at me right now. Fine. Underworld infrastructure or whatever. So. Most of the Underworld is composed of the Rivers of Death and Sea of Fragments. There’s islands of land inlets like the one you’re standing on right now. Specifically, you’re in a Dominion.

Keiichi: Dominions are protected by a demigod of death called a Kerberos. In exchange for power, they're bound by Old Laws that force them into certain behaviors but make them way stronger than any of us are.

Hisaya: You stay there, you live by those same Old Laws. And that's law as in "law of gravity," not "legal code you can break and maybe if someone feels like it they'll arrest you." You can try, but the fallout is bad. So don’t.

Damien: Outside of there, it’s pretty lawless. Literally.

Hisaya: Right outside the Dominion’s limits are the Rivers of Death. We’re effectively on a barrier island so we’re surrounded by two, Tuonela and Urdabrunnr.

Ori: There’s two! Two whole bodies of water. Maybe more, somewhere out there. Navigating them is difficult, least of all because… uh… well, their waters are treacherous. If you fall in, drowning would be the least of your immediate worries.

Hisoka: Signs were put up, so we hope we won’t have any incidents. But if that doesn’t convince you… what effects do the waters have, again?

Hisaya: They destroy ghosts. In short. And maybe could destroy you. Assuming they don’t just strip everything you are away, because that’s how your Geist got the way they are. Don’t touch them, in short.

Hisoka: Yeah, fuck around and find out, basically. Or don’t, that’s what we’re saying.

Ori: And… um… struggling against a banal force that doesn't care about your existence and knowing that there truly is nothing you can do except… give up is an experience I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Not that I can recount… exactly how it feels outside of the realm of speculation, but... Please do be careful around the rivers.

Hisoka: Anyone have anything to add?

Ori: And besides, if you aren't destroyed immediately, you would in theory sink to the bottom and remain that way for weeks while your corpse slowly decom-

Hisoka: Ooooooookay. Okay. Anything else?

Hisaya: ...Well. Diversions on mortality aside. Follow along them closely enough and you eventually hit the River City on the other side of the island.

Damien: Or don’t.

Keiichi: Yeah, uh, that’s the catch, the ghosts in the River Cities don’t like us very much. At all.

Hisaya: Not necessarily kill-on-sight dislike. Pretty close to it, though. The only reason they don’t try is probably because they know they can’t. And the only reason they don’t show up here is because the Old Laws of the Dominion state you can’t incite violence within town limits.

Keiichi: Sooo-o. Going down there is basically asking to get arrested or seriously hurt.

Damien: Hey, it’s not all bad. If you can catch them individually, they might be willing to talk...uh, if only because they’re terrified of what we’re capable of, but still, you can sometimes bargain with them. But yeah, never go alone.

Ori: But it’s not so simple as all of that. You’re well and truly trapped here with a lot of angry ghosts. I’d also be angry if I died and was stuck in the Underwor- oh, hold on, never mind. Anyways, there are cenotes… named after those pits commonly found in the Yucatán that people and objects were sometimes put into as sacrifices. In underworld metaphysicalese, theoretically they’re two-way, and hypothetically they lead out just as they let miscellanea in. Nobody’s been able to leave… and trust me, attempts were made.

Hisoka: Shit’s fucked, in short. It’s like a… what’sit. That snake that eats itself.

Ori: Ouroboros?

Hisoka: Of course you’d know that. There, the rivers loop in on each other. The River Cities are completely cut off from everywhere in the Underworld. There’s nothing else except Dolor, and… well, I’d say it’s a fucking ghost town, but there aren’t any left. Except us and the Geister.

Hisaya: Yeah. There used to be ghosts that lived here. Not anymore. They all migrated out not long after we got here.

Keiichi: Since all of this getting cut off stuff happened right around when we got here, well...it’s a safe bet to say they prooooobably blame us.

Damien: ...Oh. Yeah, that’s worth mentioning-- you know, Reapers?

Ori: Ahm, yes. Reapers are… not exactly like Sin Eaters. Antithetical to us, in a sense. Instead of wanting to aid the dead, they inspire fear by dragging us back to the underworld and believe that the two realms should be kept separate by forceful and violent means. Instead of allowing us to solve our unfinished business or goals, they… Well, they are ghosts themselves. They’re not eldritch horrors, only ghosts who are corrupted by the power they wield. This is granted to them through deathmasks, which are… well, masks that grant them power, in general strokes. Anyways…

Damien: We don’t really know where deathmasks come from, but I wouldn’t recommend messing around with one if you find it. If they corrupt a ghost that’s holding one, it can’t lead to anything good if you use it.

Ori: But if you separate the mask and the Reaper, the owner would return back to being a normal ghost. Just like how we might revert back to properly dead states if- right. Well, anyways, parting the two is difficult. If we get close, Reapers tend to react, uh…. violently. Though, we only have a small sample size to extrapolate from.

Hisoka: Yeah, why don't you tell them more about Beakface?

Ori: Oh, right! There is one especially pernicious Reaper who keeps lurking about the wastelands beyond Dolor. We don’t know what they want aside from the before stated, but be careful. They are a case of what happens when you acquire a deathmask, and that is to say, avoid the Reaper so as to keep from finding out what happens to those who cross them.

Keiichi: Oh yeah, they call themself the Baleful Crow. Don’t worry, you’ll know they’re coming waaaay before you see them. Not the subtle type. I like to think of it as one of their good qualities-- well, good for us.

Hisoka: You smell them coming long before you see them. Wears a mask and a whole lot of robes. Gotta admire their dedication to the brand.

Ori: And a short, thin staff, and… ohh, if only we had a projector, I could draw a diagram. They always manage to come with the worst company, and we have had many close encounters with them. Remember the last time they came after us?

Damien: I know it might sound like we’re joking but yeah, just because you can’t really die doesn’t mean you can’t be seriously hurt. Or thrown in the Rivers, which...well, yeah. You don’t want that, but fortunately I run pretty fast, heh.

Hisaya: And if you can’t...start learning. Fighting an entire mob isn’t going to end well. That Reaper is almost never alone.

Ori: It becomes difficult. I don't like the idea of violence on principle, but it is exhausting going from one close encounter to another, all the while, knowing that we cannot die. And knowing that we can’t leave here, either. Dolor is insular, in a literal sense. As far as any of us know, there is no escape.

Hisoka: Yeah, it's boring. We just exist, with Beakface and company showing up to spice things up every now and then.

Damien: Ordinarily there would be Ferrymen who could navigate along the Rivers and potentially get out, but from what it sounds like, everyone who’s tried just finds out the Rivers double back on themselves somehow.

Keiichi: Annnnnnnnd the ghosts blame us for cursing the place. So I guess it wasn’t always that way? I mean, it’s rough on them too, they can’t trade for anything, soooo.

Ori: But we are not entirely alone. There is… what was the epithet you assigned them, Fukuda? Your rival? Your nemesis?

Hisoka: ……..Something like that.

Ori: The Seamerchant is what she calls herself. But… uh... she doesn’t know how to find a way out of here, either. If we were to somehow procure a vessel and chart a course into the rivers, we would most likely find ourselves right back where we started. And leaving the relative safety of Dolor is plagued with risk.

Hisoka: Yeah, the ghosts really don’t like us, as if it weren’t obvious already.

Ori: I do wish that more of our problems here are able to be solved through communication. I truly do feel for the ghosts, also having to be trapped down here, but it is unfortunate that we face such... hostility if we attempt to leave.

Hisoka: Yeah, I think that’s about all there is to say on the state of things down here.

TL;DR

Down to the River

The Rivers of Death are bad, in short. Your Geist might have been able to get incredible power from them but they are otherwise an anathema to Geists. Try to not fall in them. Unfortunately you are surrounded by them.

Bugfuck Nowheresville

Dolor is, unfortunately, highly isolated. There is a River City, a large town where ghosts live, nearby but they’re all hostile towards Sin-Eaters owing to Reaper propaganda.

Do Fear the Reaper

Reapers are ghosts blessed with incredible powers through a relic known as a Deathmask. Most follow the Old Gods and consider Sin-Eaters to be unnatural abominations. If you manage to catch one without their Deathmask though, they’re just an ordinary ghost. Good luck with that.

#mod post #lecture #this was supposed to be up yesterday but mhs2 ate my life

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anhfdn-hub · 4 years ago

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[muzak plays]

Okay look. Maybe I backed myself into a corner with this storyline a bit. Maybe it doesn't matter because it isn't like I exactly have any partners or anyone else's OCs tied up in it and therefore nobody to really disappoint or inconvenience, and also it's not mandatory to finish every single little creative endeavor I start! Especially since this is just supposed to be a fun hobby, and now I feel like I've ruined my own fun lmao.

I started a whole huge multi-page comic when I haven't even finished so much as a 4koma in years it feels like, and I overwhelmed myself. idk what exactly I'm gonna do with the material I have so far but I think I just need to put down somewhere that I'm giving myself permission to deviate from the plan. I gotta stop letting just one idea get stuck in my head and start being more flexible with myself. It's just a fun game! This is supposed to be a space to mess up and figure shit out and write nonsense and abandon stories!!

I also struggle a lot with writing in character in a blog style because what I like to write about is everything around the dialogue: scenery, body language, the thoughts and feelings that don't get said vs the ones that do, yada yada. Not to mention it's not really in character (ha) for most of my OCs to be posting on a blog! But that's a personal mental block I need to get over I guess haha.

Anyways, I think I just wanted to get this out and if you follow/interact with any of my blogs, thanks for bearing with me!!!

[muzak fades out]

#everyone's been in this spot i'm sure #i'm old and i have to readjust to a new environment and i Do Not Like The Sensation #abe_simpson_it_could_happpen_to_you.jpg #(( ooc ))#put on herb alpert spanish flea for optimal reading of my textwall

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thefinalexperiment · 7 years ago

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The Final Experiment Chapter 21: Bug Boy

A/N: Hello there! I managed to whip this up somehow, and I’m really pretty proud of this part. My next goal is to get another part written for MM&M, but I should also spend some time on my random fandoms blog @ouat-in-spare-oom-of-rivendell because I have totally (accidentally) abandoned my LOTR series over there... Oops. Anyway, now that we’re finally getting into the plot 21 chapters later, here we go! I added the cover, and please excuse me trying a new formatting style.

Pairing: Peter Parker x OC

Word Count: 3,090

Previous parts: 1–2–3–4–5–6–7–8–9–10–11–12–13–14–15–16–17–18–19--20

@after-avenging-hours @casameanlock @nicolejones412 @dashingdetectivetimelady @putnamcountyspellingbee @theblackqueen-ofmyheart @sundayon-fire

Tags:

@mla02 @shamvictoria11 @fanficcrapforme @procrastinatingvirgo @arie-tfw

“So, you gonna go back or what?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Scott…” I muttered, my tone dangerous as I sat beside him.

By the small inclination of his head and the ever-so-slight downward twitch of his mouth, I deduced that he rolled his eyes. Funny, how often he seemed to do that when I dodged a subject.

“Kaitlynn, it’s been a year… They need to know you’re okay.”

“Scott, I’m sure the Professor is very thorough in his progress reports. The know all they need to. Besides, I have stuff I can’t leave here…”

“Nobody said you had to stay there. Come on, just a visit. It’s end of term, not like you’d be missing any school stuff when it’s summer. Besides… you know where we’ve been headed lately.”

I sighed. I knew exactly what he meant… We had been trying to make a relationship work for almost as long as I had been here, but the truth about the nature of it was becoming harder and harder to deny.

“Yeah… You’re one of the closest people to me, Scott.”

“But not in that way,” he finished.

I nodded. “Best friends then?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Best friends.”

“Besides,” I grinned, “I’ve seen the way Jean looks at you…”

At first he seemed confused, but then his cheeks turned slightly pink and he rubbed the back of his neck, grumbling incoherently.

“Mhm… That’s what I thought.”

“You know, I know you changed the subject.”

“Did not.”

“Did too and you know it.”

“Did not, slander and calumny!”

“Kaitlynn, you can’t just quote Pirates of the Caribbean at me and think that I’m going to drop it.”

I suddenly became very fixated on a particular blade of grass. “Scott… In three days, it’ll be a year since they saw me, a year since I went psycho and went on a murder spree.”

He shrugged. “All the more reason to see them. They’re the closest thing to family you’ve got, don’t take that for granted.”

A silence settled while I thought over his suggestion. Could I really face the Avengers after all this time? Sure, they hadn’t seen me in almost a year, but that wasn’t even close to getting a clean slate. Even so… I suppose I did owe them this, after all the trouble I’d caused.

“Fine.” Grinning, Scott looked like he was about to say something, so I cut him off. “I hate you.”

“You know you love me, Kaitlynn.”

“Whatever.”

~Avengers Tower~

“What made her change her mind? A year ago today, we handed her over to the Academy and now she’s coming back? It just doesn’t make sense, Nat…” Steve was pacing and thinking aloud, addressing Natasha, but not really speaking to her.

Nat, who was reclining on the couch, simply shrugged. “I think we should just be glad she’s setting foot here again. She didn’t have to see us at all.” She pause for a moment, then, “Has anyone told Loki?”

Steve shot her a look.

“Look, Cap, I know nobody here is his biggest fan, but he was her friend. He deserves this reunion just as much as we do.”

“He doesn’t deserve anything, except maybe solitary confinement.”

Natasha just rolle her eyes and rose from her seat. “Whatever… Well, I’m gathering the team, and whether or not you approve, that includes Loki.”

~Kaitlynn~

I shifted in my seat, nervously adjusting my gloves as the aircraft docked at the new base somewhere in upstate New York. They’d changed locations not long after I left, something about one of Tony's dad's old warehouses. A small, small part of me was excited to see everyone, but the rest of me was just an overwhelming feeling of I don’t want to be here. I felt sick to my stomach, wishing that time would slow down so I didn’t have to do this. Unfortunately for me, however, it was too late.

I wandered into the new commons area, which was a bit of a living room and a kitchen combined. How ironic, I thought, to be reuniting in the same way that I’d first met them all. The new setting reflected my own new persona. Just like the first time, Wanda was the first to notice me. When the rest of them looked over, there were a lot of mixed emotions. I noticed that Barnes wasn’t there, but though I thought it was strange, I didn’t feel like questioning it.

What I did question, however, was the young man I didn’t recognize. He was standing halfway behind Tony, nervously shifting his weight. He had dark hair and puppy-brown eyes… And he was kinda cute, which was not helping my nerves in any way at all.

Trying to make the situation a little less tense, I attempted a joke. “Replacing me with this kid? Can he even fight?”

I was met with an uncertain silence. It was obvious that they didn’t know whether or not to tread carefully around me any more. The new guy was the only one to react. His eyes went wide and he started stuttering adorably, trying to explain why he was here and that he was definitely-not-replacing-anybody.

I laughed softly at his expression, and the others gaped at me in disbelief.

“What?” I asked, shrugging. “It’s not like the symbiote sucked out my ability to laugh…”

The atmosphere relaxed, and it was then that a familiar Asgardian strolled up to the group, fashionably late as per usual.

“Kaitlynn…”

I nodded in acknowledgement to Loki, allowing myself a small smile. It was easy to relax when he was around. He knew what it was like to be in my shoes.

“So… new guy, what’s your name?” I paused, taking a moment to look him over. As the deductions formed a story, I smirked. “Ohhh, you’re that Bug Boy, the NYC vigilante…”

His eyes went wide again, and he resumed the stuttering routine for a bit. Eventually, he coughed awkwardly and muttered, “Spider-M-- I-I’m Spider-Man…”

“Mm…” I drawled,“I think Bug Boy suits you better.”

Flustered, he tripped over what he wanted to say before coming to a conclusion. “Fine then… Ice Girl.”

I blinked in surprise. I had expected that they’d have told him about me, but I’d thought that he’d be afraid of me or disgusted by me when they inevitably told him the worst. No, I realized, he’s just too innocent to feel the gravity of my actions. He was only around 18, about two years older than me.

“You’re cute,” I remarked. When the others looked at me in confusion, I calmly covered my slip of the tongue without giving myself away. “You’re like a little puppy, tripping over its own feet… But you gotta get over the whole ‘friendliness and trust’ thing, it’s gonna get you killed.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before apparently deciding he couldn’t respond to that. “I’m Peter... Peter Parker.”

I clicked my tongue and tsked jokingly, ”You’re Bug Boy… Now you know who I am, obviously.”

Peter grinned and retorted, “Yeah… you’re the Ice Girl.” His playful expression clearly said Two can play at this game.

Tony, apparently having decided to finally break up the little not-quite-flirting session, cleared his throat. “Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that it’s good to see you, Sherlock. At least, good to see you not on a murder kick. That sort of puts a damper on any reunion, ya know?”

“You’re telling me…” I muttered, tugging at my gloves. Silence settled again.

“Well this is delightful,” Loki finally spoke, “But I do believe I’ll excuse myself from this macabre mood.”

“Not until you tell me why Barnes is avoiding me.”

Loki stopped in his tracks. “You should ask him yourself…” And with that, he strolled away.

“He’s… changed… since you left,” Steve admitted. “But not because of that. Fury showed up and confronted him about a file… Buck never told us what was in it, but that was when he started hiding himself away.”

I rolled my eyes. “Probably some seventy-year-old murder that suddenly has modern consequences… I can go talk him out of this. After all, I know a thing or two about homicidal tendencies as a result of outside forces.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t see how it could hurt. He’s in his room, go out and to the left then take two rights, it’ll be the second door on the right.”

Smirking, I headed that way, leaving them with one last joking comment. “You know, if you had said no, I would’ve just hacked SHIELD to figure out what that file was… That’s a little game I like to play with Director Coulson, ya know? See how many files I can read before he has Daisy upgrade their firewall…” With that little admission of my involvement with SHIELD during the past year, a cacophony of confused voices followed me down the hall.

“Wait--”

“Did she just--”

“Director Coulson?!”

As I neared Bucky’s room, I thought over what I’d said about hacking SHIELD. I was the best at what I did, even better than Agent Johnson, and I knew that that was the only reason Coulson didn’t just tag me with a fancy anti-tech bracelet. It really was a little game, a practice exercise for the two of us computer geniuses. I never did any harm, never leaked any files. There was only one that I had never been able to access, like Daisy had been tasked specifically with keeping me out of that one at all costs. But, of course, that only made me want to crack it even more.

When I reached the door, I took breath, then knocked.

“Steve, I’m not coming to see her. Go away.” He yanked the door open to find me casually leaning against the frame.

“Looks like you are, actually… So what’s up with you, Barnes? Something’s got you in a mood.”

“Kaitlynn…” He regarded me differently he had than before, but that wasn’t a surprise; all of the Avengers did now.

No, what I found strange was the difference between how he and the others acted around me. Everyone else seemed cautious, unsure because they didn’t know the new person I had become. With Bucky, however, it wasn’t just that. Whatever Fury had brought him made him… guilty. He was watching me carefully, as if he was looking for something.

Shaking my head in confusion, I just decided to ask the obvious question. “What did Fury show you?”

Bucky’s expression hardened. “Nothing. You should go now.”

He tried to close the door, but I stopped him. “I don’t think so, James.” I mentally remarked how he flinched ever so slightly when I used that name. “What was in that file? B2WS8499, right? It’s a file that popped up about four months after I left. The one file I can’t ever crack…” Nothing in his countenance changed, but a muscle in his jaw clenched and confirmed my thoughts. “I knew it… What was it?”

Finally, Bucky sighed and relented, “Someone that I hurt.”

I shrugged, not seeing the problem. “Yeah… You hurt a lot of people. What’s so different about this one?”

By the pained look he gave me, I realized that that probably wasn’t a great statement to make when trying to comfort an ex-brainwashed assassin.

“This one… It was more recent than the others. And it’s sort of… come back to haunt me now. While you were gone, I remembered it on my own, but Fury… He found out about it, but he dug deeper and found something even I never knew.”

“Well why haven’t you talked to anyone about it? Steve? Natasha? You and her are Russian-speaking buddies, right? Trade secrets in your secret language and braid each other’s hair?” He seemed a little tense about my bringing up Natasha, but I shrugged it off. “Whatever, but I still say you need to tell someone. Take it from me, keeping secrets is how you lose yourself. And the ones you care about…”

Sighing, he looked up at me. “I’ll think about it. Thank you… Kait.”

That made me pause. I had never had a nickname before, and I found that I didn’t dislike it. “Uhh… Yeah, no problem…” Awkwardly, I backed away and went to leave.

“Mind if I join you?” I looked back at him. “I kinda owe it to the others after disappearing on ‘em.”

I nodded, and Bucky stood to follow me back to the commons area. The others had spread out, no longer really gathered, but doing their own thing. Wanda was at the stove with Vision, trying to explain something over a simmering pot. Bruce stood by the coffee pot, waiting for the water to boil, and Tony was sitting half on the table, fiddling with a hologram from his watch. That Peter Parker kid was lingering in the background, awkwardly glancing around. Steve and Natasha, who were exchanging quiet words on the couch, looked up when we walked in. Their surprise at seeing Bucky was evident, but they didn’t do anything but nod in acknowledgement to his presence.

I nudged him towards them, then went to snag a taste of whatever Wanda was making. It felt a lot like old times, with how she used to jokingly chase me out of the kitchen with her powers whenever I’d steal her ingredients. I noticed the barest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of her mouth as I darted away with my prize. As I moved towards the table to talk to Tony, I was intercepted by Peter.

“Hey Bug Boy, what’s up?” I asked casually.

“Ice Girl… I just wanted to say hi. Again. I mean, get to know you better, I mean. I… I said that twice, didn’t I?”

Laughing softly, I nodded. “You did…”

He shuffled a bit, looking at the ground. “So… How about it? Maybe like… Over ice cream or s-something? I know a great place downtown… Or is ice cream too on the nose? I didn’t mean to make a cold pun, I swear!”

And as he rambled on, it was then that I realized… this little puppy had a crush. On me. I had no idea how to handle this. Scott and I had sort of gotten together by accident when we were both in a rough place, but this… Peter was older than me, true, but he just felt so young in comparison. He hadn’t been through the things I had; life was still enjoyable and not as dark for him.

I took an uncertain breath, then responded with a heavy tone. “Look… I’m not a nice person, Peter… All I can do is hurt you. It’s just better for everyone if you don’t get too close.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe that. You might’ve had some bad stuff in your past, but I don’t think you’re as bad as you think you are.”

I paused to consider his words but resolutely shook my head. “No. You’re the kinda kid who wants a hand-holding, perfect relationship with chaste kisses and sappy words, but I can’t be that person. I can’t even risk so much as a high five without my gloves on. You haven’t seen as much of the world’s kick-in-the-teeth habits as I have.”

“My uncle died,” he retorted, his tone even and quiet. “Because of me.”

I nodded slowly. “Ah, so that’s who it was... You must live with your aunt, then? Since your parents are dead?”

I wasn’t trying to be rude, honest. After my mutation revealed itself, I discovered that when I made deductions, it was hard to avoid just blurting them out.

Peter frowned, looking slightly hurt. I immediately felt guilty, which was new.

“How about we just agree that we’ve both had some rough things happen to us?” Then, he gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “You might not know how to deal with it in a… non-hurtful way, but I still think I’d like to get to know you for you. And… maybe you should try to drop this whole ‘tough’ act, cause I don’t really buy it. I think you just wanna keep people out cause you’re scared.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who can deduce,” I joked in a soft tone. Then, I let myself smirk slightly, in the way that said I was impressed with his gall. “You win, Bug Boy. I guess that means I owe you one first date.”

“First?” he asked, grinning.

I smirked. “Don’t push your luck… We’ll see about a second after.”

“After what?”

“After the first, of course. Don’t they teach math at your fancy private school, Bug Boy?” I teased, smirking.

“Clever deduction, Ice Girl… Bet you can’t say which school though,” he retorted.

I tilted my head, pretending to think about it. “Hm… Midtown Science?”

“Oh come on! There’s no way that’s possible… Lucky guess, has to be.”

“Well, actually--” But just as I was about to launch into an explanation of how I had been able to rattle off the name, I felt someone watching us. I looked over to see Bucky sitting next to Nat and Steve… giving Peter what could only be described as a Murder Face. Trailing off, I watched the soldier curiously until he noticed the incredulous look I was giving him. He shifted awkwardly and looked down at the floor.

Peter was likewise confused. “Uh… Should I be worried?”

“Nah… At least, I don’t think so…”

“You don’t sound very sure…” he muttered, seeming mildly terrified at the thought of having unknowingly slighted an ex-assassin.

I shrugged. “Oh well, how about we go somewhere then?”

He gave me a funny look, kind of amused at my nonchalant attitude, then shook his head and chuckled softly. “Okay… I guess if he’s gonna kill me, I might as well get to go out with a pretty girl first, right?”

That one actually made me blush. Unable to find words for a reply, I just nodded. When he offered me his hand, I hesitated, but he just grinned like there wasn’t a care in the world. His smile was infectious, and after a second, I relented, making sure my gloves were on properly first.

As we left, I noticed Bucky watching us, his eyes narrowed and dark. I didn’t understand his behaviour, but one thing I was certain of was that I definitely needed to know what was in file B2WS8499.

Next Part

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kjammofficial · 4 years ago

Text

OP from FB

So apart from watching youtube videos and sharing some reshared content on facebook, I haven't actually been socially active lately.

My messenger is blowing up and I haven't responded to a lot of messages. So, it's not that I'm not replying to you. I'm not replying to EVERYONE. Apart from asking some recommendations and replying to some pages who I need to get in touch with since I have a transaction with them. Other than that, anything else that's personal has just been lying around in my inbox.

Anyway, I've been pretty much out for the count, especially after what happened last time. I'm still pretty bummed out by it so I'm trying my best not to pass on my shit to anybody else. This is definitely going to be a looong ass extensive posts. Coz' here' what I thought, instead of making multiple posts about my shit, I'll just sum it up into one big pile of shit, right?!

First off, if you're selling something, right. Like, you're not a store, but a person just trying to make a living, selling your services, be sure to know how to treat people right. I was speaking with someone about getting some shit done and since I'm not familiar with the process, I had to ask, right? This mofo started laughing and proceed to tell me that I... "should come back and talk to him when I know what I was talking about." In this particular case, pricing. Holy shit the nerve of this dude. Okay, so I lost some money recently, that ain't no secret. But the audacity of this person, telling me, as if I ain't got nothing to pay for the shit I'm asking. You sir just lost 1 good possible customer. You seem to be doing well on your own anyway, but FUCK YOU anyway for looking down on me. I'm not a rich guy, but I know how to work around my finances and I CAN BUY SHIT THAT COSTS WAY MORE THAN WHAT YOU THINK, FUCKER! So yeah, I'll gladly tell more about this via PM if you're interested to know what this is so you too can avoid the person. The lesson here is, don't talk shit to potential customers. Whether you know or just think that they could probably afford shit or not, never straight up laugh at your customer. NEVER!

Alright, so that's enough screen time for that fucker. Next, sooooo.... I forgot what's supposed to be next. I think I was gonna write something about what happened. Oh, right. So, I recently lost my entire paycheck due to some issues around the house, right. This one's a bit too personal and even on private messages, I won't go into details about it. But, here's the thing that's annoying. You know how you prepare for your shit, and even though you're not good at planning. You desperately try to plan things out, just to make sure that you won't astronomically fuck things over by yourself, since you know how much you can get screwed over by your own. Right?! Well, la-dee-daah, look who screwed me over. Someone who didn't prepare for their own shit and now, for some reason, I had to deal with it. What did it cost me? 2 months worth of planning go poof, and 1 month of unpaid debt (cash loan). So, I'm still figuring out how to get back from that. I seem to have enough time until when my next paycheck comes, I haven't planned it yet though. Who knows what the fuck might screw me over by that time. I'll just have to sit it out and improvise.

Partially ditched my (closest) friends again, over a video game dispute. I mean, shiiiiiit I loooove me my video games. I can even say to some extent, it's all I have, next to them. And they just keep pissing me off for some stupid reasons. Like, yeah it was pretty dumb to be mad about it, but in my point of view, I was pretty certain they were aware. Like they were aware of how I am with games and probably not with any other games, but this game in particular. I'm not gonna state what game it is just for... whatever. I just don't understand... Okay so here's the thing, whenever I go dark, they eventually come to a point and ask "what's going on? Tell us what's wrong." So after you tell them what's wrong, you get that security that, these set of people are aware, they know how they should deal with your BS. Right?! Then here comes me throwing shade, and they just give up instantly. Like, I don't understand the point of me explaining to them what's wrong with me if they immediately, instantaneously give up, right?1 Like what's the point of telling a story, if after saying the lesson the reader just goes "let's do it again." I hate to say it but, while it is true that most of the time that we have "the talk" is between alcohol, but I gotta admit... it's sad when they just seem to pretend to listen. It's stupid how it started from video game dispute to not listening, right? Like I'm some kind of moody s/o or something. But that's how I feel, I mean, that's the best that I could explain how it feels. So, Idk, I'm not exactly writing this other than for my own pleasure so, eh... Not my problem if you can't translate.

Also, I've been unfollowing news outlets and skipping anything I scroll past that's political or covid related. I've actually been doing it ever since like April, but this time I'm almost hard committing to not getting involved. I mean, sometimes I get into flame wars in the comment section just for the heck of it. But I try to go into flame wars that I know I'm certain to win haha. Like, fr tho. I don't wanna get burned too much. But then again, I still also do my best to stay away from anything related at all.

As I'm writing this I actually paused a game I recently received as a gift. NieR:Automata™. I've been wanting to play this for a while now, especially when I found out that this is basically a bigger story-centered version of Stanley Parable did. I was like "oh shit, I gotta play this game." I'm not sure if I have been spoiled already when I saw reviews before, but hopefully, my description of the game here, doesn't ruin it for those who haven't played it yet too. Also, you have some dedication reading this post if you've made it this far. If you did, do send game recommendations. I like the ones that have an absurd number of multiple endings. I blame Stanley Parable for this, but I just really fancy the idea. Or at least a confusing one, like Control. I haven't played it yet but it's been out for a while. I know I wanted to play it since it was teased, but I never got the chance to grab the game yet, when it recently dropped in Steam. I was indeed spoiled about something about the ending, so, probably after NieR, my lists are as follows. (I'm not gonna make a bulleted list coz it'll be easily seen when anyone clicked "see more" and people be like "meh, just a bunch of lame gaming posts") So my lists is, for big title, I'm waiting for WD: Legion and CyberPunk 2077. Then comes Detroit become human, Control, Beyond: Two Souls. I have a bunch in mind that I wanna play but these are my focus for now. That's after I finished NieR.

Well, you've made it. You somehow read through this entire thing. I gotta say, I actually had a lot of negative shit to posts. But I think my YouTube-ing, actually helped. I have been watching Smosh Pit. Holy guacamole Smosh is hella different than when I was first watching it back in 2010-2012. Anthony has long since left, and Ian has just been awkward to watch, sometimes. He looks like "when the boss tries to look quirky like the employees" whenever he's in a video, lol. But him and Anthony did establish the whole thing up, he probably got stuck to it after Anthony left. Since, you can't really just leave your legacy to a bunch of other people, right? Anyway, idk why I'm talking about that so.... You know the unfortunate thing is, after all this, nobody still really cares. Doesn't matter how much effort I put into socializing with people. After everything that I've gone through, once it's all said and done. At the end of the day, all I really have is myself. I think I've come to a point now that I've been doing self-love too much, that I've taken myself for granted. So, I'm just like "whatever" now. Nothing matters, we're all shitty people, we're all just a bunch of gas moving around, we're all gonna die, nobody's gonna know us as soon as 5 years after we died.

This is probably the only time I'm gonna say this on facebook or any of my other socials as I'm gonna try to hide it. I'm gonna do my own vlogging again. BUUUT it's not gonna be on anything that can be monetized. It's gonna be just my personal vlogs. I'll have it in my tumblr, what's my tumblr, that's for you to figure out. I've missed vlogging, and not the modern fancy ass vlogging that you see in YouTube. The vlogging I grew up with is literally just a video-blog/vlog, like a diary. So you take a video and you keep it somewhere. I didn't wanna upload it actually, I was gonna have it as a keepsake. But just for the heck of it, I'll put it in the internet so it's there forever. Unless tumblr gets taken down or do a friendster/myspace. So, yeah, I haven't posted anything yet, nor had taken a video. But as soon as I started rolling, I'll post it there and it'll just be a memory of me.

So yeah guys. Idk why you're reading this but thanks for your time anyway. Ya'll have a good one. I still don't feel like socializing but for my sanity's sake, I'll try to get back into responding into your messages. It's probably good for me too (I think). Byyeeeeeeeeeee~

Fin

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writings-andstuff · 7 years ago

Text

“Don’t Objectify Me” (Dean x Reader)

The first of two for tonight and then I’ve got to study for my finals tomorrow.

Happy Reading!

Words: 1971

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Excessive cuteness

Excerpt: He huffed again but stayed silent. The three of you, with the help of Cas back at the bunker, were investigating a string of homicides in Oklahoma. Three people had been killed inside of a week, but that hadn’t even been the strangest part. The bodies hadn’t just been mutilated, they’d been practically decimated. Their chests had been ripped open and their lungs had been removed. It was positively gruesome.

Forever Tags: @fairchild21

Tagging: @beccaanne814-blog

You paced back and forth waiting for Dean to come out of the house of one of the victims. Of course, you couldn’t go in with him—you were the watchdog. You were always the watchdog. Dean was always the one putting himself in the line of fire, and you were always just...watching.

“Easy kid,” Dean said, coming up behind you. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the concrete.”

You gasped and hit him in the shoulder, hard. “Oh my god, you idiot! You scared the crap out of me. I almost pulled my gun on you.”

Dean gave you a sly smirk and walked around the side of the Impala, leaning over the top for a second to talk to you. “Well, don’t do that. Don’t wanna have to tell my brother that my girlfriend made me Swiss cheese because I scared her.”

“Then don’t scare me,” you shot back, sliding into the front seat of the Impala and waiting for Dean to follow suit. After he did, he put the keys in the ignition and the car rumbled to life. “So, did you find anything? Hex bags? Sulfur?”

“Nada,” he grumbled. “But I still say it’s a demon. There’s just nothing about the killings that screams witchy business to me.”

“‘Witchy business’?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow. He started off down the road. “I don’t know, Dean. I gotta stick with Sam on this one. Witches seem to be the most likely culprit.”

Dean huffed. “I thought you were supposed to side with me.”

“Only when you’re right,” you countered. “And anyways, if you’re right, you get bragging rights against not one, but two people. But you’re not right.”

He huffed again but stayed silent. The three of you, with the help of Cas back at the bunker, were investigating a string of homicides in Oklahoma. Three people had been killed inside of a week, but that hadn’t even been the strangest part. The bodies hadn’t just been mutilated, they’d been practically decimated. Their chests had been ripped open and their lungs had been removed. It was positively gruesome.

You and Sam were thinking a witch because, contrary to what Dean had said, it screamed ‘witchy business’ to the two of you. But Dean was having none of it. He was sure it was the work of some demon just looking for humans to kill. The only problem with his theory was that removing a specific organ from those bodies seemed like more of a ritual than an MO.

The two of you met Sam back at the motel room to find out what he’d learned from the bodies in the coroner’s morgue.

When you got back, Sam was sitting on the edge of one of the beds with his tie and suit jacket stripped off. He looked up at the two of you as you entered the room and shut the door. He looked almost green, which was odd since Sam was usually the most composed and least queasy around dead bodies, especially the gory ones.

“I’m guessing it was as gross as we thought it would be,” you said, giving him a small pat on the back as you passed the bed to sit in a chair by the small table. Dean dumped himself down on the other bed and began undoing the buttons on his flannel so that his black T-shirt underneath could be seen.

“Worse,” Sam grumbled.

“Well,” Dean turned to look at you and Sam. “We got nothing at the vic’s house. That was the last of the three and still nothing.”

Sam gulped down air before speaking. “Well, there were no hex bags in the bodies.”

You shook your head. “Okay, so let’s go down the list—”

“The very short list,” Dean put in.

“Can’t be a demon since there was no sulfur,” you said, ignoring him. “Not a witch, because there were no hex bags, and nothing to suggest witchy activity.”

Dean smirked. “‘Witchy activity?’”

You threw a plastic fork at him from last night’s take-out dinner of cheese burgers and fries. He frowned down at where it hit his thigh.

“You see this, Sammy,” Dean said to his brother. “Before she threatened to poke holes in me, now she’s trying to spear me with plastic utensils.”

Sam frowned and looked over at you. “You threatened to shoot him?”

“He scared me,” you told him plainly.

Sam nodded as if this was all the clarification he needed and turned back to Dean. “Shouldn’t’ve scared her, Dean.”

Dean picked up the fallen fork and threw it at Sam who expertly dodged it. His color was starting to return to normal, which reminded you of your list. You sighed.

“Okay, focus guys,” you said. “No ectoplasm means no vengeful spirit. No dead family members or friends who would want them dead, which means no ghost. I believe this is what the kids call an impasse.”

“Nope,” Dean sighed. “Think that’s just you, sweetheart.”

“There’re more forks here, Dean,” you warned. “I wouldn’t push your luck.”

He put his hands up in a sign of surrender.

“Wait,” Sam said in his ‘I think I’ve got something’ voice. “What if it is a ghost?”

You didn’t have time to respond because Sam was already up and sitting at the table across from you in front of his laptop. He tapped away as Dean came to stand behind you, one hand on the back of your chair and the other on the tabletop.

“Care to fill us in, Sammy?” Dean said.

Sam kept typing. “Just think about it. We don’t really know that much about ghosts. We know that if they stay long enough, they go vengeful. We know that when they expend lots of energy, they leave behind ectoplasm. We know that they can haunt things, people, and even places. Sometimes they don’t know what they’re doing, sometimes they do. The truth is, we don’t really know all that much about how much ghosts can do.”

You frowned. He was right, of course. Dean had once caught a ghost virus and it almost stopped his heart. On their first hunt together, Sam and Dean had encountered a woman in white who had almost killed Sam. Even Bobby had been attached to his whiskey flask after he’d died. You’d seen an entire building haunted by one ghost alone, and you’d seen one dilapidated house haunted by many ghosts.

But there was one problem with his theory.

“Yes,” you said, “but we’ve never seen ghosts do this. Not since the breaking of the seals to free Lucifer. The witnesses.”

“Aha!” Sam exclaimed, flicking his computer screen. You and Dean moved to the other side of the table to inspect it.

“Uh, care to explain this to us normal folk, Sammy?” Dean asked, pointing to the screen. It was a picture of a thin man in his late fifties maybe, wearing a porkpie hat and a tweed jacket.

“We were looking for a link to the victims, here’s our link,” Sam pointed to the man on the screen. “Meet Professor Ike Weizmann. He was an Anatomy and Physiology professor at the university in Norman. It says that last year he suffered a severe asthma attack in his lab during a lecture and died. Apparently, his family filed a lawsuit against the board of the University last year because they thought the attack was caused by mold in the walls that went left unchecked. A week before the court date, all of the members of the board quit and the school was closed for an entire month before they were replaced.”

Dean licked his bottom lip. “Please tell me that there were only three members on that board.”

Sam shook his head and clicked onto another page on his laptop. He pointed to a list of people. “There are two more: Lisa Warren and Keith Garfield. Both live in the area.”

You shook your head. “Based on the pattern, it seems like he’s been killing them every twenty-four hours. But, I don’t get it—why wait until a year after his death to come and get his vengeance?”

Sam turned in his chair to face the two of you, shaking his head. “I have no idea. Maybe he was waiting for the right time? Who knows. But I’ve got the addresses for both of the other board members.”

“How much time until the next murder?” Dean asked you.

“Um,” you did some quick math in your head. “Well, McCreedy was killed somewhere around eleven last night, they think. It’s eight now. So, three hours, give or take.”

“We’ll split up,” Sam said. “Dean, you take Keith and I’ll take Lisa. He’s only going to kill one tonight, and they live on opposite sides of town so—”

“So whoever finds Professor Bowler Hat,” Dean cut in, “is on their own until backup comes.”

“I don’t like this plan,” you said. “Wait, uh, what is the plan, exactly? Specifically, what am I doing while one of you is almost dying?”

“Nobody’s gonna die,” Dean assured you.

Sam nodded his agreement. “You’re going to go to the cemetery in the middle of town. According to the archives, Weizmann was buried. So you’re gonna burn the remains.”

You could see it in Dean’s clenched jaw and tight shoulders that he didn’t like you going on your own, but he also knew that you could handle yourself. You were no damsel in distress, and he knew that. Nevertheless, you laced your fingers through his. “I’ll be fine. Just burning bones. Nothing new.”

He sighed. “I know. Alright,” he looked at Sam. “I’ll drop you off by Lisa, then Y/N by the cemetery, and then I’ll head over by Keith.”

“If I burn the bones,” you said, “you guys should still stay there until after eleven, just to be sure.”

“Alright,” Sam said. “Let’s get ready and go. The faster we get this over-with, the faster we get back to the bunker.”

The rest of the salt ’n burn went off without a hitch. You were thrown into a tree, but you managed to light fire to the bones before the ghost killed anyone. Of course, Dean overreacted about the head injury you had.

Cas met the three of you in the war room when you returned the next day. He offered to heal you, but you refused, much to Dean’s dismay. You let Dean clean the cut at your hairline, though, and listened to him go on a tangent about how he should’ve been there with you.

You waited patiently until he was done talking to tell him your piece about how you were fine and the three of you had had a job to do. Burning the bones just happened to be yours. All three of you had an equally dangerous job.

As it was, Ike only attacked you because you were holding matches above his open casket. It was to no avail on his end, though, because you managed to burn them anyways. Dean came over after and helped Sam put the dirt back over the grave, having you wait in the Impala.

“I still should’ve been there with you,” Dean stood before you, his arms crossed and his jaw set.

“Dean, its just a cut,” you told him. “I’m fine. But I would really like to sleep for the next day.”

His features softened, but only slightly. “It’s late. C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

You grinned at him and hopped off of the library table. “Yes, please.”

“But you gotta sleep on your own pillow,” he said with a small smile, roping his arm around your waist, though you were fine to walk and had told him so several times.

“Why?” you whined. “You’re such a comfy pillow.”

“Don’t objectify me.”

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