#havent been in the right space but its itching at me. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeonbots · 3 years ago

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AJAR (1) | Jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook - fem. reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: demon!jungkook, nogitsune!jungkook, troubled!oc, minor character death, mentions of death, mention of a car accident, oc keeps nightmare-ing, jungkook is a fear demon, nogitsunes love chaos, mentions of sex, drinking, swearing, explicit sexual content such as oral (f receiving), fingering, breast playing, nipple sucking; dark rooms, blood, wounds, drugging, taehyung is a prick i'm sorry, poor oc just wants to sleep peacefully, jk won't let her, partying, overuse of the pet name ‘sugarplum’

words: 5k

a.n.: heyyyy! ik i was supposed to post that wizards of wavery place au but i havent finished it yet, i wasn't happy with it so i decided to change it up a bit. this story however has been in my drafts for about a year sooo here's the first part! it's gonna be a 2 part story :)))) enjoy

part two

/!\ UNEDITED /!\

—

You don’t remember the first time it happened. Or vaguely. Maybe five, six months ago? You’re not sure. But you do remember the darkness and the loneliness you felt at that moment. When you closed your eyes and you felt your body fall in an endless hole, skin itching uncomfortably. You had realized it itched because it was on fire, agony screeching out of your mouth and resonating in– in nothingness. And then you saw it. Its black, mundane eyes staring back at you like it was a hunter and you were its prey. You felt like suffocating until you had dug your nails into your palms hard to wake yourself up. Your body had jerked forward and you had screamed your lungs out until your throat burned, the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably. From this moment forward, you hadn’t sleep an entire night without waking up crying out loud in the middle of the night, your friend rushing to you. The first week, it was the same dream. The fall, your body on fire, the suffocating air, the piercing black eyes and your anxious and frightened awaking state.

The eighth night, you opened your eyes and found yourself on a cold floor, darkness surrounding you. You blinked a few times before adjusting to the poor lighting and suddenly your body shivered as you felt someone– or something– watching you intensely. You turned your head sideways trying to find the source of your discomfort but nothing was there. Until you heard it. A laughter. It was more of a snicker really, but it ran through your whole being, shaking your insides. The voice that had mocked you out loud had been so cold and dark, almost resembling a demon that you flinched. You tried to get on your feet but the cry that broke through you stopped you. You plopped back down on the floor, looking down at your body, taking in the deep cut and the blood pouring out of your right thigh.

“Help me! Please!” You cried, tears running down your face.

No response.

You lowered your head and sobbed. “I want to wake up.” You whispered, tears soaking your shirt.

Minutes, maybe hours passed. You weren’t sure. You just knew that you had stopped crying at some point. The wound on your leg didn’t seem to stop bleeding and you felt the life force being poured out of you everytime blood gushed out of your leg. You had laid back down on the cold marble, eyes closed and your arms and legs splayed out on the ground, resembling a starfish. The snicker from earlier returned and you abruptly opened your eyes, going in a sitting position and frenetically whipping your head around the area, searching for the source of your torments.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

The mocking grew closer and louder, and before you knew you were pulled back down on your back, breathe knocking out of you by the sheer force of the impact. You felt your arms move on their own accord, coming to lay against your sides as slender fingers grabbed your ankle and dragged you across the room, ignoring your pleas and cries for help.

“Let me in, sugarplum.”

It was softer than the snicker, but you still caught the dark timbre lying underneath.

“Who–”

Your body suddenly came to a halt and when you looked up, a large figure was towering over you. The jolt of surprise coming out of your mouth when the stranger bent down didn’t go unnoticed as you could make out rosy lips smirking right at you in the darkness. You shuddered as the stranger passed their fingers up your leg, ghosting over your wound before pressing down on it harshly with his palm. You cried out and tried to back off but your attempts were futile as two strong hands suddenly grabbed your hips, throwing you over a strong shoulder as they began to walk to some direction, you didn’t really know. You thrashed in the stranger’s hold, crying even more than before and before you knew, you were carelessly thrown on a mattress. Seconds later you heard footsteps and the click of a door, meaning you had been locked up in some room.

You sighed shakily as you glanced around the room. On your right, there was a small dusty bedside table with one drawer, a small lamp put on top of it and a box of matches right next to it. In the corner of the room, you could make out a maroon desk with some journals sprawled out on top of it and next to it a door closed, probably the one the stranger used to bring you here. However, on the opposite wall to your right there was another door. This one was slightly open. You frowned and forced yourself to get off the mattress, struggling to get on your feet. The second you were standing your legs gave away and you fell forward, landing on the nearest wall as your palms impacted your fall. The wall rubbed harshly against your skin as you let out a small cry, gasping at the pain running throughout your entire body.

How could a dream feel so real?

You brushed the thoughts off and started walking towards what you thought was your only way out of there, even if you knew deep down that it was not. You still were pretty much pressed against the wall, slowly making your way towards the strange door. When you finally reached it, you pressed a hand firmly against the wall as the other went to shakily grab the handle.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sugarplum.”

You froze.

No. Please.

You didn’t move. Not an inch. Not even to open the door completely or to turn around to meet your captor. But you sensed him shifting closer until his front was pressed against your back, an arm snaking around your waist to keep you close as you closed your eyes instinctively. His breathe fanned over your shoulder, lips brushing against your ear.

“Do you really want to face your biggest fears now?” He whispered.

“Please... let me go...” You whimpered.

“This is not the way out, sugarplum.”

He grabbed at your hips and spun you around and you yelped when you were met with familiar black eyes. Your own eyes grew wide and you took a few steps back until your back hit the wall softly. Even in all this darkness, the only thing you could make out about his appearance was complete dark and cold set of eyes.

“If you want out,” he followed your steps until he was hovering above your fragile and wounded form, “you just gotta let me in.” He ducked his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, nipping at your earlobe.

“Who are you?” You breathe out, staring at an invisible dot at the wall opposite to the one you’re pressed against.

He chuckled against your ear and a shiver ran down your spine. Yeah, that was straight up demonic.

He pulled his head out of your neck and leaned an arm on one side of your head against the wall and brought the other one around your jaw, lifting your head up to meet his intimidating gaze.

“Your worst nightmare, sugarplum.”

Then he laughed. It rang loud enough in your ear and you could hear the darkness in his mocking tone as he turned around and walked away from you. And suddenly, you were screaming. Screaming as you sat up in familiar warmth, hands fisting your sheets and tears running down your face. Realization dawn upon you as your cries had lowered in volume and you quickly pushed the covers aside, relief washing over you as your right thigh was not wounded. No blood, no horrible deep cut that made you want to puke. Your breathing was labored as you whimpered, the door of your room opening in a hurry.

“Fuck.” Your friend cursed out before making her way to you, sitting on the bed.

“I–I’m fine, I’m okay. It’s okay.” You avoided her gaze, hand coming to wipe off the tears on your red cheeks.

“No, you’re not Y/N. How long are you gonna keep this up? It’s been a whole fucking week and I don’t fucking know what’s happening to you. It scares the shit out of me.” Henri softly grabbed your head in her two hands, turning your head to meet her gaze as she rubbed your cheeks with her thumbs in a comforting way.

You breathed out shakily. “I think I’m going crazy.” You whispered, lower lip trembling as the tears threatened to spill out again.

“Let’s get you some help. Please.” She pleaded as she bore her eyes into yours. You nodded after a long minute and you saw the look of relief wash over your best friend’s face. She leaned forward as she pressed a kiss to your forehead then engulfing you in his arms. You rested your head on her shoulder as she rubbed your back.

“So, what happened before the incident?”

Three weeks later you were in seated in a beige sofa– a pretty comfy one, you had to admit– for your fourth therapy session with an older woman facing you on her baby pink armchair, her auburn hair styled up in a neat bun, a white dress-shirt tucked in a surprisingly colorful long skirt covering her legs as she had crossed one over the other. You learned after your first session that she liked fashion, noticing that her outfits were always on point and that she definitely should give you some advice. When you had woken up this morning, you had taken a quick shower and thrown on a grey sweater with matching grey sweatpants, not bothering to put make-up on. Why would you? You were about to talk about your deepest fears with a total stranger. You were glancing at the clock hung up on the wall nervously before she spoke up again at your silence.

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Y/N.” Her tone was soft and you felt your throat tighten.

You cleared your throat rather awkwardly. “Uh, I was out with some friends.” You nodded mostly to yourself but she hummed, telling you that she was all ears even though she was sometimes glancing down at her notepad to write something. “And, uh, there was this new club that opened on South Lake. We wanted to check it out and we were dressed accordingly so... we went. When we arrived there, the club was pretty full and we lost track of each other at some point... Uh, and I was pretty drunk. So I made out with a friend of mine and we uh, fucked. Yeah, pretty intense fuck if you ask me.” You laugh awkwardly as you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upwards. She was comforting, somehow.

“So yeah, I fucked the guy then I called my br-”

The words died in your throat as you froze. Clarisse felt you tense under her stare but nothing changed on her face.

“You were going to talk about your older brother, Jason?”

You lowered your head and started fidgeting with your fingers placed in your lap, gulping as you felt your eyes water. You hadn’t realized in your storytelling that you were going to have to bring up that subject at some point. You nodded shakily, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I should’ve never done that.” You whispered and the last words came out in a broken whimper. The woman opened her mouth, about to talk but was cut off by your sudden voicing.

“Is it over yet?” Clarisse jumped slightly at the way you had abruptly raised your head, looking at the awful clock as you brought your hands to your face to wipe off the tears with the sleeves of your sweater.

“Y/N–”

“Oh,” you fake-heartedly laughed, cheeks still stained with wetness, “would you look at that! It’s been an hour already.”

“Wait–”

“Goodbye, Ms. Blackwood.”

You had already grabbed your bag and bolted out of the door as Clarisse sat on her chair, dumbfounded.

You never went back to therapy. A small part of you felt bad for leaving the kind woman in her confusion but the other part– the larger one– was relieved you didn’t have to go through painful memories anymore.

College isn’t as hard as you’ve imagined. Ever since your brother’s death you had found the world of books and words fascinating. At first, your roommate would ogle at you like you were some kind of wild animal who had escaped from the zoo then she understood the change in behavior. You were quite the party girl before the car crash; always going out with friends, having fun in summer homes or going to frat parties. And now you’ve become what people call a ‘bookworm’. Of course, it doesn’t take your mind off the horrendous and painful nightmares you’re having every night, but it helps get yourself distracted from the intense ache in your chest. At first you had tried booze to keep your mind off the terrible monsters haunting you but all it did was giving you painful aftermath headaches and a horrible sinking feeling in your stomach. The last time you got really drunk, you threw up your entire stomach in some random front lawn and you collapsed on the grass, dazing off to a sleeping state. And your eyes closed slowly until you woke up in a familiar dark room, pleading and begging to be released.

You swore you’d never drink again.

“Y/N!” A warm breathe tickles the side of your face and you turn your head sideway to face the person who’s arm is draped around your shoulders, the other coming to settle around your waist, clinging to you loosely.

“You’re drunk,” you state, looking at your friend’s giggling form.

“And you’re not,” she pouts as she leans a bit more on your frame. “Come on, get drunk with us Y/N.” Her words are slurred.

“Henri,” you sigh. Your nightmares aren’t unknown to your friend, in fact, when it first happened, she was the first person you called, your sobbing making her heart ache through the receiver. She had decided to join you that night, knocking at your door fifteen minutes later, hands full of junk food and candy. You had spent majority of the night laughing and eating your fears away, Henri wanting to make you feel better. After that night, she’d decided to move in with you.

You look down your half-empty cup, the brown-ish liquid taunting you. You can practically see its mocking smile, waves of gold beaming through the dark beverage. “You know I won’t.” Before she can protest though, her warmth disappears and you hear her gasp and you see from the corner of your eyes the boy you recognize as her boyfriend Justin pressing his lips against hers, silently rolling your eyes.

The living room is packed with people grinding against each other, kissing in corners or going up the stairs, probably to fuck their sexual frustration away. Justin’s frat house always throws the most anticipated parties in the campus, and of course Henri wouldn’t miss it for the world. They’re like– the must-go parties, house full of free booze and weed in every corner, half of the campus always attends them. You hadn’t gone to a party in forever though, still traumatized by the last time you were blackout drunk but Henri had insisted the whole week and you said yes just a few hours ago. You didn’t feel like dressing up but she almost screamed at you to at least make an effort and you settled on a high-waisted black denim skirt that stops mid-thigh and a black tube top tucked underneath with some white sneakers after a long hour of Henri rummaging through your closet.

“Y/N!”

Turning your head to the familiar voice, you smile as the dark-haired man you’ve grown to appreciate the company of walks towards you with his own beaming smile.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” He engulfs you in his arms as you giggle before awkwardly patting his back with your free hand.

“I’ve missed you too, Taehyung.”

Justin was the one to introduce you to Taehyung at his birthday party three years ago. He had been Justin’s drug dealer for quite a few years and he had been hooking you up ever since. Deciding to stop doing drugs ultimately made you stop calling Taehyung for weed and cocaine, and you two lost touch as the months went by.

“It’s been– what, about a year?” He says as he steps back, rubbing the back of his neck. You briefly glance at his appearance, loose black dress shirt and the tight fitting jeans hanging on his hips. The shirt’s collar is large enough to have his collarbone peeking out of the fabric, your thighs clenching under your skirt. You skillfully hide your evident arousal as you learned to do over the years and look back up only to find yourself squirming when you notice his lingering gaze on your breasts covered by the thin fabric of the tube top. He slowly licks his lips and you bite back a whine, your slick arousal already starting to seep through your panties and onto your inner thighs.

“Ten months,” you correct with an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” he looks back into your eyes at your words and nods before looking around the place, not an ounce of shame taking over his features for being caught staring. “Uh, I haven’t had the chance to, uh, say it but I’m sorry for your loss.”

You gulp as you look down at your drink. “Thanks–”

“W-well not the chance but you know what I mean.”

You giggle as you shake your head. “It’s okay. Thank you, Tae. It really means a lot.”

Memories flood through your mind as you recall the times you would get high with Henri, Justin, Taehyung and a few other friends before the accident, all spread out on the couch and the carpet of some random house as you’d talk and laugh about basically anything. You’d say those were the happiest moments of your life and you’d do anything to turn back time and have this short yet vivid moment of happiness running through your veins just one more time, dopamine spreading through your whole being. And those nights you had spent in Taehyung’s bed, his cock pounding your walls as he sucked bruises onto your skin, the delicious drag of his length sending you over the edge.

As if answering your– unwanted –prayers, Taehyung slowly approaches you with a sly smirk, a hand propped on the counter beside your hip as he leans over your figure. You look up at him quizzically.

“I thought maybe,” he licks his lips as he glances down at your lips and back at your eyes, “you’d want to have some fun.”

You raise an eyebrow as his free hand digs into his jeans’ pocket, a small plastic bag dangling from his fingers as he lifts his hand at eyes level. You’d recognize those blue pills anywhere.

“No.”

“C’mon, Y/N. Just one, like old times.”

The hand that was on the counter comes hovering your neck, his slender fingers softly caressing the skin there. You shudder as his palm grabs your nape more firmly, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck.

“Taehyu–”

His sudden lips on your ear clamps your mouth shut and your eyes flutter, the lids closing as he starts to suck on the lobe. The grip on your half-empty cup weakens and you hastily put it down on the counter behind you, a few droplets of alcohol spilling on the marble. He presses his chest against yours as he starts kissing down your neck, licking and sucking until he reaches your collarbone where he vacuums the skin in his pink-tinted lips, a whimper making its way past your own. His arms snake around your waist and press you even harder against him as you grab his biceps for leverage, his hard-on poking at your thigh as you gradually let your head fall back.

You don’t notice the small blue pill he manages to sneakily drop into your beverage, its shape dissolving in the drink to slowly disappear into the abyss of its intoxication.

“Holy fuck.”

Your back arched against the mattress and your eyes closed in unadulterated bliss as Taehyung laps at your clit, you moan shamelessly as your hips jerk at each flick of his tongue against your cunt. He hungrily devours your sex and your buzzed state doesn’t protest even after your third orgasm. You still haven’t touched his cock.

“Ho– fuck– Tae, stop, I can’t– ngh– too much.”

He reluctantly leans away from your pussy, mouth and chin covered in your juices as he hovers your fucked out state, his smirk growing wider as he wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

“I still gotta fuck you full of my cum, baby.”

You release a shaky breath as you bite your lower lip, one hand seductively traveling down the expense of his chest through his shirt as your lust-painted eyes drink in his features. As you reach down his jeans, you subtly grab his crotch as you palm his hardened length, his breathing growing heavier.

“You’re still that needy?” He chuckles and you nod, boring your eyes into his as you lean forward to pepper kisses on his jaw.

You whine when his deft fingers rub your slit, coating his digits with your cum. “Fuck me, please. It’s been so long.”

“I know baby, I know.” He suddenly shoves two fingers in your sloppy hole, a moan slipping past your lips. “Gotta stretch you first for my cock.”

The sudden yet pleasurable stretch has your eyes rolling back in your skull, his skillful fingers pumping in and out of your heat at a delirious pace as your hands fist the sheets beneath you. His thumb comes rubbing at your clit and your hips jerk in his palm, loud moans escaping your parted lips. The stretch of a third finger in your walls has your orgasm spiraling at full speed, untamed pleasure hitting you for the fourth time tonight, your lips parting in a silent scream as you plop your head back down on the sheets.

“Fuck,” the man curses under his breath as he lazily fucks you through your climax, his own hard-on becoming way too painful. You slowly catch your breath as his fingers slip out of your heat and he presses his hips into yours, your thighs caging his waist.

You smile up at him through closed eyes, your high slowly descending and when your heartbeat regains its original pace, you open your eyes.

And your smile falters.

Familiar cold dark orbs are staring right back at you instead of the warm brown of Taehyung’s pupils, and you try to squirm away but find it impossible as the same invisible force pins you down.

“I– you–”

He chuckles.

“Sugarplum, long time no see.” His hand strokes your hair and you whimper, your legs still locked around the man’s waist.

“Please,” you whisper weakly, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“I don’t want to hurt you, sugarplum.”

In this new lighting and his proximity, you can see the man’s face clearer than any of the previous encounters. As he leans forward to nose at your cheek, you can finally see his features and your lips part in shock.

His eyes are beautiful. A dazing shape, his dark orbs morphing into soft doe eyes, the tip of his nose almost kissable and his lips– God, his lips look delicious. Soft, plump lips so inviting, and you can’t help the hand hovering his face, your fingers gently caressing his plumpness. His dark hair falls messily around his head and you have the sudden urge to comb your fingers through his locks just to feel the silk-like strands through your digits.

He is demonically magnificent.

His free hand reaches to envelop your curious one, his eyes boring into yours. You shudder under his gaze and instead of cowering, you bring your other hand to push a strand away from his forehead.

“See? I’m no monster.” He smiles sweetly– almost too sweetly– and you gulp.

“What do you want from me?”

“I’ve told you countless times, sugarplum.”

His hand slides to your wrist in a harsh grip and you gasp as the other hand curls around your neck, squeezing your throat as he cuts off your air supply.

“Let me in.”

You whimper as the grip on your throat is unbearable, making you writhe under his hold. His hips ruth into yours and your naked cunt rubs against the material of his pants harshly, the outline of his obviously hard cock digging into your slit. As you feel yourself slowly falling into unconsciousness, he releases your throat and ascends down to your collarbone, reaching your tube top and pulling it down, a moan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your bare breasts. Each of his hand cups your mounds, his thumbs and forefingers pinching each pebbled nipple as you whine, your teeth caging your lower lip in a futile attempt to keep quiet. He notices that and releases a breast to harshly slap your thigh around his waist. You jolt in surprise and look at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t hold back. You sounded so sweet earlier.”

He doesn’t let you respond as he dives his head in, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck on the mound as he squeezes the other with his hand, pinching the nub in between his fingers. The moan that escapes your lips is unraveling, your hips automatically grinding against his in hope to find purchase. When he’s done with one breast, he does the same to the other one before pulling away, a hand stroking your hair affectionately as he stares at you.

“So beautiful.”

The blush on your cheeks isn’t going unnoticed and he smirks, his gaze lingering on your breasts heaving due to your ragged breathing. He then looks back up at your face before leaning forward and gently pecking your lips in a close-mouthed kiss, once, twice, then he starts trailing down your jaw to your neck, sucking bruises for everyone to see. You whine as you thread your fingers in his hair, and before you register it he has plunged two fingers in your heat, your stomach clenching to oversensitivity.

You moan as you buck your hips in his hand, surprised to even have enough energy to respond to the demon’s ministrations. His fingers are thick enough to hit all the right places and when his thumb strokes your engorged clit, your fifth orgasm of the night couldn’t have come sooner, a drawn-out moan escaping your swollen lips. As your walls squeeze his fingers deeply in your pussy, he groans above you before planting kisses down your throat. Leaning away from your neck as he pulls his fingers out, your arousal drips down his digits and you see strings of your slick juices connecting them when he parts them. Embarrassment manifesting in the red of your cheeks, you stare at the man happily lapping at his arousal-coated fingers, his pink lips wrapped around the skin.

“H–how did I get here?” You quietly ask as soon as your breathing came to normal. His furrowed eyebrows encourage the next words flowing past your lips, his digits falling free from the grip of his lips.

“I– I wasn’t asleep nor drunk and–”

The entire evening you made sure that you weren’t drinking too much, even had Justin’s special party booze out of tonight’s menu. Surely, you would remember if you had fallen asleep. Wait, had you passed out while Taehyung was fucking you? No way, you weren’t drunk. You hadn’t taken any substance or drugs or pills-

Pills. Blue, soft, dangerous pills.

Realization hits you in the guts and you suddenly find it hard to breathe. The way he had kissed your neck, your momentarily forgotten cup on the counter, his wandering hands–

“He,” you whisper, breath hitching as you choke out a whimper, “he drugged me?”

Gently, he places a kiss on your cheek. “Sugarplum.”

“He– he drugged me, and that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” The aching in your chest is too much for your heavy state and you start blinking away tears you didn’t know had started to pool at the corner of your eyes.

He sighs above you, his breath fanning over your face. Plopping down on the space next to you on the bed as he frees himself from the grip your thighs had around him, his hand gently strokes your naked waist until he reaches your breast, softly rubbing the skin as his thumb lightly flicks over your nipple. In an attempt to soothe your pain, you assume.

Trust is overrated, you conclude.

Here you are; crying over a man you’d learn to like over the past few years as the man you’ve been running from comforts your burning heart.

“It is,” he affirms and you don’t even question how he managed to answer your unspoken thoughts. The sob that breaks past your lips is heart wrenching and you bring your hands to your face, covering the entirety of it as the tears flow freely down your face.

He turns to you and envelops your shaken form in his embrace, your chest pressed against his as he runs a soothing hand down the expanse your bare back. And that’s how you fall asleep that night, without the nightmare that usually haunts your sleepless mind and instead, you find solace in the very man you’d grown to despise.

-----

#jungkook reader #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook #jungkook smut #smut #angst #fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #taehyung #kim taehyung

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faorism · 3 years ago

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as previously mentioned, eventually, hardison won’t be the only one doing his new line of work; he’ll train them up. he'll have a small but dedicated team of chaotic good geniuses. he names them tikkun, meaning "to repair," referencing tikkun olam, "the obligation to repair the world around you" (as brilliantly suggested & defined by @piratedykes).

he is doing his george clooney satellite monitoring and the group has a reputation because boy do NGOs and nonprofits and activists and community organizers like to fucking gossip about shit especially when it goes right?? or rather, one person in one org's fundraising team will reach out to their counterpart in another org and be like...... yo you were frantic last week about [challenge] and how you have to raise like a bajilliion dollars in emergency funds and also ideally take down a warlord but you will settle for money for water and first aid, and i havent heard from you but.... your org's twitter is like, popping right now and it looks like [challenge] has evaporated?? how??? are you okay the hell.

and second fundraising officer is like...... it.......... is good. its been the weirdest wildest week but its good.

and the first officer is like............. no wtf do not leave me like this. how did you do it.

lets say consultants.

consultants?

listen. can't say more. but if everything ever really really goes to shit, and i do mean really, just... consider applying for the rapid response flexible spending grant from the tikkun fund (NOT the tikkun olam foundation, different folx). lets just say that $850 from tikkun goes a long long way.

and the first officer looks it up, and the fund has a boring but efficient website. the fund is barely three years old but they have a small but mighty giving portfolio of tiny tiny orgs like their own, and when this first officer rubén follows through and delves deep into the orgs...... they notice..... wow these folks really had....... a suspicious amount of good luck swing their way at very critical moments.

rubén sits back and is like. huh. okay. weird. but they trust their friend and they keep the tikkun fund in the back of their mind. and one day, yup, theres a fucking crisis and god, god [their community] needs money and the situation is not a blip on anyone's radar outside [their community] but this matters too! and rubén remembers that little fund and yeah, $850 can't fix it next to nothing but that's $850 they desperately desperately need. and luckily the application is super short and rubén gets the vibes their reporting requirements are gonna be super quick and easy as well. so they submit it and then they go and turn around to shake money from somewhere anywhere and.... by the end of the business day, they are wrapping up because they've already worked three hours late and they havent eaten since lunch aka an old granola bar in the back of their file cabinet, and....... what. is that........... yeah. their tikkun fund application has been accepted with clear instructions about how they can proceed to get payment. and rubén wants to cry god god okay.

and rubén sends a quick email to this alec hardison (he/him/mr. but please alec is fine) thanking him profusely and so earnestly, cc'ing wyn the org's executive director. rubén goes home and Do Not Disturb's their work stuff and is ready to start it all over the next day.... but. when they get to the office, they find out wyn has organized an emergency meeting looking... confused and hopeful and so wildly excited. there's a guy next to her dressed smart, but what really stands out with his eyes: they are kind and welcoming but there's a coy twinkle in them like he's got a secret he's itching to share.

and wyn is like. hey so. this is alec hardison and blah blah introduction stuff. (and rubén is like omgggg internally) we spoke last night, and mr hardison's agreed to come on pro bono with his team to assist us and... okay. okay imma be real here for a moment. there's some stuff that's gonna be on the down low here on out and if you don't want part of it, you can take leave for the next week or two we will give you space, but... we know what will happen if shit continues and im not standing for it. i hope you will join me, but you won't be forced. and she turns to please-just-alec who thanks her and turns to the exhausted team and says:

in the jewish faith, we got this concept. tikkun olam, meaning our obligation to repair our world. it takes heroic and wise eyes to see what's wrong around us, and to follow that urge is what we must do as people sharing this planet we call home. and listen, i didn't know about y'all before yesterday, but i can see just how much you've been putting in day in and out for your community. you're the good guys. and when you're doing all that good against so much bad, sometimes, sometimes it feels like you ain't got no one in your corner. but i hope together, with the support of my tikkun crew, we can repair what has been hurt and damaged. and yall, and here, alec lets that secret out in a smile, i cannot wait to fuck some shit up alongside you.

#alec hardison #leverage #leverage redemption spoilers #can you tell i worked in fundraising #of hearth and home and other promises #faorism headcanons #maybe ill post this to ao3 #long post #i need to figure out how to make a read more on a phone

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omegawolverine · 4 years ago

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Braid Me a Home

summary:

"Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

A story about the Sleepy Bois being family, told through braids.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: child neglect, hurt/no comfort, canonical character death, implied/referenced mental health issues (like it’s obvious but there isn’t much detail to it), brief blood mentions (ik this fic sounds kinda angsty as hell but its not? imo its light angst)

a/n: first dream smp fic and im ALREADY projecting? christ. anyways. go easy on me pls this is far from my best work i just havent written a fic in like 5 months (more if you dont count the fucking chat fics) mm also i may have posted this like a week ago on ao3 just to test the waters and its already gotten way more comments and kudos than any fic of mine usually gets this early on so hopefully tumblr enjoys it too :]

—

When Wilbur Soot was born, he came out crying, as most babies do. Covered in vernix and blood, he weighed just barely above the seven-pound mark, gasping out sharp cries that only a parent could truly stand, or worse—love. Though he was the second baby born into the family that day, he was fussed over far more than he would ever be again.

Technoblade, on the other hand, had barely made a sound when he came out, a trail of blood smeared across his forehead, almost as if it was meant to be there. He made small noises that were more akin to confused mumbles, weakly grasping at his father’s hair when he was eventually passed on for the second child to be welcomed into the world.

Only when both boys were held in their father’s grasp did Wilbur quiet down, his soft head leaning into his father’s beard as he stared wide eyed at the boy across from him. Though they looked similar enough, Technoblade’s nose was squished further back into his face, appearing almost snout-like to Philza. Of course Wilbur noted this, wiggling until their father somehow managed to get them pressed right up against each other with minimal damage done. Though Techno never stopped squinting like an annoyed old man at Wilbur, he allowed the other to press a fist against his nose, his eyebrows unfurrowing just the slightest bit at the touch.

From that day on, Philza was the father of two twin boys—a loud boy who cried easily, but always calmed down for his older brother, and a rather monotone one, who’s face seemed to be permanently stuck in a scowl, unless said face was being smushed around by the younger. And things worked like that for a while. Not forever, but...a while.

—

Philza taught Wilbur to braid on a hot Monday afternoon.

It had been a rough day for the boy, though Phil hadn’t a clue why. Maybe he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Or maybe he hadn’t slept enough between bedtime and the time Tommy had started crying again, the youngest boy’s crib being right beside his head and all. Though it might’ve seemed cruel from an outsider’s perspective, Wilbur had been the one to ask for it. Something about Tommy being his little brother and how he needed to teach the boy the ways of the world in the same way Techno had taught him—because apparently that was all Techno’s doing now, not Phil’s.

Regardless, Wilbur had been a bit too snippy for Phil’s liking that day, complaining about every little thing they did until finally, the day was over.

Well, as over as it could be with Techno leaving mid foam sword fight, an annoyed shout of ‘I quit!’ leaving his mouth before he snatched up Tommy’s carrier and brought him inside for god knows what reason.

It had only been around four P.M. by that time—too early for dinner, yet too late for Phil to really demand the boy stay outside and continue to entertain himself with a brother who was clearly not entertained himself.

Details aside, Phil isn’t really sure how they got to braiding. He just knows at some point they did and by the end of their outside time, just before the clock struck six, Wilbur had made two thick, messy braids in his hair. They stuck out awkwardly, looking all too similar to Pippi Longstocking’s iconic hairdo for his comfort, but he’d be damned if he took out the braids his son had so happily rushed inside to show his older brother before demanding to do his hair as well. After all, Wilbur didn’t have long enough hair for braids, but Technoblade sure as hell did. It was only at his shoulder blades back then, brunette curls wrapping around his narrow shoulders and thin arms like thick vines.

Wilbur had always enjoyed brushing it out with his fingers and putting cute, handmade clips or flowers in it at random, decorating the waves for his brother who was more than happy to let the boy do as he pleased. Though he would never admit it, Technoblade liked how it felt when Will played with his hair. He was always careful not to tug too hard, prioritizing the comfort of his other half more than the beauty of his work, as he so often referred to it.

So when Will had presented him with the mess that was his first two braids, he wasn’t hesitant at all to let the boy practice on him. Instead, he walked to the couch with a small smile, removing his glasses gently and getting comfortable before his brother plopped down into the space behind him. Long legs draped over long legs with no warning, thighs pressed together as if they were meant to be like that all along—and they might as well have been, for how often they did this.

Phil had watched them from the doorway in content silence, Tommy sitting behind him in a wooden high chair looking bored, but not making a fuss for once. And as he left that doorway to begin dinner, he listened to their muffled conversation and soft bursts of laughter with a small smile on his lips, for he knew things wouldn’t always be this way. They would have to grow up eventually, and when they did, things would change. Phil could only hope it was for the better.

—

When Tommy turns nine, Wilbur teaches him to braid under circumstances not too different from the ones he had learned under himself.

Well. Not too too different.

Philza and Technoblade had been...busy as of late. In the house for three days, out for a week, in for a week, out for three more, over and over and over again. Wilbur had become more like a father to Tommy in recent months than he should’ve been, his fourteenth birthday fast approaching as their father took Techno out for yet another job, one that Wilbur couldn’t come on because he was too fucking weak to do anything Techno could do, too fucking stupid to learn all the techniques Techno did, lacking all the strength and agility his older sibling possessed, like the useless prick he was-

Right. This is about Tommy.

When Tommy was nine, his hair rested gently against his collarbones in the exact same cut and color as their father wore. If Wilbur was a lesser man, he would’ve hated the kid for it, but it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t see what a selfish git their father truly was yet. All he knew was that their dad was busy a lot and that, for some reason, Techno needed to go with him. Apparently, that was enough for him to keep holding onto the idea that one day, the man would stay longer and maybe, just maybe, show him some of the same care that his older brother did.

If Wilbur was a better man, he would tell Tommy the truth. He would tell him all about the way Philza had called him useless in a fight, forcing him to instead stay home and care for a child while still being one himself. He would mention how Philza had given him no instructions on how to care for a developing child, how he left out key details to parenting on his own as a goddamn thirteen-year-old, yet remembered to tell him things would be better this way because god forbid he does his fucking job as a father for anyone but Technoblade—

Who he missed. He missed Technoblade, his other half, so fucking bad it hurt sometimes—so bad it left him gasping for breath at two A.M., his head pounding in tandem with his uneven heartbeat, lungs burning as his snot and tears soaked into his brother’s cold, cold sheets. And it made him feel fucking pathetic because the truth of the matter was that...Techno had left him behind too. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the older boy, no matter how hard he tried. Couldn’t hate Philza either, if he were to be honest with himself, but it was a lot easier to pretend he did when his father was the one putting them all in this position to begin with.

So, Tommy was nine when he learned how to braid.

Phil had promised him and Techno would be back Tuesday morning.

It was Wednesday afternoon.

Tommy didn’t fucking understand, and as frustrating as it was that the prick decided to take it out on Wilbur, he couldn’t blame him. Who else was he supposed to take this shit out on? Certainly not the man who had yet to return.

Wilbur had started the braid as a way to distract him. It was simple, really—tell him you know something he doesn’t and that he won’t get to know if he doesn’t sit the fuck down and listen.

When he had started tugging the boy’s hair back from his face, his immediate reaction was to jerk away, swatting at the hands that hovered over his shoulders. This only happened once or twice more before he let it happen naturally, his posture stiff as Wilbur ran his fingers through the boy’s hair with practiced ease.

Though it may not have seemed like it, Tommy was significantly more averse to touch than Techno had ever been. The only reason Techno even seemed averse to it was because of his hesitance to initiate, something he and Wilbur had discussed in depth. Rejection was one of the few fears Technoblade truly had and Wilbur held that fact close to his heart, ready to die with it if need be. Tommy, on the other hand? He was very particular about where and when and why someone was touching him, and it had taken Wilbur a long time to get used to that fact. But, he wasn’t about to make his little brother uncomfortable just so he could be happy and, eventually, he learned the ins and outs of how to touch TommyInnit without causing issue.

Pulling a few of the shorter strands towards the front of Tommy’s face loose, Will separated the blonde’s hair into three sections. They were rather small, what with how thin and short his hair was, it just barely being long enough to even have a proper braid in it, but Wilbur knew he could make it work.

“Now, Toms, you gotta listen to me here, because I can’t show you this bit, yeah? Phil and Tech aren’t here, and my hair is too short, so you’ll just have to feel it out for now, but...this is how you braid hair-” Wilbur had said in a soft voice, brushing the pad of his thumb over the boys neck slowly to ease the tension out of his shoulders. The effect was immediate, the boy slouching forward as if he had just noticed he was holding himself so sternly. Smiling softly, Wilbur instructed him on how to weave the strands together, answering questions and pulling lightly at Tommy’s hair so he could feel exactly where everything went. After he was done, Tommy had reached back to feel the bumps in his hair, all his earlier anger seemingly gone as he gave a small smile. And then he tried it himself.

Of course he got a bit of help at first, Wilbur’s larger hands guiding his own with gentle corrections, but after that Tommy worked on it alone, his older brother watching in silence from a patch of grass beside the porch step.

That night, Tommy and Wilbur slept in Techno’s bed, a soft, blue blanket wrapped tightly around them. And if another body woke them up at some point that night, shoving its way into the mess of limbs, their chest pressed right up against the youngest boy’s back, then that was only for them to know.

—

At eleven years old, Tommy takes a pair of scissors to his hair. With flushed cheeks and salty lips, his hands shaking and his eyes foggy, he cuts, cuts, cuts, until he can no longer braid his hair—until he can no longer look like fucking Phil.

Even though Wilbur had once said he hated Tommy’s long hair—hated how similar he and their dad looked—he felt like crying as he ran his fingers through the uneven strands. He didn’t tell his brother this though, instead grabbing his face and planting a wet kiss on his freckled forehead. In a fierce whisper, Wilbur had said, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Tommy. So fucking proud.”

Tommy never forgets the way he felt that day. He doesn’t forget Wilbur’s words either.

—

When Wilbur loses his last life, Technoblade tells Tommy to braid his hair.

It wasn’t a question either, but a demand forced out between gritted teeth, his face red, his nose stuffy and his lashes wet with unshed tears. Still, his words were clear as day.

“Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

Tommy sniffled, but did as he was told.

Maybe it was because he was too tired to argue with the only person he even had left. Maybe it was because he could tell Technoblade was mad at their father for the first time in his life, and he knew how bad his first time had felt. Or, maybe, it was just because he knew Techno fucking cared. Nobody else seemed to, but he knew Techno did and...that was enough for him.

As long as someone else cared—as long as it was fucking Technoblade—that was enough for him.

Just as Tommy had finished the braid, curling his finger around the light pink tail that tied the whole thing off, Techno yanked it forward. Before he could even register that the hair had left his hand, the older boy had taken an axe to the top of it, letting the rest of his hair fall around his face in uneven curls. Though it was a good ten minutes of work wasted, Tommy couldn’t say a damn thing as he watched Techno pocket the braid, muttering a thank you and heading in the direction of Wilbur’s unofficial grave.

In that moment, he felt relief for the first time in a long while.

—

Wilbur Soot was born covered in vernix and blood, weighing just barely above the seven-pound mark, and he came into the world much like he left it. Everyone had heard his cries—even if they weren’t there, even if they didn’t know him well—they had saw the way he spiraled, desperate and afraid and paranoid, searching for help, but never receiving enough.

And though he was the second child born, he left the world first, returning in a yellow sweater with a small braid tucked behind his ear. He didn’t really know why he had one, but he remembered braiding Techno’s hair and he remembered teaching Tommy how to do his own and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered the braids.

#dream smp #/dsmp #dsmp #sleepy bois inc #sbi #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #technoblade #philza #ph1lza #fic #fics #fanfic #fanfiction #the dream smp #shit self #dami writez #/rp #dsmp fic

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unorthodoxdeity · 2 years ago

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that last post didn't scratch the itch im making a long post. all my thoughts. all my opinions. my life story. this literally does not matter and is paragraphs of bullshit but i dont want to feel like im operating with a filter so im putting it out. your regularly scheduled programming will resume shortly but for now this is happening.

Okay so I've been in fandom spaces for a while. They've morphed and changed quite a bit. I think they have all the same problems just manifested differently. It also feels more isolated. They feel quieter. I don't know if it's because most of my fandoms are dead and I havent adapted well to whatever else is happening but it feels like fandom culture is on its deathbed in a way. Well not fandom culture as a whole, that will always exist in some form. I think its moreso just a metamorphosis mixed with me being into older content with smaller followings. This is just my view. I have zero wider perspective on what the whole is like. I couldn't tell you of any big places to talk about fandom related things that aren't vaguely tumblr and twitter. There will always be dedicated pockets of something. This is just about my pocket. The whole it's more isolated thing is also probably just my problem.

I've seen the shipping debate happening my entire time here. It's always existed in different ways. I think there are a lot of ways you could define both sides. I think there are a lot of things both sides have to argue over. It depends on the person and how they view the debates really. I know a lot of people define it on terms of harassment and others define it on terms of what they're morally okay with harassment or no harassment.

I'm not going to attempt to pin definitions on either side currently mostly because I just don't care. I think that miscommunication is what stifles a lot of progress though. There isn't reslly much to progress to either way. People will do what they think is right and its not like there's any solid achievable end goal for either side (in my eyes, someone might have a reachable goal idk).

I've been involved with the debate a lot. When I was like 10-12 I was a proshipper by definition I guess. I didn't call myself that. I didn't care I just shipped what I wanted.

When I grew a bit older and started getting involved with more online debate I became an anti. I actually called myself that one. I don't know what flicked the switch. I think I was turned off by the gung ho "I'm going to draw fucked up shit for shock value" attitude a lot of proshippers had. It was the whole "these damn puriteens" "get minors off the internet" and general talking down to people who had legitimate concerns thing that ruffled my feathers looking back. I know most proshippers are not like this. I also know a lot of it wasn't for shock value.

There were a lot of reasons people did the things they did. Some were coping, some were approaching it with the same attitude I had when I was 12. A lot of them were sick and tired of people trying to talk down to them with their concerns as if they had the full moral highground. Nobody really likes the holier than thou attitude unless they agree with the person I've found which is reasonable. Who wants to be told what to do?

That carried on. I debated with people with the same high horse that I hated on other people. Then I got tired. Every time I opened my phone my heart was racing it was so dumb lmao. Arguing was like crack. I eventually realized that and just stopped. It wasn't just the shipping debate I was involved in those stupid identity politics and was involved with more important actual politics and debating homophobes and people who were probably trolls. Probably not the healthiest thing in the world. Did not do my health any favors. One day i just stopped.

I don't know what flipped that switch I think I just tuckered myself out. I didn't go on social media much. I went outside and touched grass as I had told so many people to do. The grass was nice. The sun was shining and there were even trees and real people (woah).

Then quarantine eventually happened and I was inside and online. I wasn't in my old unhinged frenzy though, I actually went back and deleted all of my accounts to start from scratch. I had no opinions on much fandom discourse and the opinions I did have I just kept to myself. I still saw things that pissed me off but that wasn't my problem.

I downloaded tumblr again after like years. Joined fandom spaces. Once again was faced with that old discourse. Ironically enough a ship I had enjoyed was confirmed to be incest and I was in such a quarantined haze at that point I just said fuck it and forced myself to agree with proshippers and quite literally abandoned any moral values I had. Looking back that was so funny. I never treated it like a fall from grace. I treated it like a fuck you.

It wasn't that dramatic or anything. I wasn't punching the air and seething when I saw either side. I was moreso just doing what I wanted because I could and happened to interact with proshippers so I just like called myself that. I became more involved with their values and oh boy my horse is getting higher!!!

I think that's just a problem I have when it comes to any sort of debate. I get really full of myself. That's fucking annoying I know. Anyways as I was flexing how cool and subversive I was I realized I wasn't having fun anymore. That happened any time I got too wrapped up in an ideology. It was no longer about the thing it was about the approach to the thing. I did a similar thing with identity politics. I wasn't me I was my labels.

I feel like this was a really bad representation of how I was as a proshipper. I kind of framed it as me intentionally agreeing with them but it wasn't just that. It was like another flip switched but it was also moreso me swallowing my pride and that pride getting replaced with a different kind of pride. I wasn't in as much as an unhinged frenzy because I had set rules on How I can debate. (No debating after 9pm, you can not respond if they don't respond in under 10 minutes, if you call them names you have to stop ect.). It was tamer because I had to learn how to be tame and I did. It worked. The rules started to become more rigid and my urge to debate almost depleted.

I stopped focusing outward and returned to how I was when I was 12 almost. I shipped my fuckshit and had an occasional gloat about my moral superiority over those damn antis. Nothing really special for a twitter user.

I made friends during my stay in both communities. They were all good people. None of the people I befriended threatened anybody or did anything you heard from those horror stories. None of them were pedophiles. They were just opinionated nerds most of which had trauma that guided their opinions. You were also bound to be outcast if you disagreed with them though. It's how relationships formed based off opinions go, especially online.

I don't talk to any of them anymore, there was no fight we just drifted apart. That was okay. I can't say my stay in either community was better or worse than the other. I think most of it was determined by my self control. How much I would indulge in being vile to someone and having them be vile back in retaliation. I did forget to have fun along the way in both though.

I've come to the conclusion I don't necessarily like being part of any community. I don't like the culture of either.

For starters I don't like how people on both sides will accuse the other of being pedos (proshippers accusing antis of projecting, antis accusing proshippers of being pedos because of fiction). It's just baselessly throwing around something that's become a buzzword.

I don't like how a lot of fetishization gets wrapped up in the proship community (specifically towards trans people). I don't like how poppytwt formed (i know a lot of proshippers agree with me on this one) or rpf. I don't like how both sides call the other cult like because it's also baselessly throwing buzzwords around. The comparisons of legitimate real world issues sparked by religious institutions also rubs me entirely the wrong way.

I don't like how some antis feel the need to "punish" proshippers. It's not your place and once you start hurting real world people over fiction you're just making yourself into the badguy in the situation. I've also seen proshippers intentionally go out of their way to give antis similar treatment. Equally dumb. Neither community is a hivemind but yknow. Those sour apples exist everywhere.

I think i just generally don't like being told what to do or dictated. Yes that's childish I know.

Idk I think both have their reasons. Like yes it's just fiction and yes fiction does have impacts, I think those can coexist. When it comes to harassment I don't think that's cool in any context when it spawns from fiction. That probably makes me a proshipper in a lot of people's books and like if that's your framework of viewing it cool.

I think I've just chosen to like. Win the game by not playing. I'm not either purely because I choose not to be and just do what I want outside of that. That's probably annoying. Which is fair.

I don't hate people that choose to allign themselves with either side they're not like less than or anything. If you're not going around harassing anybody then you're always chill. Like idk just because I find the debate annoying and tiresome doesn't mean I find most people like that. If that makes any sense idk. Moreso to say its my problem not yours. Like most of my distaste for debate comes from what I've experienced due to my own lack of self control.

It also kinda feels like running with a filter though. Like I'm so worried about getting back to that point I avoid saying half the things I want to say. Then that leads to a little burnout of its own because of some weird obligatory feeling.

I think most ppl here are chill like nobody is too wrapped up in their own ideology that they stop having fun like I was. Their opinions are the side dish not the main course which is respectable and difficult to do if you struggle with your horse getting some fucking Growth Spurts like I do.

I don't know why I'm posting this here exactly. I think its to show where I'm coming from and removing the filter ig. I think I've generally gotten better at containing myself that I can say things and not feel the need for it to spiral into a month long debate with someone. The horse is off steroids ig. I acknowledge that I'm still probably very unlikable to a lot of people which is fine it can be offputting no matter where you lean.

Okay thoughts organized into very chaotic long post back to blorbo shitto posting

#long post #discourse

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shhhhyoursister · 4 years ago

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okay im gonna post this right before i go to bed because i havent posted new stuff in a while and its like AHH but okay so here is the first of the unfinshied/unedited things ive written, and the first of the two lets say..... niche aus i have.....very niche and very exposing of how much of a loser i am!!

i mentioned this one a few times and before everything got bad in the world i had so many ideas but here yall go here is my beloved davenzi pokemon au i hope all you other losers enjoy

(also please excuse all the brackets i write things out of order but always need to make notes of what happens in between)

Matteo pushed the door open, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and let out a loud yawn as he stretched an arm over his head. He raised the glass of Pinap juice to his mouth and took a sip, smiling around the rim as he looked out at the large meadow behind his house.

The berry trees were growing tall around the perimeter of the fence, patches of grass at various lengths sprouting out of the ground. The large pond off to the side had its own waterfall, a feature his mother was extremely proud of, and he could admit that it added a little something special to the space

It wasn’t much, but they did what they could with what they had. It was enough for the Pokémon they cared for, at least.

At that thought, he felt something tugging at his pants, and he glanced down and smiled at the Vulpix at his feet. Its teeth were caught in the fabric but he reached down to pat it on the head anyway, knowing that was just its way of greeting him. It let go and stood next to him, like it was expecting something.

“What do you want?” he asked, poking it lightly in the side with his foot, and laughed when it rolled onto its back and latched onto it with its paw, and tried to secure its hold with the leg that was missing one. Matteo got it off easy and it sprung back up, ready to play.

He rolled his eyes, and walked further out into the meadow, the Vulpix trotting along happily beside him. There were a few Pokémon that he needed to check on before breakfast for himself or the rest of the Pokémon roaming around the property, and he wanted to get it done fast because the Tauros with the bandage over its eye was snorting at him from over in its usual corner. He quickened his pace.

He was looking for the Luvdisc that his mother had found a few days before, alone and hungry in shallow water, and his eyes scanned over the mostly clear water, trying to catch any sign of the pink water-type swimming around. He saw it just as it darted around a Buizel and behind a rock, seeming to be in much better shape than the day before. He was about to turn and head to the small shed in the back where they kept some of the Pokémon in more serious condition, but he looked up when he heard the door slide open, and his mom call his name.

“Matteo, Jonas is here to say bye!” She yelled out, and he turned and started making his way back.

“I didn’t get to look at the Pachirisu yet.” He said, jogging up to her. She was smiling softly at him, her long brown hair pulled back in a bandana. She was holding a bowl in her arms, no doubt the breakfast she had been making for the Pokémon when he had come downstairs that morning

“Don’t worry about that, go see your friend, and wish him luck!” she said, walking out the back door, “He’s going to battle his next gym leader!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matteo muttered as he walked past her, setting his glass down as he went.

He found Jonas by the front door, six Pokéballs attached to his waist, and a large bag on his back. He had his Jigglypuff out of its ball by his side, and it started bouncing when Matteo got closer.

“Hey, Luigi!” Jonas exclaimed, pulling him in for a hug, and Matteo squeezed his arms around his backpack. The hug was bittersweet, and he almost didn’t want to let go. He didn’t have many friends in his little town, and his responsibilities at the Pokémon Sanctuary made it difficult to go too far.

“You feeling ready?” Matteo asked, knowing what Jonas was going to say. He had always been confident, and was getting through the gyms at a rapid pace.

“Of course, bro,” he said, grinning and punching Matteo in the arm, “I feel ready to battle anyone after beating that ghost-type gym leader. That was rough, it took me four fucking tries!”

Matteo nodded as Jonas went off. Matteo had heard the stories many times, not just from Jonas, but similar ones from other trainers in his town; the gym leader that happened to be the closest to them also happened to be one of the toughest. His Pokémon were strong, he was strong, but most importantly his connection to each of them was strong. He was admired, envied, and heavily respected.

Nobody knew anything about him, though.

The gym was off deep in the woods, off of one of the random routes running through their town. It was not only hard to find, but hard to navigate, as once one entered it was quite clear that the house was designed to keep people out. There were traps and dead ends and looping hallways that all just led back to the beginning, and Jonas said it took him hours to even find the staircase that led to the gym leader.

“I should be heading off if I want to get to the city before it’s dark,” Jonas said, and extended his arms for another hug. Matteo squeezed him again, and said his own goodbye before Jonas ruffled his hair and went out the door, the Jigglypuff following close behind. Matteo let out a sigh, and walked back through his house.

“Matteo, can you come here a second?” he heard his mother call from the kitchen, and he sighed again and poked his head into the room.

“Yeah, mama?” He asked, itching to get back outside. He had been making progress with the skittish Ponyta that hid whenever anyone else came near it, and he had been wanting to see if it would eat out of his hand that morning.

“You seem sad,” she said, and he stopped himself from rolling his eyes and walked further into the kitchen as she continued, “you’re not usually sad when Jonas or your other friends go off to battle.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to miss him,” he said, knowing that wasn’t all, “last time he left he didn’t come back for a month. And I haven’t seen Abdi or Carlos in longer than that, and I don’t even know where Amira is right now.”

His mother nodded. She had heard him say that before, note that as the reason he was upset anytime the idea of gyms or badges or battling was brought up. She walked over to him and put a hand on his cheek, and smiled gently.

“You know, if you want to take a break from this and train, you can.”

Matteo closed his eyes. It was something she had offered before, and he knew that there was almost no way he would be willing to take her up on it. The sanctuary was too important to him, no matter how much he might’ve wanted a party of his own. He didn’t need his own Pokémon when there were dozens that needed him right at home.

“I’m not going to stop helping you here, mama,” Matteo responded as usual, “this is more important than winning a few gym badges.”

“You wouldn’t even have to stop if you don’t want to,” she said, patting him on the cheek and moving back over to the stove where she was cooking their breakfast, “if you want to do both, find some Pokémon from the sanctuary. I’m sure some of them would be more than happy to battle with you.”

Matteo laughed sarcastically, and then actually thought about what his mother said, and his mouth drew into a line. He didn’t know if he wanted to put that burden on any of the Pokémon that they were caring for, even though he knew in the back of his head that some would be willing and able. He thought about that little Vulpix that would follow behind him and nip at his heels, and the Butterfree that would always swoop over his head and chirp happily at him, and even the Tauros with the eyepatch liked him as long as he was fed.

“I don’t know,” he settled on, and then turned to the door, “I’m going to check on the rest.”

****

Later that night, Matteo was sitting out on the roof outside of his room, after climbing through the window. It looked out over the entire sanctuary, but it was too dark for him to see much. He could see some small ripples in the water in the pond, but beyond that the only thing he could make out were sounds. He could hear something, probably a Rattata or Sandshrew, scratching and digging around the grass, and the melodic chirps of a Kricketot. He heard the same Noctowl as before cooing quietly in one of the trees, and he closed his eyes as a breeze blew by.

They were the sounds he had grown up with. Matteo was raised out in the sanctuary more than he was inside his own home. His mother and father had opened it soon after getting married, had built it into something highly respected in their community. They had a large staff working with them and they would get multiple calls each day from people finding injured Pokémon out in the wild.

There were photo albums full of him as an infant being stared at by a confused Pikachu, being (very carefully) held by a Kangaskhan, laughing as a Ledyba flew overhead. Once he was old enough he started working alongside his parents, and everyone in town loved the Florenzi’s, the couple that would save wild Pokémon with their wild son by their side.

When Matteo was around twelve, things went a little sour. His dad started talking more about battling, and gyms, and how cool it would be to go out and see the world beyond their small town. He tried to convince Matteo that they could go off and battle together, father and son, and when Matteo refused, his father had gone quiet. A few days later, he came down for breakfast to his mother crying, his father’s stuff gone, and six of the Pokémon from the sanctuary missing as well.

He took a deep pull from the joint in his mouth, remembering the fierce promise he had made to himself that morning; he would never, ever, leave his mother like his father did. Battling and gym badges weren’t worth it.

But there was something in the back of Matteo’s head that was starting to get louder as he sat there. Something saying that just going to one gym wouldn’t be the same; he could work at the sanctuary during the day, train with (willing) Pokémon at night, and in a few weeks make the short trip to the ghost-type gym. He wasn’t expecting that he’d win, no matter what gym he went to, but the desire for something more was unfortunately undeniable. Matteo hated what his father did, but could understand the urge to run away.

He stubbed the joint out and took one more look at the sanctuary before going back inside and getting ready for bed. As he climbed under the covers, he realized he made up his mind. His first task for the morning, alongside his usual morning chores, was to see which Pokémon wanted to, and were able to, battle.

****

[Matteo makes a party and its kind of a mishmash of misfits but it’s the best he can do because he doesn't want to go out and catch wild Pokémon especially when he has some that want to battle with him]

[He spends a few weeks training and it's really tough and they aren’t amazing but they're better than he expected, and he doesn't really get why they love him and listen to him the way they do]

[One day he decided that he's ready and he promises his mom that he's gonna be back that night and he goes off to find the ghost type gym]

[He finds the gym and it looks completely abandoned and he has to climb over a gate to get in but he does it and then he has to walk through this super creepy dark place and he's having a rough time and he's getting more and more scared and worried that he's in the wrong place and that what he's doing is a bad idea and that he should just turn around when-]

And then finally, a staircase.

Matteo saw it at the end of the hall and sighed in relief. He was exhausted, glad that his Pokémon were in their Pokéballs so they weren’t as tired as him. He wiped the sweat off of his brow, and then tied his bandana around his head to keep his hair out of his face as he walked towards the stairs. He placed his foot on the first one and winced at the loud creak that came from it. He walked up the stairs carefully, seeing a door as he got closer to the top.

He finally reached the top of the stairway, and his shoulders dropped when he saw the door. There was a board across it, blocking it off, and Matteo felt anger start to bubble up inside him. He had spent hours trying to find the fucking place, had banked on Jonas mentioning a staircase, and had gotten so hopeful when he saw it. He huffed and, like a child, kicked hard at the door. His jaw dropped when it swung open.

He carefully made his way inside, his eyes scanning around the large room, too dark for him to make anything out. There seemed to be a fog making it even harder to see, and he waved his arm in front of him to see if he could clear it away. He took a few steps, and then a few more, and was about to take another when he heard a quiet, “I’d stop there if I were you.”

Matteo’s head snapped up and he froze, unable to tell where the sudden voice came from. He could feel his breathing pick up, and he could even hear it in the silence that followed the voice, and was about to turn and bolt when he heard, also quiet but with a bit of a laugh under it, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just didn’t want you to fall in.”

Matteo whipped his head around, trying to figure out what he was about to fall in, when it seemed like the fog seemed to thin. He looked around the room as details became clearer, the blueish-green tiles on the walls and the white, chipped paint, and he looked down at his feet and stumbled back a few steps; he was standing right at the edge of what seemed to be a huge, empty, swimming pool.

Well, almost empty. As the fog cleared, Matteo could make out a figure on the other side, who seemed to be sitting on the edge, their feet dangling into the empty space below. He watched the figure kick off the edge and land with a quiet sound a few feet below in the pool itself, and then they started coming closer.

Matteo felt himself get nervous. Not scared, like he had been initially getting to the building, and wandering around in the dark, and when he had first come into the room and seen the fog. He was nervous, because there was no way that this person wasn’t the gym leader, which meant that he was about to battle a gym leader.

“Are you going to come down here?” The voice asked again, definitely coming from the approaching gym leader.

Matteo took a breath before looking around and spotting a ladder that led down into the pool. He made his way over on shaky legs and got himself down as carefully as he could, landing hard on his feet and stumbling a little. He righted himself just as he heard the gym leader stop, and he took another deep breath before looking up.

And he huffed out that breath, because the man standing in front of him had to be a dream, or maybe there was a Pokémon there that had some kind of power that was making him hallucinate, because there was no other explanation for how he was so beautiful. And Matteo knew that he shouldn’t have been focusing on that, but he was only human, and he was very, very gay.

“You’re quiet,” the gym leader said, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling, “you are here to battle, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Matteo said quickly, grabbing a hand around one of the Pokéballs around his waist, “my first one.”

He wanted to slap a hand over his face for saying that. He didn’t think that was good information to tell the person that he was about to battle if he wanted to seem confident, not that that wasn’t already out the window with his obvious panic. He watched the gym leader smile bright, and he wished it didn’t make his stomach jolt the way it did.

“Aw, you chose me to be your first?” he asked, placing a hand over his heart, “I’m honored.”

Matteo smiled. He was funny at least, even if he was going to beat Matteo and his Pokémon within six rounds probably.

“Mostly just out of convenience, this is the gym closest to me.” he explained, not really knowing how much he was supposed to be talking. He had no idea what he was doing, at all, but the gym leader didn’t seem to be rushing anything along.

“That makes sense, I’m not usually the first gym people come to. I don’t know why that is, though,” he stepped back and threw his arms out, “I try to make it nice, you know?”

Matteo snorted, “Yeah, that fence you have to hop to get in is really welcoming, and the board across the door really makes me feel at home.”

The gym leader laughed, and Matteo let himself laugh with him, losing a bit of the nerves he had coming in.

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” he said, and then grabbed a Pokéball seemingly out of thin air, threw it up and then as he caught it turned to Matteo and asked, “so, are you ready for your first battle? I’ll go easy on you.”

He said it was a slightly patronizing grin, so Matteo grabbed his own Pokéball in his hand, tilted his head with a sweet smile and said, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to.”

David looked happily surprised and nodded, and before Matteo could react he threw the Pokéball into the air, and a Mimikyu landed on the ground in front of him. Matteo looked at it in shock.

“You have a Mimikyu?” he asked, wanting to get closer to look. The Pokémon was looking at him, or at least the disguise part was, gently flopping around on top of the Pokémon it was concealing inside.

“Yeah, it was one of my first,” the gym leader said with a small smile, and then shook himself out of it and grinned cocikly, “which means it’s one of my strongest.”

Matteo nodded, and threw his own Pokéball into the air, Vulpix springing onto the ground in front of him. It looked ready, stanced and nose pointed at the Mimikyu in front of it. The battle started when the gym leader called out his first move.

And Matteo lost. Badly, and quickly, and if he wasn’t so worried about getting home so he could tend to his Pokémon he would've been more embarrassed. He dropped to his knees next to his Sandshrew as it trembled on the ground from the last attack laid on it by the gym leader’s second Pokémon.

“That was pretty good for a first try,” he heard echo through the room, and he looked up and pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“It wasn’t good. I wasn’t meant to be a trainer, and these Pokémon weren’t meant to battle. I should just give up.” He sighed, and held the Pokéball out so the Sandshrew could return to it and rest. He got up and dusted himself off, and saw the gym leader standing much closer than he had been.

“It’s not that you weren’t good, you just weren’t ready. You have a connection to these guys. I can see it.” the gym leader said earnestly, reaching his hand out.

“That doesn’t mean they should be battling,” he sighed, “they’re all from the sanctuary me and my mom have. I shouldn’t have made them do this.”

“You weren’t making them do anything,” the gym leader said quickly, “seriously, you can tell they’re enjoying it because they’re doing it with you. I’ve been a gym leader for a while, you should trust me on this. I know Pokémon.”

“Well, so do I,” Matteo said with an angry huff, making his mind up again, “and I’m done battling.”

He turned, ignoring the disappointed look on the face of the gym leader, and climbed up the ladder before hurrying home.

****

[Matteo really doesnt think hes gonna go back but the pokemon were having fun and he kinda wants to see david again so he starts training again, gets a bit stronger and goes back]

He found it easier the second time, and made his way through it easier the second time too, as if he actually remembered the way through the crazy maze inside. When he got to the top of the stairs and saw the boarded up door again he snorted, and took a deep breath before pushing his way into the room again.

He was greeted by the same thick fog, the same tiles around the walls, the same chipping paint, but he knew to not take too many steps in. He figured the gym leader knew he came in, as the fog started clearing again once he was in the room, and he saw the same figure seated in the same spot on the edge of the pool.

“Oh, the boy from the Pokémon sanctuary!” the gym leader called out as he jumped down onto the pool tiles, “I’ve been expecting you.”

Matteo laughed and said, “I didn’t think I was coming back, how could you have been expecting me?”

“I could see it in your eyes,” the gym leader took a few steps closer, “you want to win. Or you want to prove something. No matter what it is, you have a reason to be here.”

Matteo smiled before making his way down the ladder and into the pool. His feet hit the tiles and he turned around so he could the gym leader, who he was getting very tired of only referring to as ‘the gym leader’.

“What’s your name?” he asked quickly, before he could think better of it, “Like, I know your whole thing is being mysterious but I have a feeling I’m going to be coming back here again.”

“Oh, so we’re already on a first name basis?” the gym leader asked, spinning around and a few steps towards the wall he had been sitting on, and he leaned his back against it, smiling.

“I just figured it’ll save us time later. Easier to do it now than in a month when it’ll be awkward.” He shrugged, offering a half smile. He tried to play it off as a joke, but he wanted to know.

He watched the gym leader smile, and then bite his lip and look down at the floor. He tapped his foot on the ground a few times before kicking off the wall and saying, “Okay, then. I’m David.”

Matteo smiled, nodded, quietly responded, “I’m Matteo,” and took a Pokéball off of his belt.

#idk if im gonna tag these ahhh im just gonna leave it for now #it feels bittersweet posting this i had such fun ideas but #i just dont really see myself #writing fics any time in the near future #or continuing them #its sad but also i need to like focus on being a human ya know #hopeuflly more coming soon!!!!

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shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years ago

Text

tattooed on my heart steven adler x reader

+++++++++

havent done an actual imagine in a while so heres a super soft/cute one

imagine: steven dating an alternative/goth girl. hes a v soft boy and everyone is super confused how that works but he is absolutely smitten with her and her style.

song: fingers crossed by coin

tag list: @cynic-spirit @satans-arse

+++++++++

"hey, ill be right back."

i said standing off the couch and kissing steven gently.

"okay."

he said not wanting to let my hand go. we had been invited to a party and i was definitely feeling out of place. with their rock star life style i had anticipated more leather and chains but it seemed like duff and i were the only ones participating in the trend. even axl chose to wear jeans. i didnt really mind though, i was used to being stared at and thats exactly what happened as i made my way to the bathroom. every wall was lined with people lingering around each other and most of them were gawking at me, a few of them reaching out and grazing their fingers against the chains hanging off my leather jacket.

when i reached the bathroom i sighed in relief, closing the door and looking at my tired eyes in the mirror. the black around them was smudged and smeared down my face from the long night of partying but it kind of went with the 'dont fuck with me' look. not that the teased up Mohawk didnt do that or anything but still. i laughed at the thought of myself standing next to steven, the complete opposite of myself in every way. he was such a ray of sunshine and happiness; i was practically dating a golden retriever. i knew he loved me though, i fascinated him, or at least thats what he told me.

i tip toed up a bit to see my legs in the mirror above the sink, looking at the two week old tattoo sitting just below the hem of my dress. the velvet felt nice on the healing skin but i needed to wash it again. thats the one thing i hated about new tattoos but the outcome was always worth it. i dropped back to flat feet before propping my leg up on the sink and washing my leg off, some of the dead skin falling away in bits of black and pink. i heard a knock at the door just as i was drying my thigh off, queuing me to leave. when i walked back into the living room of the house steven was still sat on the couch talking awkwardly with a way-to-interested female. she was cute if i was being honest, herpale blue blouse made her look nice in contrast to the other more bold women at the party.

"hey baby."

he said relieved, noticing me and holding his hand out for me to take.

"sorry, my leg was starting to itch."

he nodded.

"sarah this is my girlfriend y/n."

he said, smiling widely at me and helping me into his lap to sit, now that the couch was full. she laughed a little bit as he slid my dress up a bit to inspect my tattoo, he absolutely loved it. hes the one who helped me pick the placement and all that too, saying my thighs were his favorite part of my body so why not add more art to the art that was already there. it did take up the majority of the space after all.

"youre joking, right?"

she asked as i draped my arm around his shoulders.

"hes absolutely not."

i said looking down at him endearingly. he smiled back up at me with the widest smile, rubbing his thumb lightly into the inside of my thigh, being careful not to push into the tattoo.

"how the hell do you date someone like that?!"

she asked, eyes wide. slash , sitting behind the woman and talking to someone else, leaned over and tipped his glass towards me. he knew exactly what i was thinking.

"we ask ourselves the same question at least three times a day darling."

he said amused. she looked over at him as i laughed, stevie looking a little confused by what he meant. slash turned back around, her gaze falling to the floor a little expressionless and shocked to say the least.

"what do you like about her? youre so normal in comparison."

she pointed out, a bit shell shocked. when i looked from her back to him he was already staring at me, a small smile on his lips.

"whats not to like?"

he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist, petting his thumb into the velvet of my short dress.

"just look at her, its like dating a walking art museum. plus shes the most interesting and unique person ive ever met."

he said generally, still keeping eye contact with me. i couldnt help the blush creeping its way to my face.

"i love everything about you, from the way you make your coffee in the morning to the way you stay up with me at night to make fun of those stupid late show hosts. and not to mention how you make me feel, like i belong in every every part of your life. hell you even let me pick where your new tattoo went, how many people would do that? and now as an added bonus i get to look at my favorite thing on your body all decorated."

i leaned down and kissed him gently. when i pulled away he looked over at her, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

"not to mention she is much more interesting to look at without her clothes."

i laughed nervously and hit him square in the chest with my hand.

"steven!"

i scolded and he just squeezed me tighter to him.

"look babe, i love the outfits but you cant tell me you dont look stunning naked, decorated in ink and design."

he awed and i kissed him again.

"i love you stevie."

i said admiringly, feeling the couch shift.

"if youll excuse me i need to go re-assess my approach to getting guys to like me."

i laughed a little bit, catching her hand before she was gone.

"hey, dont change for any guy. if they truly love you then you wont need to. i know i didnt. mohwak and all."

she finally smiled back at me and nodded knowingly.

"thanks."

i let go of her and she walked off into the kitchen. i turned back to steve, holding his head in my hand and running my thumb over his cheek bone. he seemed absolutely in love with me and i couldnt help but melt. he was the best thing that had ever happened to me, crazy life style included.

"is it lame to ask for another kiss?"

he said softly, looking between my eyes. i shook my head no.

"of course not."

i said, leaning down and kissing him gently. he hummed into it and i sighed at the sensation. when i pulled away i rested my forehead on his, eyes closed.

"i love you baby."

i said softly. he kissed me again, smiling into it.

"i love you too."

#wattpad #x reader #steven adler #gnr #one shots #imagines #this is so fluffy holy shit #i melt #246

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archiefm · 5 years ago

Text

... claws my way up from hell once more and vomits onto the dash.... hello. its nora. i used to write rory bergstrom, but if u were here before that u might remember me as greta or alma putnam or..... som1 else.... an endless carousel of trash children..... this is finn, who i actually wrote for an early version of this rp abt 5yrs back now...... grits teeth..... so forgive me if im rusty i havent written him in a long time but seein honey boy gave me a lotta finn muse n im keen to get Back On The Horse yeehaww...

DYLAN O’BRIEN / CIS-MALE — don’t look now, but is that finn o’callaghan i see? the 25 year old criminology and forensic studies student is in their graduate year of study year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be judicious, adroit, morose and cynical, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he will make a name for themselves living off-campus. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her )

shakes my tin can a humble pinterest, ma’am....

finn has a bio pasted at the bottom (n written in like.... 2015.... gross) but it’s long so if u don’t wanna read it here’s the sparknotes summary..... anyway this was written years ago n a lot of it seems really cliche and lame now but..... we accept the trash we think we deserve

grumpy, ugly sweater wearing, tech-savvy grandpa

very dry sense of humour and embraces nihilism.

if ron swanson and april ludgate had a baby it would be finn

he was raised in derry, just south of dublin.

from a big family. elder sister called sinead. he also has a younger sister (aoife), a younger brother (colm), and a collie named lassie because his father lovs cliches (finn hates cliches but loves his dog).

his father was a pub landlord and his mother worked at the market sellin fruit n veg when they met but got a job as a medical receptionist when she had kids cos it meant she cld be there with them in the day and work nights.

his parents met when they were p young and fiesty and rushed into marriage cos they were catholic n just wanted to have sex. his family were literally dirt-poor, but they had a lot of love i guess

hmmmmm his relationship w his father wasn’t the best cos i can’t write character who have healthy relationships w their parents throws up a peace sign. yh, had a pretty emotionally distant, alcoholic violent father n so gets a lot of his bad habits i.e. drinking as a coping mechanism and poor anger management from him BUT anyway

as a kid he was never very motivated in class, he always had a nervous itch to be off somewhere doing something else. struggled under government austerity bcso there just wasn’t the resources to support low income families where the kids had learning difficulties n needed support. fuck the tories am i right

his mum suggested he try sports to help w his restless energy but he was never any good at football so he took up boxing and tap dance instead. he took to tap dancing like a fish to fuckin water. as adhd n found this as a really good way to use his excess energy in a creative way

had a few run ins with the police in his early teens for spray painting and graffiti, but he straightened himself out n now actually considering becoming a detective inspector??? cops are pigs.

he had a youtube channel where he posted videos of him tapdancing and breakdancing as a kid, basically would be a tiktok boy nowadays, n had like... a small fanbase in his early teens. attended several open auditions unsuccessfully, until he was finally cast in billy eliot when he was fifteen.

during billy eliot he began dating an italian dancer called nina. they became dance partners soon after and toured across the republic with various different shows (inc riverdance lol the classic irish stereotype). their relationship was p toxic tbh, they were both very hot tempered people and just used to argue and fight all the time.

he went semi-pro at tap dancing, and nina couldn’t stand being second best so she moved back to italy with her family. ignored his texts, phone calls, etc, eventually he was driven to the point where he used his savings to buy a plane ticket, showed up at her house and she was like wtf?? freaked out and filed a restraining order accusing him of stalking.

he was fined for harassment and then returned home to derry, but after the incident with nina he quit dancing for good and finished his leaving cert before heading to university in the US to get as far away from nina and his past life as poss. and basically since he quit dancing to study forensics (death kink. finn cant get enough of that morgue. just walks around sayin beat u) he’s become a massive grump and jsut doesn’t see the good in people any more.

u’ll find finn in an old man bar drinking whiskey bc he is in fact an old man at heart or sat on his roof smoking a joint, drawing wolves and lions and skeletons and shit, playing call of duty or getting blazed or at the corner of the room in a house party ignoring everyone and scrolling through twitter. is a massive e-boy. always up-to-date on memes and internet slang. has reddit as an app on his phone

not very good at communication. rather than solve his issues by talking, he’d prefer to just solve them through fighting or running away from his problems hence why he has come halfway across the world to get away from an issue which probs cld have been solved w a few apology emails.

takes a lot to phase him, but when his beserk button gets pressed he can become a bit pugnacious like an angry lil rottweiler. in his undergrad he was in a few fist fights but doesn’t really do tht any more as he doesn’t condone violence.

in the previous version of this rp he was hospitalised like 5 times. pls, give my son a break. stop tryin to kill him. he literaly got a bottle smashed over his head and bled out all over his favourite angora rug that was the only light of his life

works at the campus coffee shop n always whines about how he’s a slave to capitalism. always smells of coffee

lives off campus with an elderly woman named Marianne, and basically gets reduced rent bcos he makes her dinner / keeps her company. they have a great bond

fan of karl marx. v big on socialism

insomniac with chronic nosebleeds

cynical about everything. too much of a fight club character 4 his own good n has his head up tyler durden’s sphincter

always confused or annoyed

statistics

basic information

full name: finnegan seamus o'callaghan nickname(s): finn age: 25 astrological sign: aries hometown: derry, ireland occupation: phd student / former street entertainer fatal flaw: cynicism positives: self-reliant, street smart, relaxed, intelligent, spontaneous, brave, independent, reliable, trustworthy, loyal. negatives: hostile, impulsive, stubborn, brooding, pugnacious, untrusting, cynical, enigmatic, reserved.

physical

colouring: medium hair colour: dark brown, almost black eye colour: brown height: 5’9” weight: 69kg build: tall, athletic voice: subtle irish accent, low, smooth. dominant hand: left scar(s): one on the left side of his ribs from a knife wound that he doesn’t remember getting cos he was drunk distinguishing marks: freckles, tattoo of a wolf howling at a moon allergies: pollen and the full spectrum of human emotion alcohol tolerance: high drunken behaviour: he becomes friendlier, far more conversational than when sober, flirtier, and generally more self-confident.

psychological

dreams/goals: self-fulfilment, travel the globe, experience life in its most alive and technicoloured version, make documentary films, help the vulnerable in society, grow as a human being.

skills: jack-of-all-trades, very fast runner, good at thieving things, talented tap dancer, good in crisis situations, dab-hand at mechanics, musically-intelligent, can throw a mean right hook and very capable of defending himself, can roll a cigarette, memorises quotes and passages of literature with ease, can light a match with his teeth.

likes: the smell of the earth after rain, poetry, cigarettes, shakespeare, whiskey, tattoos, travelling, ac/dc, deep conversations, leather jackets, open spaces, the smell of petrol, early noughties ‘emo phase’ anthems.

dislikes: the government, parties, rules, donald trump, children, apple products, weddings, people in general, small talk, dependency, loneliness, pop music, public transport, justin timberlake, uncertainty.fears: fear itself, drowning alignment: true neutral mbti: istp – “while their mechanical tendencies can make them appear simple at a glance, istps are actually quite enigmatic. friendly but very private, calm but suddenly spontaneous, extremely curious but unable to stay focused on formal studies, istp personalities can be a challenge to predict, even by their friends and loved ones. istps can seem very loyal and steady for a while, but they tend to build up a store of impulsive energy that explodes without warning, taking their interests in bold new directions.” (via 16personalities.com)

full bio (lame as fuck written years ago..... pleathe...)

tw homophobia

born in quigley’s pub on the backstreets of sunny dublin, young finnegan o'callaghan was thrown kicking and screaming into the rowdy suburbs of irish drinking culture. the son of a landlord and a fishwife, he never had much in the way of earnings, but there was never a dull moment in his lively estate, where asbo’s thrived, but community spirit conquered. at school, finn was pegged as lazy and unmotivated, though truly his dyslexia made it hard for the boy to learn in the same environment of his peers and only made him more closed-off in class. struggling with anger management, finn moved from school to school, unable to fit the cookie-cutter mould that school enforced on him, though whilst academic studies were of little interest to the boy, he soon found his true passions lay in recreational activities. immersed into the joys of sport from as young as four, finn was an ardent munster fan and anticipated nothing more than the day he could finally fit into his brother’s old pair of rugby boots.

his calling finally came unexpectedly, not in the form of rugger, but through dance. to learn to express himself in a non-academic way, he began tap dancing, finding therapy in the beat of his soles against the cracked kitchen tiles (much to his mother’s disgrace). it wasn’t a conscious choice, finn just realised one day that dance was something that made him feel. a king of the streets, finn made his fortune on those cobbled pavements – dancing and drawing to earn his keep. by default, finn became a street artist, each penny he earned from his chalk drawings saved in a jam jar towards buying his first pair of tap shoes. though many of his less-than-amiable neighbours called him a nancy and a gaybo, finn refused to quit at his somewhat ‘unconventional’ hobby, for the young scrapper found energy, life, and released anger through the rhythm of tap. soon he branched out into street dance, hip hop, break dancing, lyrical, his days spent smacking his scuffed feet against the broken patio into the night.

when he was thirteen he took up boxing, and as expected, his newfound ‘macho’ pastime conflicted with his dancing. the boxers called him ‘soft’; the dancers called him ‘inelegant’. he felt like two different people; having to choose between interests was like being handed a knife and asked to which half of himself he wished to cut away. he couldn’t afford professional training in dance, with most schools based in england and limited scholarships available. instead, he made the street his studio, racking up a small fanbase on youtube. when he was fifteen he made his debut in billy eliot at the olympia theatre in dublin. enter nina de souza, talented, beautiful and italian; ballet dancer, operatic singer, genius whiz kid, and spoiled brat. she was selfish, conceited, hell bent on getting her own way, and every director’s nightmare. finn fell for her like a house of cards. he’d always had a soft spot for girls who meant trouble. and so their hellish courtship began.

by the time they were seventeen, the two young swans had danced in every playhouse across the republic. they were known in theatres across the country for their tempestuous personalities, their raging arguments with one another, their tendency to drop out of shows altogether without any notice, yet the money kept rolling in and the audiences continued to grow. for three years, their families continued to put up with their hysterical fights followed by passionate reconciliations. he was too possessive, and she was too wild. their carcrash of a relationship finally came to a catastrophic halt when nina broke off the whole affair and returned to italy with her family. for months finn tried to contact her, yet his phone calls, texts, facebook messages were always ignored, until finally he was driven to drastic measures and used his savings to get a plane to her home town. when finn turned up uninvited at nina’s house she freaked out – and rightly so – she contacted her agent, accused him of stalking her, and had a restraining order placed against him. finn was arrested, held in a station overnight, and charged with harassment before he was allowed to return to dublin.

after the incident with nina, finn lost the fight in his eyes. he became far more hostile, far less likely to retaliate with his own fists, and picked fights not for the thrill of feeling his own fists pummel another into a wall, but for the sensation of his own brittle bones cracking. he dropped his tap shoes in a dumpster, stopped talking to his friends, followed his father’s advice and went back to school to complete his leaving certificate. a few short months later, and finn was packing his bags, saying his bittersweet goodbyes, and travelling half-way across the globe to be as far away as possible from his past self, his mess of a life, and most of all nina. it seemed somehow ironic that the boy who had been cautioned by the garda so much during his youth for spray painting, busking without a liscence, and raucous parties would become the grumpy, aloof overseas student studying a degree in criminology; that his once reckless spirit could be crushed so easily.

of all things that finn could be called, straightforward would never be one of them. ever since his first days in atticus, the boy was pegged as hostile, hot-headed, cynical, rude. he seemed to spend more time in his thoughts than engaging in conversation. like a ticking time-bomb, finn’s anger was of the calm kind, liable to explode without a moment’s noticed. his unpredictable personality make him something of an enigma to those who aren’t amiable with the lad, though hostile as he may appear, he harvests a good heart. loyalty lies at the centre of his affections, and whilst his friends are few in number, he makes a lifelong partner. somewhere within finn, there’s still some fight left, but mostly he has recognised that his hedonistic lifestyle did little to leave him fulfilled – mostly, it just emptied him out – and over his three years at university has resigned himself to a nihilistic predicament.

if u wanna plot with me pls pls pls im me or like this post!! i am always game for plots i love em so excited to write with you all here r some ideas

study buddies. finn is now a phd student so has to start takin shit seriously. he gon be in the library every day doing that independent study. if he had ppl who were also regular library goers n they get each other coffees to save time.... tht wld be sweet

ppl who love techno dj sets and going super hard on the weekends!!! fuck yea

friends with benefits. exes on bad terms. ppl he tried to date but couldnt because he’s always emotionally hung up on someone else. spicy hook up plots

ppl he met touring?? maybe ppl who were also in the entertainment industry..... anyone got a character who is ex circus hit me up

does anyone else study criminology / forensics / criminal psych / law? phd students sometimes lecture so he cld be an assistant lecturer / tutor if ur character is in a younger year

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

finn goes to the skatepark and all the young boys there think he’s a gradnpa which he is!

#huntingtonintro #is tht the tag....... idk..... msg me xo

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polyamorous-mysme · 6 years ago

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if you havent seen it yet i have a post with all of my favorites + a few others right here with how they got together! BUT i havent looked at it in so long so if there were any you had in mind or if you’re itching for any additions, feel free to send in some more!

as for now . . . hmmmm . . .

707 x Yoosung (w 707′s good end)

gamer bfs to the max.

really love the idea of yoosung being the one who cares most about making sure seven is eating and sleeping while in the hospital visiting saeran, sneaking both of them meals he got recipes from his mom for cause he volunteered there and some of the staff still remembers him and his cousin

and like when seven has to leave to take care of things yoosung offers to stay w saeran and like it’s yoosung who really coaxes him out of his shell even just a bit

realizes he likes sweets and games so he brings cookies and a deck of cards and 707 leaves to go do some work and they just go ape shitt

and like eventually its to the point where saeran is actually getting better and yoosung can finally work on convincing seven to let him have his space and make sure seven’s taking care of himself too and so since they cant be at the hospital at night or on certain days of the week/month anyway yoosung starts inviting himself over with his computer and asking 707 to show him where he got his rarer LOLOL loot and seven teaches him some basic coding to help him build a website for some weird school project yoosung’s been neglecting for months that’s due like, in two weeks

and seven starts going to the hospital later so he can swing by and pick up yoosung on the way so they can go grab some food from saeran’s favorite places or for food he’s never had before bc he’s hell-bent on making sure his brother eats some fuckin poke

and even after saeran’s better and part of the RFA yoosung finds himself coming over to bring lunch and play games with seven and seven drags himself over to yoosung’s for homework at least twice a week (and threatens yoosung to lock him out of his house if he’s prioritizing gaming at seven’s over his work)

and like. seven and yoosung both having crises when w saeran about wow . . . i love hanging out with him so much i dont understand why it hurts so much:( we are just bros being bros and saeran’s like are u fucking fr rn please,

seven: completely fucking oblivious about the entire thing

yoosung: completely useless about the whole thing

until saeran literally stops yoosung while they’re chilling making snacks one day and he’s like “hey dude tell that man how you feel because you guys are driving me nucking futs. also i dont care.”

and yoosung like. finally tells him during one of their #seshes he just stops and goes “seven . . . i think im in love with you” and seven goes. “what, like as a friend?” and you can hear saeran eavesdropping in the kitchen just groan and go “DUDE HE WANTS TO DATE YOU”

#thats it that's all i got #saeran is the bi brother who is somehow less clueless than his gay friends #thats the point of this post #707 x yoosung #yoosung #707 #mystic messenger 707 #mystic messenger yoosung #707/yoosung

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bmpmp3 · 6 years ago

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rainyluneblogs replied to your photoset “I’m lowkey weirdly drawn to Star-Crossed Myth despite only playing...”

@shadowfairyy this loooks sick as hell?????? how did you do that effect please teach me your ways

adjsjsj thank u for asking i spent way longer than needed on those effects and I am ITCHING to TELL MY TALE OF TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS

okay to preface this: there is Absolutely a better, more efficient way to do this, maybe with something like after effects? i don’t have that ‘cause its a trillion dollars but there’s probably alternatives but also I was Too Lazy to learn something new but not too lazy to spend 2 hours tryna fudge it with my trusty drawing program clip studio paint and also a copy of photoshop

so like..,, i drew the drawing right? the bishounen freaking out in the foreground, the space-y background in the..background (i used some default pastel type brushes just really big and some constellation brush i got off clip studio assets and just went ham qwq i have no restraint with fun brushes im like an 8 year old with kid pix) i used one of my many, many glittery effect brushes to make slap some on a layer between the background and foreground and also on a layer on top of it all, this brush was like, glowing shards? random glowing shapes, i thought it looked neat, i got it off clip studio assets but if you use another program you can probably find similar brushes or resources for other programs~ or if you really wanted you could draw it all in yerself lol I gave a little buffer space all around the drawing, so like theres this blank space surrounding it where the shards keep going, this was so when they move they dont get cut off lol

what i did was i opened it in photoshop to make an animation (still havent learned the clip studio animation features lol, i think fire alpaca has some pretty good animation stuff tho so thats an alternative!) and like so each frame i just shifted the glowing shard layers up or down (i made the two layers go in different directions ‘cause i thought it looked cool) by one single arrow key press each frame i did it manually sobs 15 frames each colour so it wasnt too bad here’s what the timeline looks like!

so yeah theres definitely better ways to do that but this...is what i did

for the transition frams between colours i just used a motion blur effect, i think both clip studio and photoshop have it, sai probably has it too? i remember gimp having it, not sure about fire alpaca its been a minute since i used that one but yeah just a motion blur lol

he must go.... his planet needs him

the framerate was consistent throughout, i think it might be like 12fps? 30fps? i chose no delay for the timing on photoshop I don’t know what that is in real person words and then i just cropped out that buffer space i added earlier~ and BAM it was done

the actual full sized gif file was wayyy bigger than the one i uploaded to tumblr so i made it like a quarter of the size but if you wanna watch yer internet Beg For Mercy as it attempts to load a 25mb gif here’s the link to it on my dA~

OH i almost forgot, in the background glowing shard layer, I went at some of the shards with an airbrush shaped eraser tool with the opacity real low so I could make some of the shards look like theyre fading into the distance atmospheric perspective babey

if you wanna try something similar I’d recommend not being like me and instead learning some kinda aftereffects type program or something BUT if yer determined all you need is yer draiwng program of choice and access to a copy of photoshop OR oorRR this might be even more tedious but you could use just firealpaca and alpacadouga ‘cause its free and really good in my opinion (i used to use it before i got csp), or if you wanna use a different drawing program that doesnt have an export each layer as a separate image button theres this little free tool i like called grimace for exporting a bunch of images from one psd that i adore, its supposed to be for visual novel assets but I use it for all kinds of things now lol

i guess the moral here is you can do all kinds of professional looking stuff with just what you got on hand or maybe some little freeware things (and a few hours) if yer determined enough qwq the other moral is that im crazy

#rainyluneblogs #reply #also thank u im very proud of that drawing qwq #i dont draw cool stuff enough but its so much fun ahghHH

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purplesurveys · 6 years ago

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394

Do you use public transport regularly? I would if it were safer, more efficient, and less crowded. But it’s none of these things, so I resort to driving my own car. Who do you usually say hello or good morning first? My girlfriend. Do you usually have time for breakfast in the morning? What do you have? Not this sem, because my classes start at 8:30/9 so I usually go straight to the bathroom for a quick shower and off to the car. I never have time to pick up breakfast, unless my dad is home and packs me food. He usually makes me eggs and hotdogs. Have you ever had to work while there was a film crew at your work place? I’ve never had a job but yeah, they recently shot a movie in my school. Caused a lot of traffic that day but tbh I can’t be mad, the movie’s supposed to be really good (although I haven’t seen it so shame on me). Have you ever gotten an ailment just before you were going on holiday? Ugh I never get sick, my immune system doesn’t have a lot of stories to tell.

What’s your favourite colour of carnation? Light pink. When’s the last time you got to leave work earlier than scheduled? Not work, buuuut my communication research prof always dismisses us early for some reason. Last week he let us go 45 minutes before our scheduled dismissal. Do you play any “getting to know you” type of games with a friend on FB? No, that sounds very 2009. Are the roads basically rock solid frozen slush where you live right now? No snow where I’m from. Do you/have you worked a job where you could bring leftover food home from? Is there a winter break/half term coming along in your part of the world? No, we don’t get seasonal breaks like that except for summer and that doesn’t come around until May. Who or what greets you at the door every time you come home? My dog used to, but he’s gotten old and doesn’t really have the energy to go down the steps anymore haha. Still, he’s the first thing I see up the stairs when I get home. Have you had any assignments to finish lately? Yep, I did one before I drove home tonight. How about any long-running group assignments? I finished one last night but my groupmates were shit and I didn’t feel good about that homework at all. Do you have group chats with your friends that make you laugh? Yes, we have one for our friend group. Do you sing or whistle while you work? Sometimes, but it doesn’t last long because 1) I sing terribly, and 2) whistling is loud. Would you ever like a professional kitchen’s dishwasher at home? I’m fine with manually washing dishes tbh. Any exciting or fun plans for the weekend? Not this weekend. I do have to go to a volleyball game that’s required for my PR class, though. Not that I find it exciting. How about for this evening? I just got back home from a laidback date with Gab, so. We had cheap dinner and a study date at a coffee shop. Do you ever chat about your favourite video games with your friends? Hahaha, I don’t play video games. This is Gab’s question to answer. Have you ever supported anyone’s Kickstarter? If so, what was it? I don’t think so, no. What do you like in your omelet? We don’t usually make omelets at home, so when we’re staying at a place that makes omelets (usually a breakfast buffet at a hotel), I ask them to put everything that they have available–cheese, mushrooms, tomatoes, bell peppers, whatever else they offer. Do you do anything physically taxing that makes your limbs or back sore? Yeah, I have a shoulder bag that worsens my scoliosis when I have to wear it, cos it only puts a lot of pressure and weight on one side of my body. Does a cat ever randomly jump on your desk and blocks your screen? Does said cat like to climb on your shoulder and kneads your arm? Was today surprisingly sunny where you live, too? It was just sunny, it’s never a surprise. Did you encounter many happy people today? Did it make you happy? Surprisingly no. My org’s hangout space is empty on Tuesdays. I guess people’s schedules are packed on that day. The only people I saw were Laurice, Jane, Jo, Jum, and Kate, and they all were okay, but I wouldn’t call them happy. Has anyone put their freezing cold hands on your body today? Uhhhh nope haha. Has anyone tickled you mercilessly today? No, I would’ve kicked them in the face. Has anyone hugged or kissed you today? Yes, Gabie gave me both :) Aaahahhhhhhh I love her so so so much. When do you normally come on Bzoink? Mmm once a week, cos that’s the only amount of time I get to take surveys these days. Have you had to change clothes more than twice today? Nope, just one constant outfit for today. What’s something that makes you feel confident? Gab giving me boosts. I trust anything she says, so if she says I can do this or I can finish that, I usually will. Do you have any presentations you have to give in the near future? Nah, I don’t think so. Have you ever had a shrove bun? (Look it up, they’re really good!) NO BUT THEY LOOK REALLY GOOD I WANT ONE NOW??????? Do you have time for regular coffee/tea breaks throughout the day? I can’t take coffee anymore dude haaah. I recently ~resigned from coffee, cos I realized that whenever I drink coffee now, I feel more sick than energized to finish work, and I always end up having chest pains now unlike before. I denied it for a long time and kept drinking coffee (and getting sick after) until I finally sucked it up last week. Haven’t had any since. Do your lips or hands go really dry in cold weather? Not really. Do you have any wine or rum in your fridge? Yes. Do you ever look in the mirror and wonder when you got that old? Hahahaha yeah I look in the mirror but I don’t necessarily ask myself that. Are you currently studying a language? If so, which one? No. I get spurts of enthusiasm here and there, but they always die down quickly. Just three weeks ago I went back to studying Korean but I stopped after two days lol. Are you good at word games and anagrams? Yesssssss I love those. UBWHAECNI ^Give me the longest word you can make out of those letters Beach, china, whine, bench, bunch, cabin. Do you encounter eccentric looking people on a daily basis? In UP? Of course. I love it. Has a song been playing in your head today? What was it? imagine by Ariana Grande. Is there anything at the movie theaters right now that you’d like to see? Alone/Together, but I heard that the trailer is way better than the film itself. I’d see the movie but only if it were someone’s treat haha. Do you have free tickets for anything that need to be used soon? Nah. Do you have candy in your cupboards? We don’t keep candy in the cupboards, but yeah we have some lying around the house. Are you itching to do something else now? Eat, because I suddenly got hungry. Can you hear snoring from somewhere right now? Nope. Has the sun gone down by now? Yes, hours ago. It’s 11:36 in the evening.

#survey #surveys

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knowingoverseer · 8 years ago

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> Final Countdown

⇒ STRIFE

“SCARED?!” Engl1sh clenches her fist, the ground below crumbling. “Y0U TH1NK TH1S WHAT SCARED L00KS L1KE? 1’LL SH0W Y0U WHAT SCARED REALLY 1S.”

“hear that calvara? were gonna get to see jUst how scared she can get! ha!” Calvara quips while fleeing the stage floor, into the air. Really, rude, interrupting while a Lady is talking. So rude.

Very, very rude. Engl1sh is steaming.

“A P00R CH01CE 1N F1NAL W0RDS, BUT 1’VE HEARD W0RSE.” Her rainbow aura flares to life, as she inhales deeply, preparing to simply obliterate this whole reality. Both Space-Time clones stood - well, floated - their ground, ready to face whatever came next. “final words? lady blowhard, we cant close the show like that! yoU havent even opened yoUr bonUs prize! which, by the way, yoU hardly earned!” Calvara called out, still managing to pout despite their serious gaze.

For the first time, Engl1sh notices the, now large, white box in her possession. It doesn’t concern her much, as she readies to exhale. She made sure to hold it in extra long so it would be an even more powerful Technicolor Fire Breath attack.

“well, i mean its yoUre loss,” The box ribbons untie themselves as the lid tumbles up and over. A red blur streaking it’s way right toward Lady Engl1sh’s face- more specifically her lower jaw. “were a great prize, and a far better show stopper than yoU!” The near final Calvara, using the hilt of the weapon they’d long since made for this fight, smashed Engl1sh’s jaws together and forcing her head up.

The blast explodes in her throat, destroying her head and killing her forever… Or, not really. Lady Engl1sh, not privy on killing herself with her own attack, erases the moment when the blast is fired, nullifying it. That was close.Then she grabs Calvara, growling before attempting to crush them in her hand. All the while, they’re laughing. Suddenly that weird scene they’d witnessed countless times before suddenly made sense, and there was just so much humor in potentially having beat the beast that easily. Or the fact their own life might have also been saved. They really don’t know what would have happened down that road. What they do know is what’s happening now. Calvara after Calvara starts bolting onto the stage from the stands, all brandishing the same weapon, though some had the Cosmic Deringer or another blade at their disposal as well. It was a sword with a red hue and a weirdly curved blade, with a tip reminiscent of a snake tongue. A little more than two dozen Calvara surge forward, taking her on at once. A laughable effort, probably. Until she might feel the sting of their blades. Oddly, many more seemed to still be in the stand.

Engl1sh slaps a few of them out of the air, still clutching one in her hand. It’s some real King Kong shit. She’s starting to laugh a bit herself, grinning down at the Calvara in her hands, not quite killing them just yet. She holds them up close to her face.

“d0 y0u see 1t? h0w fut1le 1t 1s t0 f1ght me?”

With a flap of her now massive wings, she creates a huge amount of wind, making it difficult to reach her by flying. Not to mention all the debris suddenly unaffected by gravity.

“th1s un1verse 1s dy1ng. and 1’ll make sure y0u’re 1n 1t when that happens~” She laughs right in Calvara’s relatively tiny face. “d0 y0u n0w understand y0ur 1ns1gn1f1cance? y0u can create a gamesh0w, wh1le 1 can pull un1verses apart at the seams! t0 c0mpare me t0 y0u 1s l1ke c0mpar1ng the sun to a hand crank. the p0wer fantasy 1s 0ver, y0u d1e n0w.” All the while, Calvara, let’s call them Calvara Beta, has been laughing right along with her. True, it was kind of hard when she’s crushing them in her hand, but their armor did provide at least some protection and man. This whole situation was kind of hilarious. Or they damn sure were going to make it seem that way. The laughter died down to a consistent giggle while Engl1sh was monologuing to their face, but that didn’t shut them up for long. “the- the sUn to a hand crank? eh? is that why yoU keep cranking oUt all these stUpid ‘all powerfUl’ lines? yo-yoUre doing that thing, the villain thing, yoU know where yoU jUst keep talking and talking and- hey are we still on camera caUse this is honestly comedy gold right now~” Of course the wind doesn’t defurl the swarm of Calvara, they just need to move around in a much more complicated fashion. Green flashes of light surround Engl1sh as she continues on, though the effort still seems in vain. Calvara and Calvara soon take to the fight as well, however their mission is to attempt to free Calvara Beta. Something Calvara jumps head first into, going for Engl1sh’s wrist with the saber.

The sudden, if minute, pain on the arm holding Calvara Beta gets Engl1sh’s attention, and she rotates the arm around to look for its source. Ah, of course. She swats the annoyance on her arm, then sighs in relief that she’s finally rid of that particular iteration of them. A puff of green and red glitter remains in the space-time clone’s wake.

“n0w, where was 1? 0h r1ght, mak1ng y0u suffer~”

She squeezes tight, still holding off on killing them just yet. The other Calvaras are mostly ignored, as one ignores an irritating buzzing noise, but she does try to keep them away from her necklace. Which is, unfortunately for Engl1sh, a very common place for them to attempt swiping at. Other places that were common were the base of her wings and anywhere around the back of her head. They weren’t aiming to be in line of attacks, and going ignored was just fine for them. Little bits of damage at a time was the payoff to that. All the while Calvara Beta proved to be a good enough distraction, even if it was getting to the point it was too hard to breathe to laugh. Calvara, not unhurt by the loss of their partner, however keeps up an attack on the front. Casting bolts of magic from a distance, they try to get close, wanting to try and use the crowbar to pry Lady Engl1sh’s hand open.

Engl1sh sighs. The other one...

“1 never d0 t1re 0f k1ll1ng y0u, s0 please, by all means.”

Calvara proves to be a more slippery target, and weaves right past Engl1sh’s free hand. In frustration, the gigantic cherub attempts to grab them as well. It’s not hard to keep dodging, between their spritely evasiveness and space powers dodging was simple. Unfortunately the wand’s magic hardly seem to do more than cause her minor irritation. It was time to start switching tactics. Rather than fully attempt to pry against her hand, they would rap the crowbar against closed knuckles and zap around the small space in front of Engl1sh. Like trying to bat at a fly flying right in front of your face. Calvara tries, of course, to be strategic about their placement but ultimately are just doing their best to dodge.

The crowbar sends a shockwave through her skin every time it hits. It seemed to call out to her, longing to nestle itself in that magic necklace of hers. Whatever powerful brand of anti-magic went into creating that damned juju craved the cessation of other magical objects, and Engl1sh could feel it. She felt it from all the swords the many pests attacked her with, and recognized the feeling from way back then, with Dirk… When he cut out her eye with the very same blade. It filled her with more rage than any transgression before now.

The symbol of Time-Space flashes in her eyes as she suddenly snatches Calvara out of the air with expert precision. Wasting no time, she crushes the sprite in her hands, but not before they stab their weapon into her hand. She feels it again… Her grip loosens somewhat on Calvara Beta as a sudden jolt of fear runs up her spine. It doesn’t last long. Calvara Beta of course uses this opportunity to try and struggle free from Engl1sh’s grasp, or at the very least dig their blad into her hand enough to get it loser. Suddenly the phrase ‘give ‘em an inch’ comes to mind and with what wiggle room they had force themself to shrink as fast as they could and teleport to a safer distance. Unfortunately the sight of Calvara popping like a glitter filled balloon was not one that was lost on them. Jesus fuck that imagery was going to last a while… Calvara had to hand it to their space-time clones, neither one of them screamed. Now it was all on the real deal, and Calvara Beta had some fighting to lead. It only takes them moments to reorient themself, and grow back to normal size, before they’re coming back at Engl1sh sword swung. Over in the stands, Calvara Prime is itching to get in on the action, especially after seeing the show hosts just…. But no, they knew what they had to wait for. It was just. Horrible standing there doing nothing. Nothing yet anyway. The final Calvara, we’ll call them Calvara Alpha, finally returns to the stands though they don’t yet appear to want to do anything. Or feel they should, yet.

Engl1sh notes the sudden lack of Calvara Beta in her hand and looks around to find them. The natural laws, meanwhile, begin to go crazy as time unwinds itself. The carefully woven fabric of reality, being pulled apart by the might of Engl1sh’s Time-Space powers. Time ceases normal function, causing a massive desynchronization with other the time of other universes. Gravity is working in reverse, the planet beneath splitting apart.

Engl1sh doesn’t have to wait much longer before the whole thing collapses.

Meanwhile, I approach Calvara Alpha. The time has come, exactly as I have seen it, and as they have seen it so many times now. As the most of excellent of hosts, it would be remiss of me to not carry out the request they had given me.

“It is time to go, Calvara.” Through the collapse of Space-Time many of the Calvara were making their trips back through time to the beginning of Calvara’s existence. This was Calvara Prime’s cue to rush the Space Clones at Engl1sh before jumping back themselves. The space clones weren't as powerful, nor did they have the proper weapon, but they were expendable, practically living glitter bombs, and made for a great distraction. A distraction from Calvara Beta who was throwing their all into getting at that necklace at present. A distraction from Calvara Alpha who is heeding my word. It’s time to go. It’s time to give this fight the last of what they have, all at once. There’s no doubling back after this, if they hadn't already seen their fate they’d lack the energy to complete another time loop, there isn’t anymore holding back. Engl1sh notes just how many of them of them there were, with contempt. They’re easy, poofing when smacked out of the sky. The ones that stayed intact are real ones, rather than clones. With a roar, she reinstates gravity, and far more intense, trying to pull them all to the ground, for easy stepping. Meanwhile, I try to find Beta in the rain of Calvaras. In the stands, Calvara Prime tries their best to combat the gravity increase with their own spacial powers, but it’s only enough to keep a few Calvara in the air. The real Calvaras getting grounded loop back before Engl1sh could do much else, many sporting new cuts and bruises from being swat out of the air. The space clones, however, still created as much movement as they could. It wasn’t the most dignified distraction, but every bit counts. Calvara Beta is one of the few still in the air, though the movement was far more restricted. More of a glide than truely being able to fly around. But added with teleportation they were still giving it one hell of a shot. Still, as seconds pass time and space were getting more and more corrupt. Prime, frustrated, loses strength to hold Gravity off not long after they started to try, grounding them all. Beta, and what was left of the Space clones. They needed to go back and get healed from Floretta, even if it was just energy they needed. They too loop back, starting the chain. At which point only two real Calvara remain.

I fly over to the one I know to be Beta, the intense gravity being nothing for a First Guardian. They seem to want to keep fighting. But it is not the time for that yet. I put a hand on their shoulder.

“This part is not your battle. It is theirs.” I point to Alpha. “Go back, get healed, like all the others. You will need your strength for when you are them. You can not help them except by having the strength to go back and be them.” My grip tightens slightly. “This is the last time, from my perspective, that I will talk to you. Good luck.” “w-what? no? im not sUpposed to go yet- last time?” Beta is struggling to get back on their feet, though it appears my presence helps. They follow his point to the one Calvara left in the stand, energy gathering around them, but it isn’t quite enough to convince them to leave. “It will be easier for you later if you do not stay now. Please just go.”

Engl1sh looked at Alpha, who was headed straight for her while all the others looped back. Her eyes flashed the symbol of Time, and she saw the paths they were taking. Right to the beginning, joining the crowd. Interesting… But Alpha stayed in the present. No more loops. Engl1sh smiled, intrigued. So this one would fight her head on, hmm? Once more her rainbow aura flared, enveloping the whole planet in its glow as the sun in the sky gradually faded.

Alpha was resolute, having already prepared themselves for this moment. They’d watched it happen already. Their own aura sparked to life, gold and strong, with tinges of red or green sometimes crackling on the ends. Their hand wrapped tight around the grip of their sword.

This was it. “im not leaving yet! i know what the plan was sUpposd to be- i have to stay theyre the only one after me and im not leaving me by myself in this fight!”

“Please, I really must insist you go. I physically can not force you, but it really is for the best if you just leave…” Stressed out, Beta shrugged away my words, but remained fixated on the sight before them. Not just Calvara’s final entrance, but Lady Engl1sh setting the world on technicolor fire, it would hurt their eyes if not for the shades. Still it was hard to ignore the golden fusion making a beeline for the cherub. Alpha wasted no time to get to Engl1sh, and this time called out a spell when swinging their blade. She might be immune to magic, but this was mostly for the extra kick. “yoU know i always knew id go oUt with a bang bUt this light show yoUve got going is perfect, let me help add to this- COSMIC RADIANCE!” They didn’t just aim for her necklace, that swipe was aimed toward most of her lower face and upper torso in one arc swing. Without hitting the Juju it does nothing for their goal except to hurt Engl1sh.

Engl1sh flew upwards, surprisingly agile despite her large size. The slash was mostly blocked by arm, which seemingly healed itself in a flesh of red and green. But Alpha would not be deterred. They pulled Time to Kill from Davara’s strife specibus. The symbol on their armor lit up as they activated a freymotif, the clock on Time to Kill spinning as it split into twelve swords, and those swords then increasing in size by way of Space powers. Controlling them with telekinesis, Alpha attacked Engl1sh from multiple angles with the swords.

Engl1sh was quick on her feet, repelling most away with a gravity field and pulling another towards her to use as her own weapon. She swung the oversized sword at Alpha, but they quickly returned Time to Kill to just one blade, captchaloguing it away once more.

Alpha dodged and weaved in and out of Engl1sh’s reach as she tried to grab them, throwing pot shots with telekinetically lifted rocks, looking for an opening to reach the necklace. Unfortunately, there was never a chance to get close enough… But suddenly Alpha had a reckless idea.

They decaptchalogue the sword created using the Chubby Bunny wands, affectionately dubbed “The Killer Bunny”, and fly towards Engl1sh, swinging in a wide arc like before. This time, however, when Engl1sh tries to block, the incredibly volatile and powerful sword cleaves right through her arm. She’s caught off guard, dropping her defense as she hollers in a mixture of pain and anger.

Alpha lets the Killer Bunny drop out of their hand as they flash step forward, accelerating themself with Space powers, gripping the blade of their crowbar sword tight, clearing their mind to focus entirely on one goal.

Engl1sh, in a final act of desperation, unleashes a hasty rainbow fire breath attack downwards, on perfect course to hit Alpha. I tighten my grip on Beta’s shoulder again and teleport the two of us off the planet, just outside the atmosphere.

Though their eyes briefly glance upwards to see the beam of pure death headed towards them, Alpha does not waver, tossing the crowbar sword and guiding it with telekinesis. They’re ready for what comes next. “hey engl1sh, what do yoU get when yoU remove the stolen power soUrce from an arrogant megalomaniac?”

#armageddonacolyte #long post /#I am so sorry for those on mobile))#Also this is mostly in third person (save Scramblesprite's first person naritive) cause over the past week we just hashed the rest of #this out over google docs so ahahaha. so sorry for how long it it.#the second half is on it's way.))

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datingstories-blog · 6 years ago

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Carly’s Creepy Landlord Story

The following story is based on an American girl’s experience moving to Madrid. She is happy to share this post on my blog.

Moving to Madrid was an adventure for Carly right from the start! From sharing a room with a stranger at hotel for a week, from learning that the voltage in Spain is a lot stronger than the States, therefore, she burned her hair with the straighter, to getting yelled at by a little 21-year-old girl at her host family stay. Geez, Carly didn't have a smooth transition.t

Well Carly wishes she can say those were her biggest obstacles that she had to overcome, but it wasn’t. She was determined to find apartment in Chamberi and in August apartments were filling up in Madrid fast. Anyhow, she found this apartment on idealista and the landlord son, who she likes to call Juanito, spoke little English and showed her the apartment. The apartment was nicely decorated, and she would be living with three other girls from 18 to 20 years old. No offense to the young crowd , she wasn’t too fond of the idea, but she loved the neighborhood, and she was itching to get out of my host family’s place because the daughter had yelled at her for hanging her clothes inside the house when really, she thought she was being thoughtful to her roommate because her roommate also needed to do laundry and needed space to hang her clothes on the rack. Anyway, that is another story, but Carly was certainly the better person in that situation. So, living with these girls didn’t seem like a bad idea for Carly and she figured they can be like her little sisters.

So, going back to Juanito, who Carly despised, explained very briefly that the contract was strict. For instance, no drinking and no guest, however; he said if its okay with your roommates it shouldn’t be a problem. She did state she would like to have guest over from time to time and he said yeah, no worries you can have a glass of wine too. So, he was confusing and contradicting. He let Carly move in early, and the rest of the girls were moving in the following day. The contract was in Spanish and she had a couple friends that are Spanish speakers look over it and they said yeah, it’s great the rules are weird but it’s okay.

So, she signed the contract desperately and gave him the deposit and first month of rent. Then the next day Carly’s love interest at the time named Borris offer to help her move in. Borris and Carly’s dating relationship was new, and Carly found him attractive. He was an author and spoke English. He was tall and had dark eyes and shiny hair. He had a beard and a nice smile. Borris was Spanish and drank a lot of coffee so his teeth could use some whiting Carly thought.

Any who Borris helped Carly moved her big suitcases into the apartment. She unpacked her things, and she was so happy to settle in. Borris was starting to get hungry and Carly suggested that they will go grocery shopping, then buy some drinks and get some lunch.

After shopping and lunch, they brought a bottle of tinto de Verano back to the apartment. It was about 3pm in the afternoon. Borris was watching tv and Carly was determined to buy a fan and was making phone calls. Her Spanish was pretty bad and Borris made fun of her while she was making calls. Carly and Borris began to have a little playful wrestling match and one thing led to another. Carly thought okay I’ll make out with this Spanish dude and call it a day. Borris had different intentions. He took off Carly’s shirt and began to kiss her down her neck. Carly was a bit buzzed rom the tinto de Verano and she is known to be a light weight, therefore; she went with the flow. Borris lifted her from the couch and carried her into her bedroom. Carly began to look for condoms while Borris was teasing her. He was touching her chest while brushing her hair with his fingers. He began to kiss her. Finally, Carly found the condoms she had brought with her from the U.S she bought a ten pack.

They fucked and Borris was an animal. He nibbled her neck and shoulders and just went at it. He started speaking Spanish to her and whispered how do you like it while pulling Carly’s hair. Carly was having the time of her life. Soon they finished and laid on the small twin bed together and went at it again and again.

Carly’s vagina was super sore at this point and called it a day. She rinsed off in the shower. Borris got dressed and started to watch tv in the living room. After her shower Carly went to check on Borris when she heard the door bell rang.

Carly told Borris to go to her room. Carly looked through the door hole and it was fucken Juanito. The middle-aged man, Juanito, looked stressed. Anyway, Carly answered the door and Juanito insisted coming in. He asked if she was alone in Spanish. Carly, said yes and he asked her again in English. Carly still said yes I’m alone. He told her I don’t want any problems is the boy is here. Carly said yes. Juanito said he wasn’t mad at her but that she was violating the contract and that the owner might talk to Carly about her violation. Carly a mid-west American girl, was nice and said she wouldn’t do it again. Juanito said he can’t be here all day, then Carly said but my roommates haven’t even moved in yet so that’s why I thought there would be no problems., and he hasn’t been here all day. He repeatedly told her he didn’t want problems and he wasn’t upset with her which clearly, he was. Juanito said you will be hearing from the owner and Carly responded, you mean your mom? Juanito gave her a look and left. When Carly was about to close the door, she noticed a camera right outside her front door. No wonder she thought, he knew Borris was still here because of the camera. She felt violated. That night she gathered her stuff and slept with Borris and his place. The next morning, she received an email from the owner that said they are going to keep a watchful eye on you. That was it for Carly she went back to the leasing office and demanded her money back and moved out!

Carly was stressed and ended up staying at Borris’ place for a week. She got tired of Borris and Borris got tired of her. She wanted to find a place so bad and finally she did and when she did Borris and Carly’s relationship ended, and Carly was out of condoms.

Thank you, Carly, to give me permission to post this on my blog.

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themoneybuff-blog · 6 years ago

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Which New Car Would You Buy?

Last week via email, reader David Hatch asked: If you were going to buy a new car, what would you get do you think? I wrote a short email replythen decide this topic is worth a deeper dive (of only for my own personal edification). You see, Kim and I have been talking about cars lately. Mine is fifteen years old and hers is over twenty. Although both are running fine, we realize that well have to replace one (or both) of them in the near future. When we do, what will we buy? What kind of new car is right for Kim? What kind of car is right for me? Lets start by looking at the cars Ive owned in the past. Every Car Ive Ever Owned I am not a car guy. Even though I can appreciate nice cars, I dont have any desire to own them. Im not sure why. Maybe its because my parents never had nice cars when I was a kid. They had practical, serviceable vehicles that got the job done. During my 33 years of driving, Ive owned five cars. In high school, I inherited my fathers 1980 Datsun 310 GX. I drove that little red beast until it died during my senior year of college. I had a lot of fun with the Datsun, but I treated it poorly. The best part about this car was that I could perform a lot of the maintenance myself even though I dont have much mechanical knowledge. (Driven from March 1985 to March 1991 six years.) After the Datsun died, Dad bought me a $1000 Ford Tempo as a college graduation present. It was a POS from the start. I drove it for less than six months before giving up on it. (Driven from March 1991 to September 1991 six months.) When I landed my first job (which turned out to be the worst job I ever had), I also bought my first new car: a 1992 Geo Storm. Naturally, I bought it on creditbefore Id even received a paycheck. I loved that $12,000 car the entire time I owned it. (Driven from September 1991 to December 2000 9.25 years.) On 01 December 2000, a semi sideswiped my Geo Storm on the freeway during morning traffic. The car spun 360+ degrees before striking an overpass guardrail, deploying the airbag. The car was totalled; fortunately, I wasnt hurt.

After the accident, I purchased a brand-new 2001 Ford Focus from a friend who worked at a local dealership. I paid $15,000. I hated that car from Day One. It was awful. (I should have read the Consumer Reports reviews before buying; I would have steered clear!) I bought that vehicle with a loan too. (Driven from December 2000 to April 2009 8.25 years.) In 2009, after years of dreaming about it, I realized I could afford to buy a used Mini Cooper. By this point, Id been writing GRS for three years, so I put my own advice into practice. I shopped around. I bought used. I paid $15,000 cash. Ive owned that 2004 Mini Cooper for more than nine years now. In fact, as of this month, its the car Ive owned longest in my lifetime.

As you can tell, when I buy a car, I tend to drive it for a long time. I rarely (if ever) get the new car itch. I wish I could say this was because Im rational about my car-buying decisions, but thats not it. Im just not a car guy. (Computers, though? Well, I want to upgrade my computer every year. I am a computer guy.) But David didnt ask about the cars Ive owned in the past. He asked what car Id buy new. What Kim and I Own Now Kim and I have been thinking about this question for a couple of years now. Neither of us is eager to buy a new vehicle, but from a pragmatic perspective, were both going to have to do so relatively soon. I currently own the afore-mentioned 2004 Mini Cooper (with roughly 150,000 miles) and a 2016 Harley-Davidson Street 750 motorcycle.Kim owns a 1997 Honda Accord (with roughly 240,000 miles) and a 2005 Harley-Davidson Sportster motorcycle. Both of our cars run about like youd expect. Kims is very reliable and never has major maintenance issues. It also has air conditioning that works. (The Mini has a coolant leak that Im unwilling to pay to have fixed, so we no longer use it for long summer trips.) Ive had to spend a few thousand to repair the Mini over the past couple of years, but its running fine at this moment. Ive been setting aside $600 per month in my car fund, Kim told me the other day. Before our RV trip, she was saving for a new car, but she cashed out that money to help pay for our travels. I have about $12,000 saved now. Thats not enough for a new car especially not for a Tesla Model 3 but its a start. You plan to sell your Honda to the girls at some point, right? I asked. We know two sisters who should be getting their licenses soon. Kim has promised them they can have her Honda for $500. Yep, Kim said. Thats the plan. But should I do that if I dont have enough saved to pay cash for a new car? Thats a tough question, I said. You could always drive my Mini Cooper to work. I dont use it much during the week. And for about half the year, I could ride my motorcycle instead. Im not sure what Id do during the winter. Well, are you still thinking about buying a beater pickup? Kim asked. Since moving to our country cottage last summer, weve come to realize that our lives would be much easier if we had something that would let us haul lumber and ladders and dirt and gravel and plants and furniture and so on. Im hoping to find a small pickup that runs well priced at a few thousand dollars. Yes, I still think the pickup is a good idea, I said. And that could certainly be my winter ride. I guess we dont have to make any decision yet, Kim said. We dont have to decide anything until one the girls learns how to drive. What Kind of Car Would I Buy? Although I spend most of my road time in vehicles that are fifteen or twenty years old, this year Ive had a lot of exposure to modern cars. During both my trip to Florida in January and my trip around the Southeast in April, I rented a car. Ive spent four weeks of 2018 essentially test-driving modern mid-sized sedans. They all feel like theyre from the future. (I think I had a Nissan Versa for one trip and a Hyundai Elantra for the other.) Ill admit: I like some of the new features. Back-up cameras are kind of cool. Sound systems that automatically pair with your phone are awesome. I like the whole keyless thing, too. (The other night, Kim pointed out that her car was so old that we still have to hand-crank the windows!) While visiting Nashville in April, a friend gave me a ride in his new $150,000 Mercedes. Holy cats! The interior of that thing was like the U.S.S. Enterprise (the fancy Picard-era Enterprise, not the utilitarian Kirk-era Enterprise). I have no desire to own a luxury automobile, but I can certainly appreciate the design touches. If Kim were to buy a new car, shed buy the Tesla Model 3. Shes a fan of electric vehicles. If she cant afford a Tesla when it comes time to buy a new car, I suspect shell end up with a Honda or Toyota hybrid. (Im not sure, though. I havent asked her.) She just wants a comfortable, reliable car to get to and from work, and for us to use on long road trips. Me? Well, Ive delayed answering this question for more than 1000 words because I dont really know which car Id buy if I had to buy a new car. Lets think it through together. I prefer smaller cars. I have zero desire to own a modern truck or SUV. I dont want a minivan. I dont want a large sedan. I like vehicles with small footprints. Theyre easier to park, fuel efficient, and generally more agile.I like something a little sporty. Im not a fast driver, but I do like to be able to accelerate now and then, either to overtake another car or to enjoy twisty country roads.I want a car with ample cargo space. As I mentioned earlier, I haul stuff all the time, so I want a vehicle that lets me carry stuff from the hardware store. Itd also be nice if I could transport a kayak or two. (Believe it or not the Mini has decent cargo room. It certainly has more usable cargo space than Kims Accord.) Based on this, Id focus my search on three classes of vehicles: compact pickup trucks, compact cars, and subcompact cars. Unfortunately, compact pickup trucks are a dying breed. Yes, Ford is bringing back the Ranger in a few months, but currently there are only five options in this category. The only one that gets good reviews is the Honda Ridgeline, and that costs $30,000 or more. There arent many options in the world of subcompact cars, either. Most of those options also get poor reviews (and low customer satisfaction scores). There are plenty of choices in the world of compact cars, however, and at prices that dont scare me. Both the Toyota Corolla and Toyota Prius are highly-rated and affordable. That said, if I bought a compact car, Id probably pursue a Mazda 3 or Hyundai Elantra. Plus, Id have to consider the modern Mini Cooper. (My ex-wifes boyfriend is a mechanic and fellow Mini fan. Hes warned me that newer Minis are both larger and less reliable, so Im skeptical that Id choose a Mini again. But I do love mine.)

The Bottom Line So, which new car would I purchase? Honestly, I dont know. I dont want to buy a new car, and I hope I dont have to make this sort of decision for many years. Having said that, I am absolutely in the market for a beat-up but reliable pickup preferably a compact pickup. Something like this seems perfect:

As a wildcard, I suppose a used Subaru Outback might be a smart choice for me also. (Actually, a Subaru Outback would be an excellent choice for our current lifestyle.) The older I get, the more I view vehicles as tools. Theyre not status symbols for me. I dont get an adrenaline rush from a souped-up sports car. Right now, I want a car that runs reliably, allows me to haul stuff, and doesnt take up a lot of space. Thats it. (Except when we take long road trips which happens two or three times each year I dont care about comfort.) Realistically speaking, heres what I expect will happen: One of the girls will get her license in the next year. Kim will sell the Honda to her for $500.Kim and I will pool money to buy her a new car. It wont be the Tesla Model 3 that she wants so badly. Itll be a Subaru Outback or a hybrid Toyota or Honda.I will continue to drive the Mini Cooper until it is well and truly dead. At that time or perhaps before Ill buy a beater pickup for use around the homestead. (Yes, we may end up having three cars at some point but only for a little while.) What about you? If you had to buy a new car, what would you buy? Why? What features are important to you? Are there certain makes or models that you prefer? Refuse to consider? And based on what Ive told you here, what kind of car would you recommend for me? https://www.getrichslowly.org/which-new-car/

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gsmatthews95 · 6 years ago

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Sun, sea and shithead

Hello moto. Another very... Out there title eh? It is that time again. I am here and I have lots of news for you. By lots I mean, quite little really but I have to blog before I get to the black mountain?? What is this black mountain I speak of? Ah for those Spanish speaking whizzes reading this you'll know the translation of this is Montenegro. The country. You know? You've probs heard very little of it. I know literally nothing but it is a country I am excited for and Alina has been itching to visit for months. We are literally quaking in our boots in anticipation of maybe the greatest country in the world. Ok maybe it won't be the best but expectations are high. Yay. Also another border crossing, woooo. There's been a lot of border crossings, occupational hazard of going round relatively small countries. Also, side note. I didn't get a leaving stamp from Bosnia hmmm. Firstly why did I get one in the first place? We're both in the EU. Brexit hasn't happened yet mate. Stop discriminating. God damn it. Alina didn't get a stamp, I did. It made No sense. I can only assume they thought I'd try and stay past brexit and become an illegal immigrant. Yet I've left so ha. They lose, I win... OK. Yeah but then when we went on to Croatia they drove straight past the border crossing without stopping, like at all. They just sped thru. Hmmmm. The inconsistency between border crossings has been an unfathomable mystery I've been probing in my mind. Some they dont stop you. Some they look at your passport. Some you stay on the bus. Some you get off. And some they have border guards shouting at you, not pointing any fingers (Serbia). So I hope this one I won't be pulled up for having no exit stamp. That would seriously dampen my trip. And be an irritating time and monetary inconvenience. #Pray4George. Anyhow, you'll find this out after my next post. Ill find out in an hour... For now you just get to hear more about our beautiful, relaxing, chilled out coastal camping time yeaaaaay. So we stayed in neum for four nights, where I posted my last blog from. I can't remember all I said last time so please excuse if I sound like a broken record and my repetition kills your brain cells. So this was the first use of the k mart tent and SLEEPING BAG ONESIE since leaving oz. It was emotional for me. And epic. We didn't put the lid on the tent so the roof was just a mozzie net. Breezy and you got lits of natural light. Plus being a three man tent there was lots of space. Alina even got to experience the beauty of the onesie first hand. A prestigious moment that I imagine will stay with her for the rest of her life, although as it was 30 degrees she didn't use it to its fullest potential unlike in the arctic conditions of central Australia at night. In the immortal words of Dwayne "the rock" Johnson: you're welcome. The campsite was nice although it had one toilet and one shower. Icky. Smelly. Gross. Wet. Feral. These are just an array of words I would use to describe them. Especially when there were 40 people staying there. Aside from this we had fun. Cheap, beers and lots of cards. There was one game we played, a lot. And those of you familiar with it will know from the title. Those not, will think my profanities are taking the best of me. Shithead. What a game. One I learnt as a wee infant with one Ashley beddows, then more innocently known as the magic game, it took hold of me and has been a staple of my life, especially while travelling or when skiing with the cousins. It is now also in Alina's lifeblood. We may have played over 100 maybe 200 games in like a week. Addiction. It is a cruel thing. One that we do not understand and can often underestimate until we are taken under its grips. Like meth addicts desperately looking for their next hit, Scrounging money for a few hours high, we scoured the streets for cards and when we found them we sprinted back to camp to let the games commence. We havent looked back. We could be anywhere now, we can't stop staring at those cards and threeing each other. Machu pichu? No thanks I'd rather win at shithead. We have an issue. Please. Call social services. We are addicts. We need help. We need our family. Mum. Dad. Hannah. Jessica. Rowland. If you're out there reading this please, hear my call and get us help. Lol. Ok neum was nice we went to the stone beach each day searching for shade. Its very hot here but the shade is perfect. Only issue we aren't the only ones desperately seeking shade. Everyone was, it was like some kind of teisted pilgrimmage where the shade was the statue of a virgin mary we pray to to cure our illnesses. There were however, some tanning machines who just took the sun in all its glory and power. There was limited shade but we generally found it as we cosyed up next to randoners, we sat on their feet and straddled their lilos. It was funny. The sea was gorgeous though, warm yet refreshing from the midday heat. The beach was also the ideal spot for some German lessons which have been under way (sporadically), for a few weeks now. Lots of vocab. I'm building my repertoire before my fluency comes. A zommershpraser for example is a freckle, it translates to summer sprinkle - cute. Only isuue is as its all oral my spelling is atrocious. Alina is a good teacher though. So give it a week and I'll be writing sonnets and reading ancient German texts. So apart from cards and tanning there isn't much to report from our time in neum (we're both very tanned tho, yeaaaaah baybey). Be jealous. Oh yes one more thing. There was some kind of travelling christian cult in our campsite who look to "help" disadvantaged, vulnerable kids in Bosnia. Hmmm. Sketchy. They even tried to convert both of us simultaneously in German and English. Very amusing. My guy, also from Guildford, lol, very random, that was his in by the way, how he began the conversion. He failed. He cited the illuminati and giants and conspiracy theories in his "sermon". It was hard to take him seriously before, this made it impossible. They both failed we are not a part of their cult (you're welcome). Amusing nonetheless though. Alina's "messiah" was an ex heroin addict who claimed the gift of god was better than any high he'd ever got, lol good joke. The simultaneous looks on our faces showed our disbelief in what they were trying to do. An outsider, a bystander that is would have had a chuckle I reckon. So the second part of our coastal adventure was the immense Dubrovnik. This is a city I have heard about for years from a variety of people. But never really thought about. Then when I found out we'd be going straight past it I pushed for us to make a stop there, Alina agreed. Only issue. It is super touristy and super expensive. Cheapest hostel €25, urgh. 1 night it is then. So we embarked upon our 24 hours in Dubrovnik, the UNESCO world heritage site. There is one thing for certain. That title is fully deserved. While a little part of me wants to revisit and rewrite the immortal "we h8 tourists" post from vietnam on Christians blog, my overwhelming desire (for once) is to talk about its beauty and the awe we (I especially) felt. I say I especially because of my obsession with walls, history and battles. Its like age of empires (the game I used to play? Or black and white 2 (another game I used to play) or game of thrones or lord of the rings. It is sick. So its an old town, very rich and is completely surrounded by the impeccable, huge, And fully preserved 2km wall. Every single inch of ground within these walls, that were built from the 1300s to the 1600s, is being used and covered in stone. Game of thrones was filmed there, it quite literally felt like being in GoT or LoTR as you wandered around the tiny alleyways that were super steep up the hill or as you leaned against the huge 20ft high walls. It was immense, Beautiful and unbelievably impressive. It was awesome, another few days would have been nice but one day was enough to see it all and experience the city. We also went to the small little beach next to the old town that was split in two. Free beach and the bar's paid beach. These halves were the same size but while the free part was rammed, no space to lie down fully the paid half had maybe 30 people on its 100 sun loungers. Ridiculous. It was a nice lil beach tho, sea still lush and a nice view of the city. We also went on a nice boat trip round the city and the island. Very relaxed and a nice view of the city. It was a good day spent and funnily enough the best view we got was on the bus just now on the way out as it climbed a fee hundred metres up and we saw right down over Dubrovnik. A successful few days for us as we head to Montenegro. I look forward greatly to regaleing the tales of this great journey. Bye bye. G. PS. I got thru the border fine. However, I have a very funny story from this crossing, all will be shared in good time.

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