#he needs to pay rent for the amount of space he’s taking up in my brain

[strangerinthelight]

This man salted the very earth from which my once wondrous crops grew, cursed my entire bloodline, and then, after all of that had the audacity to kick my dog. (I can’t stop thinking about him and it’s driving me crazy)

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Smut

Friends to Lovers

Flash backs coming up!

I don’t own WWE characters, it’s all for fun

Not edited (once I upload everything from my phone I’ll do a read through 🙌🏻)

Chapter Four | Where it all started…

I didn’t question how Dom got from the airport to the house we grew up in when I ordered my own Uber. In the car I texted Angie, his mom, letting her know he knew. I also told her about Raw and the disaster it was. 

Dom knew and was making everyone pay for it.

Me: I’m gonna stop by for some clothes but then I’ll grab a hotel room.

Angie: No, you aren’t. You’re coming home for the holidays. Dom can be pissed, we did what we had to. He’s only upset because he’s in love with you.

Me: It’s just like Rey said, you don’t find forever at Seventeen. 

Angie: And what if you did?

I didn’t respond to her last text when I focused on the sun peeking out. Pulling into the driveway I contemplated how I felt for Dom. He was easily the best person I knew but I couldn’t get past not being good enough for him. He deserved so much better than me.

He didn’t even know why his family took me in. Only his parents knew and they promised to keep it secret. 

Ringing the bell, Angie pulled me into her arms and squeezed me like she missed me. Hugging her back I let myself feel loved the way they tried for years. 

“Go get some sleep. It’s early. Your room is untouched.”

Taking her advice I crawled into my old bed in nothing more than panties begging Dom would pity me enough to simply ignore me if he picked up round two in my room.

Once I woke up I dragged myself to my feet, padding my way to the shared bathroom from our youth. Still yawning and stretching I didn’t realize the shower was on until I heard Dom moan. 

It was an unmistakable sound that had lived rent free in my head long after our first time. It was the perfect amount of breathy and demanding that instantly had me wet. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

I stopped in my tracks when I realized he wasn’t alone. His iPhone was propped up on the shower shelf and the way he was breathing I could tell his hand was touching himself. My breath hitched in my throat when I slowly backed out of the bathroom.

Standing in the doorway I listened to Dom keep moaning while his hand choked himself. “Show me how wet you are,” he barely said above a whisper and I felt my knees weakened. I wanted nothing more than to open the shower door and slip inside with him but he needed to hate me to move on. We couldn’t keep falling into bed and get over each other too.

Tempted I touched my own panties, savagely teased by the outline of his toned muscles.

I rummaged through my clothes for a hoodie and some sweats. I needed space, I needed my world to stop revolving around him for a few seconds. So I did what anyone else would do, actually go home. My real home.

I lived on the same street as Dominik, only my father was ruthless and my mother was submissive unlike his parents. Maybe enough time passed where we could make up, start over, forgive each other.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

At first it was going well until I voiced my endless debt for Dom’s family taking me in. That led to another fight and that fight ended the same way with my father’s fist colliding with my face. 

It wasn’t exactly like the first time.

Rey knew we were friends and saw my bruises. He asked Dominik to have me over for dinner and when they could get me alone they asked me for the truth. No questions later I was living with him and sharing a bathroom with Dom.

Nursing my bloody nose and already swelling eye I waited until it was late enough to sneak in without being seen by anyone. Especially Dominik. 

Collecting my things in my duffle bag, whatever I left behind thinking this was home and left what used to be my room barren I tiptoed into the bathroom to clean out my medicine cabinet. Swallowing some Advil with my handful of faucet water I choked them back. 

The door creaked open and Dom leaned against the door frame in the dark. There was no way he could see me, not in the pitch black.

Keeping my head down I ignored him, filling my makeup bag with anything I didn’t want to leave behind. 

“It doesn’t feel good hurting you.”

“It’s fine, Dom. I deserve it.”

Sighing, he stepped closer, running his hands through his hair. “I have been in love with you since I met you. When you asked me to take your virginity, all I wanted was for you to give me a chance.”

“Your dad said it best: no one finds forever at that age. I was living with your family, I owe them everything for taking me in. I had no one else, Dom. You have no idea what it was like at home. I couldn’t betray them by loving their son. I couldn’t be the person you fell for just to disappoint everyone when I didn’t live up to the demand.”

Coming even closer, I could tell he was trying not to reach out and touch me. “My family loves you. You are family.”

“Exactly. I couldn’t lose them,” I clapped back when I turned around without thinking.

Dom’s hands cupped my face, holding me in his hands and demanding to know what happened. “Who did this? What the fuck happened?”

He wasn’t going to let it go or be okay with a lie. “I thought I could finally go home. Guess daddy dearest wasn’t ready to forgive me.”

Dominik stormed out of the bathroom, chasing after him. I grabbed my hoodie and ran after him begging him to stop. His fists were clenched and when he slammed on his parent’s door I wanted to disappear. “You fucking knew and didn’t tell me? That’s why you took her in? Because her dad was beating her?” Rey was in his boxer briefs half asleep with the door cracked enough to hear his son’s rant. “Why didn’t you fucking do something? You’re a fucking fighter.”

“Dom. Dominik. Go cool off, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Pushing the door open on his dad it felt like the live event all over again. “Just like her getting pregnant? You kept vital information from me.”

“Son. Don’t do this. She’s been through enough.”

“And I was kept in the dark. I told you not to fuck with my family. She’s my family, not anyone else, her. Why is he still breathing? Why isn’t he in jail?”

Rey dropped his head trying to stay silent. “She asked me not to. That’s why. She had been abused her whole life and didn’t want to be the girl who survived, she wanted to live.”

“How the fuck could we live on the same street as him. You just took her in, no questions asked and expected me not to love her? You knew how much I fell for her. You fucking walked in on losing our virginities. How the fuck could you not tell me she got pregnant.” Pushing his dad with so much force I gasped before stepping closer.

Interrupting, I touched Dom’s chest pleading. “Dom please. Please, come to bed. I’ll explain. Just leave your parents out of it.”

His head jerked in my direction, seething with anger. “Come to bed? And what, pretend it’s okay for one night? Every time I fuck your it ruins me.” Squinting down at me he forced my face in his dad’s direction. “She tried to go home because she thought she had to choose between family and me. You guys let her go home to get beat. You could have stopped him a long time ago.”

“Dominik, what did you want us to do?”

“What I’m gonna do.” Dominik already had skinny jeans and a graphic tee on when he jogged down the stairs and made his way to my childhood home. 

Running after him in a long hoodie and panties I pulled on him so hard he had no choice but to stop. “Don’t do this. Getting arrested isn’t worth it. Losing your career isn’t worth it. I don’t regret him hitting me. It brought me here. I’m begging you, Dom.”

Towering over me his lips moved dangerously close to mine. “You know what I want. Are you agreeing?”

Shaking my head yes I let the tears fall. “Just come to bed.” Walking by his parents I apologized, keeping my face down and repenting for the trouble.

“Mija, don’t be sorry. You’re family.” Rey squeezed my arm. 

Pushing Dom into my room, closing the door and locking it I pulled the hoodie off. Dom’s body barely moved, hovering next to mine. “We don’t have to do this right now. You got me back inside.”

“There’s rules…” I slipped out of my panties before standing up straight against the door completely naked.

Looking down at my naked body his tongue swiped his lips. His hands grasped my hips, “okay. Rules. Tell me the rules.” 

Dragging his hands up my body to my breasts I gasped. “Dom.”

“Baby the rules. Need the rules,” his chest was pounding and his voice was breathy. 

His fingers pinched my nipples playfully, “You have to call and text everyday.” I bit down a moan trying to stay strong, “No other girls. And we have to take it slow.”

“I want to come inside you… What do the rules say about that?” his voice trailed off when I pulled the shirt over his head and he kissed my mouth so gently it felt unreal.

Slipping his tongue inside my mouth I undid his jeans and prayed for him to take them off quickly before I changed my mind. I was nervous when our hands laced together, both naked in the middle of my room, butterflies filling my stomach the same way when he first fucked me.

“Dom, wait, wait.” my body was being pulled into his hips trying to clash while his mouth kissed my neck. I was so wet that I wasn’t even sure it would feel good when I made my last confession. “No one’s been inside me since you. All the guys and dates, it was just so you could hate me.”

“It was only me? This is my pussy? Say it, Mami.” 

Shaking my head yes Dominik lifted me up into his arms, walking over to the bed and ending up on top of me. “No one but you.”

“Fuck baby. I’m so fucking hard right now.” The second his palms held my thighs up I felt him slip inside me. Every inch rubbed up against every nerve, forcing my hips to grind against him and my whimpers to be uncontrollable. 

“Dom,” I whimpered when he went too deep, hitting parts of me that screamed. 

Lowering down over me, pinning my legs at his hips, and covering my neck in lazy kisses. “Relax, mi amor, I know how to make you feel good.”

Dominik wasn’t lying. Every slip up we had ended in earth shattering orgasms and the lingering desire for more. When he touches me everything writers for him even more.

“I’m scared of messing it up,” I whispered into his chest as his thrusts picked up speed. 

His hands smoothed down my face and body weight sat on his elbows. “You can’t mess it up when we haven’t even tried.” Moaning into my mouth our tongues swiped at each other. “Let me take care of you. Let me love you.”

“Dominik, Dom. I’m close,” I whimpered into his mouth when his out of breath chest heaved against mine.

“Don’t come yet baby. Me vuelves loca, mi amore.” The way he spoke Spanish made my pussy only get tighter as he thrusted his way inside me over and over. Every inch of him was covered in my arousal by the time I felt my body tensed. “I’m gonna come, Mami.”

He didn’t have to tell me, I could feel the way he pulsed and jerked inside me. Our bodies drove each other crazy and the way we came shook through us.

Dom was off for two weeks for the holidays which was unheard of. Ever since he skyrocketed to the main roster of WWE Dom was never home.

Waking up cuddled up into Dom’s arm was surreal. It felt like a dream but it had been true. Turning into me his lips found mine before he even opened his eyes. “Do you regret it yet?”

His body was pressed again mine, every inch of him stiffening up. “Do you hear that?” Pausing we both listened when it became clear as day. It was his mom and dad having sex. We broke out into a fit of laughter trying to unheard  our own payback.

“Let’s show them how it’s done, baby.” Helping me into his lap I straddled him as he sat up against the headboard. “Come here,” he whispered before our tongues wrestled in between our mouths.

Pushing my hips up I felt Dom’s knuckles graze my puffy pussy as he guided himself inside me. I held my breath with every inch I sat down on until I exhaled a quiet moan. “That’s it baby girl. Goddamn, that feels good.”

Slowly rocking my hips and crushing my clit against his body I started to shake all over. My legs vibrated and my heart was racing as Dominik’s hands cupped my ass, picking up my pace.

“I want as much of you as I can before I have to leave for Raw.”

His confession felt like a brick dropping through my stomach. He was leaving and I wouldn’t be with him. Even if we got pregnant in some dangerous game of fixing the problems we had I would be pregnant and alone all over again.

His mouth found my neck, my chest, and sucked my hard nipples into his mouth. His tongue bullied my nippled in his mouth and I gasped trying not to come right then and there. 

“Do you know how many times I touched myself to this? How many times have I came all over toys just imagining riding you?” I couldn’t believe it was happening. “Dom. I’m close.”

His hips started to push back and his hands only grabbed onto my hips tighter. “Fuck, mi amore. I’m gonna come inside you.”

Leaning into him, my nipples scrapping his chest and my mouth colliding with his neck I whispered, “I want you to, please, come inside me.”

His face turned into mine as my hips bucked into his lap and all of his inside of me felt hard enough to get hurt on. “Oh my god. It’s so hard,” I purred into him.

“Mi amore, me estoy corriendo,” his breathy voice only made me wetter as his grip held me in place from rolling my hips anymore. Trying to grind myself over our matching orgasms his grip got tighter. “Don’t move baby, don’t move.” He groaned out against my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist and moaning out loud. 

“Dom. Dominik.” Trying to catch my breath I shook on top of Dom when he relaxed back into the headboard. 

Pushing me down next to him he got between my wet legs, both of our orgasms coating my pussy. “I wanna taste you, hermosa. I wanna know what you taste like after I make you come.”

Dom’s tongue licked my pussy and I writhed against the bed. I gasped and moaned without realizing I might have been too loud. “Dom, oh my god, Dom I can’t.”

The way Dominik licked every sensitive part of me without trying had my body shaking. I felt like I couldn’t breath and my legs were going to fall off. “Can’t what baby? Come in my mouth for me?”

My back arched and my head tossing back as his tongue slipped inside me. My entire body was shaking when my knees automatically closed around his head as it rolled up me. 

Landing next to me he pulled me into him as I barely recovered. “I love the way you taste. I love everything about you. I actually have a confession too…” I clamped my eyes closed only for a second hoping it wasn’t Rhea related. “I knew you wouldn’t let it happen again so I set up cameras in our condo that night. I have the video of us fucking. That’s what gets me through being without you, on the road, everything.”

“Dom!” I playfully hit his shoulder. “I want to see!” 

“I had someone edit for me so it’s not so bad when the cameras switch between each other. Reaching for the night stand he realized his phone was still in his room when he poured out of bed. Pushing his pants on he went through the shared bathroom before coming back. 

Handing me his phone I started getting nervous. “I’m gonna shower, hermosa. You watch.” Rolling onto my stomach and pushing into my elbows I placed the phone against a pillow and pressed play.

[nee-biter]

Miguel x Peter x Reader x Jess? 😍

Thanks for the ask, anon! 🫶 So uh.. prepare yourselves 😭?

Internship Things | Miguel x Peter B x Reader x Jess

You are Jess's mentee, Miguel's sugar baby, and Peter B's mistress all the while trying to complete your internship hours 😮‍💨

Warnings: transactional relationships, sharing is caring, cunnilingus, consensual non-con, degradation, age gap, cheating, honestly it's just dirty

Your university was one of the most prestigious in Nueva York and had ties with both the local government and the local superhuman establishments.

Being one of the top students in your course, political science, you were tasked to survey and work in an institution of your choice; for whatever reason, you chose to intern at Spider Society.

How did you know Miguel O'Hara? He told you they don't accept interns. "There's no room for a regular girl like you." When you insisted, arguing that all institutions can benefit from having their systems looked into, he offered to sign your documents and pay for your tuition if you just shut that pretty mouth of yours and become a decoration in his office.

Maybe he was joking, so you spat back. He didn't like that.

How did you know Jessica Drew? That same day in that same office, she caught Miguel inside you, your panties balled up and stuffed in your mouth. His cum on your stomach, but he was still pumping it deep in you; your hands were wrapped around his neck and your eyes rolled back—couldn't escape him but also couldn't resist him. Jessica watched, turned on by her secrecy behind the door before she eventually came in and yanked you off from him. "Stop breeding girls like cattle, Miguel. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll treat you better."

She was such a caring yet stern mentor that you could forgive her if she sometimes had the need to lick your clit over and over again until you squirt on her mouth. After a long day of her missions and your paperwork, she would knock at your work space.

How did you know Peter B Parker? You caught him making out with Miguel on your way to inspect the weapons archive, so now you had to be in on their secret. And having only one secret to keep isn't enough, you had to be their little play thing now.

Miguel tempted Peter B to take you. For some reason Peter B can cheat on his wife with a man, but gets faint at the idea of fucking another pussy. Peter B gently assured you could trust him and so, when he finally touched you—a soft hand on your hip—you leaned into his touch and became pliable to his kisses. From your neck, to your collarbones, until your clothes have come off and his lips were on your breasts then your wet cunt.

"I'm sorry, baby, what's your name again?" Of course he only asked that once his cock was already inside you.

You were only three weeks into your internship, but the amount of times your pussy has been used between the three of them could not be counted on your ten fingers.

Sometimes, Peter B would make small talk with you and tell you all about his wonderful daughter that you'd been wanting to meet. But then the next minute, he would sit you down a couch and start fingering you, one of your tits being suckled by him. He asked you once, "Am I the oldest man you've ever had? I swear I won't be shocked."

On some days, Miguel would call you into his lab with a pathetic excuse like 'needing outsider perspective.' It's code for needing you on your knees, sucking him good but never once pleasing you back. As he buries his cock in your throat, Miguel would pinch your nose, further tormenting you. He likes to use you and he's making that clear. "You're my personal slut, I own you. I pay you."

Honestly, you have Jess to thank for taking care of you at the end of any day. She invited you to her universe once and rented a hotel room—"call it a work-related field trip." She would run a bath for both of you, ask about your day, before your two bodies would intertwine. She'd have you lean on the wall, leg up, as she lapped your juices. She'd have you on the bed, exploring positions until you're eventually spent and gasping for air. "Thank god you chose this place to work in. Can't live without mommy's princess."

When your school asks you what you had been doing in Spider Society, maybe just lie?

[chaoticpandemonium]

Things to keep in mind when you are pushing a friend/family member in a wheelchair

From the perspective of a crutch/ambulatory wheelchair user.

If you have someone in your life that uses a wheelchair or might be soon please take a moment to read (it's disability pride month you have to). These are based on things that I have had to deal with when being pushed in a wheelchair.

When you are pushing someone, you are essentially controlling their legs. Which means you do not randomly veer off or solely decide where you're going. Example 1, you are in a museum and looking at a display, you want to move onto the next display. Do not just suddenly start moving them away from the display somewhere else. Communicate to them you are finished and want to move on, maybe they'll say 'go onto the next and I will push myself', or they will say they're are also ready to start moving. Example 2, you are in a store. If the person wants to go down a particular aisle or stop to look at something make sure you are paying attention or allowing them that freedom to look at things. Example 3, you see someone you would like to go say hi to or something you would like to look at. If you want to stop and speak with someone or look at something, again communicate. Let them know and they can decide whether to wait for you in a safe spot, go do their own thing, or join you! Just please say something first before veering off towards someone or something.

When you have stopped for more than a few minutes or if the person has stood from their wheelchair make sure the brakes are off and they know you're gonna start moving. You can damage the chair if the brakes are engaged and you start to trying moving. Similarly, do not move the chair when they aren't in it without permission. They may need it near by or again the brakes.

Listen to the person when it comes to speed or direction. If they ask you to slow down, slow down. Maybe, you're being a little cautious at first and they want you to speed up, if you can, do it! If they let you know that they feel like your veering towards people listen and try to gently correct. You are used to your body and can forget what spaces you can now not fit through, just listen please.

If you get upset with the person in the chair or are done pushing, DO NOT push them as hard as you physically can into: people, tables, shelves, or oncoming traffic etc. Yes, this has to be said. Someone asking you to be mindful that a large group of people are coming through or asking to please go back to what they were looking at are NOT attacks on you. (Yes, I almost went over a 6 inch drop into a busy parking lot and hurt my hands numerous times stopping myself from hitting people/things (little brothers suck sometimes))

Your friend of family member is NOT a table/cart. Do not place things on their lap, in the wheelchairs pockets, or packs without permission. They are not your pack mule to hold all the things you don't want to. When I was on vacation with my family I was using a rented wheelchair with the thinnest padding known to man. This first, made it very uncomfortable to sit in when people keep shoving their stuff in the back rest pocket. Second, made folding the chair when we getting back in the car very hard. The amount of shit my Mum would pull out and try to give to me and I'd go 'no fucking clue whose shit that all is but it was digging into my back the whole day'. I did snap at my Dad once because he was constantly just dropping his hat on my lap. However, use proper communication and maybe the person would be happy to hold a few things while you are on an outing. Having a properly equipped wheelchair will also make this easier. (The rented wheelchair was very awkward especially cause I kept my crutch on me at all times for transfer or if I needed to walk something)

If someone asks if they can transfer/walk for any reason, do not respond for them. Please let us advocate for ourselves and our needs in that moment. If there is something we would like you to help with in this situation, we will let you know.

Pay attention to uneven surfaces and try to use the accessible routes. Just because you are strong enough to get us over the curb doesn't mean my body is going to like that. If there isn't a easily accessible access point discuss with them before making any decisions.

Bonus: Please check whether a place is accessible before inviting them or booking something. It's really nice to hear that you checked and there's an elevator, rather than check ourselves and see there's too many stairs for us to join. That being said don't just stop inviting them to do things, just be mindful and ask what thinks make navigating an inaccessible world easier for them.

That's all I've got for now and I feel like the lesson is COMMUNICATION. Whether it be be verbal, hand signals, ASL, tapping, etc communicate with who you are pushing. The goal is for both of you to have a good time or at the least navigate comfortably.

If you are a wheelchair user and have things to add please do!

[callahanisms]

Impressions - Part 02

pairing: tashi duncan x bipoc! fem! reader

word count: 2.3k words

context: 2019. los angeles. tashi duncan has found her perfect actor after a vigorous round of auditions. but did the actor stumble upon the audition by chance? or was it premeditated?

no specific pronouns used. reader is able bodied and can speak. reader is about 25, while tashi is 31/32.

based on this post. check out part 01.

sorry for taking so long. grad school is really kicking my butt right now.

She doesn’t seem impressed.

The way she turns the pages of the stapled papers, her nails glimmering in the light. There’s a hint of glitter and they have a cream to pink ombre. They look really nice. And it was clear she had just gotten them done. The clear gloss made her lips look soft and shiny.

Your heart is pounding. You don’t know why. Tashi Duncan asked you for criticism of her work. Were you perhaps not harsh enough? It was hard to tell. The script was just…well, you wanted to keep reading. You had to read it a fourth time to actually start annotating and adding your notes. It was also hard to criticize her vision without any sort of visual. Film was a visual medium after all. It was hard to see what she meant when you were reading.

“Did you hold back?”

You pick up the glass of sangria and take a small sip. “Well…”

Tashi looks at you expectantly. “I thought you’d be harsher.”

“It’s hard to judge entirely. Because part of film critique is…to see the film…”

Her other hand plays with the fork, before stabbing a few leaves and tomatoes of her salad. “So…essentially, you can’t fully critique it without seeing the actual film.”

“A script is only part of it. I just think it’d be nice to have some sort of visual.” Your plate was already clean from your appetizer. It felt odd to be treated to a full course meal by Tashi. But she said you wouldn’t need to pay. Which was generous considering how expensive the restaurant was and being an adjunct didn’t pay as much as you wanted it to. Plus rent was due soon.

“That’s fair. I have a specific vision I want to achieve.” She closes the script and her finger runs over the colored tabs. She liked that the cover page had a key for the colors—by highlighter and by tab. “You seem well aware of that.”

“I’ve watched…most of your stuff. All your films. Majority of the television episodes you’ve directed. And I’ve watched a lot of behind the scenes interviews.” You feel your cheeks heat up. Honestly, you sounded like a bit of a fan.

There’s a smile creeping up on Tashi’s face. “It’s surprisingly rare to find people that have watched your work and…understand your process.” She says. “It takes a certain amount of trust and popularity to be given full control.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve proven yourself already. Your last film was amazing. 5 stars on Letterboxd.” You hold your glass, tipping it towards the director.

Tashi picks up her cocktail and gently taps the glass against your own. “You and the other hundreds of thousands of people.”

“Where are we?”

Tashi puts the car in park and turns off the ignition with the touch of a button. There’s a click and the rapid retraction of her seatbelt. “My house.” The sound of the door opening is crisp. Or maybe it’s because the sangria made things sound sharper than they should.

It was actually smaller than you thought. But certainly a lot of space for a person living alone. “How many bedrooms?” You unbuckle your seat and climb out of the car. The air feels refreshing against the hot skin of your face. You could feel the vessels throbbing beneath from the body’s processing of the ingested alcohol. You make sure to close the door all the way and follow after her.

Her keys have a keychain attached to it: a Sonny Angel with a frog hat. And he’s wearing a green shirt and some jeans. “Three beds, one full bath, one half bath.” She says. “It’s expensive, but I can afford it. And one of the bedrooms is…well, you’ll see.” When she looks back at you, it’s teasing. The corner of her mouth is curled into one of her charming smirks. The kind that also became a popular meme to use online. “The other is a guest bedroom. Because you never know when someone’s going to stay the night.”

“So…does that mean your parents drop in often?”

“Yes.” The door clicks and she pushes the door open. “Hi~” Her voice is suddenly a pitch higher.

When you step into the house and close the door behind you, you see why. A gray tabby cat nuzzles up against Tashi’s leg, mewling. It suddenly jumps, trying to climb up her pants. You remove your shoes, setting them to the side so they aren't in the way of the door. And you make sure to lock the front door. “Who’s this?” You ask.

“I named her K.C.” Tashi gently pries the cat off of her pants and holds her.

���After your character on that spy sitcom?”

“Yes. Precisely.” Her nails scratch K.C.’s chin and there’s a purr in response. “She’s a little troublemaker. But she followed me home one day after I went out to eat. No one came to claim her, so now she’s my cat.”

You take a few steps closer to her and put your finger out. K.C. sniffs the offered finger and nuzzles her nose against it. “How old is she?”

“Around six months. She followed me home when she was only eight weeks old.” Tashi bends down to set the cat down. You follow the director into the kitchen, taking in the decorations after your eyes adjust to the sudden turning on of the soft lights. You’re not surprised to find plenty of movie posters on the wall, including one of Amélie and Tampopo. Which was smart. Putting the movie about food in the kitchen certainly made the hunger return.

Tashi quickly fills her bowl with some kibble, wet food, and a little bit of bone broth. She sets it down and K.C. immediately begins to eat. “Kittens. They always eat like they were never fed.” You joke.

“There was a time she literally ate my toast.” Tashi slowly plucks the rings off her fingers and washes her hands. They move so delicately. Covered in a thick layer of suds. Her scrubbing beneath her fingernails. The water washes away the soap and she turns off the faucet, drying her hands. The towel gets between her fingers. Her fingers. Her long fingers. She slides the rings back on. “She jumped up and just took my toast out of my fingers. And it had grape jelly on it—”

“Wait. You eat grape jelly?” You knew no one that actually liked grape jelly. Aside from your grandfather and younger brother.

Tashi rolls her eyes. “I prefer raspberry. But a friend got me an artisanal grape jelly when he visited the farmer’s market. Said it’d be good to try it. And it was good. I just prefer raspberry. The tartness balances better with the sugar.” She begins walking and when she looks back at you, you know what she’s saying.

Follow me.

Your feet carry you and you can faintly smell the lingering notes of her perfume. Tashi turns the hallway light on and then opens a door off to the side. She flicks the light switch on and the room is filled with a warm light. You stand in the door while she goes over to the desk and leans against it, arms crossed over her chest.

You’re taken in by the boxes in the corner, stacked. There’s an easel by the window. Multiple sheets of paper were taped onto the wall. There’s a board with more sheets of paper pinned to it. It definitely feels like an artist’s studio, a stark contrast to the reality of Tashi Duncan as a filmmaker.

“So you’re artsy?” You ask.

“You could say that.” She cocks her head to the side. “You can come in, you know.”

“Yeah…I’m afraid I might set this place on fire.” A nervous chuckle escapes you. It’s utterly gorgeous. And some of the pieces on the wall take your breath away. Gorgeous. Vibrant. Full of color and with gorgeous shading. There’s some photographs tapped around the room too. Mostly landscapes and settings. One collection is just a room at different angles.

“You won’t. Just come take a look. These are my storyboards.”

“...Huh!”

Your jaw practically dropped.

These were Tashi Duncan’s storyboards?

This was on a similar level to Ridley Scott. That was kind of mindblowing. “Y-Your storyboards?”

“I just have a really tedious process.” Tashi uncrosses her arms and rests them between her thighs. “It’s a little…frustrating. But it really helps get the images out of my head and onto something tangible. And if it doesn’t look like what I actually want it to, then I am still satisfied anyways because my vision was fulfilled.”

Your step is gentle and you walk over to the board first. This was clearly the storyboard with guidelines and vague shapes to indicate lighting and shadows. It was clear to see that Tashi’s strong suit was perspective. Your eyes slowly move to the big paper taped to the wall. A woman looking up. The light is shining down while the background is bathed in a dark blue light. Blood covers her mouth and drips down her chin and neck. The neckline of her dress is red, soaked from blood. And…

“She kind of looks like me.”

Tashi purses her lips. “Yeah.” She lets out a small laugh. “It just came to me in a dream.”

You look back at her, smiling. “It’s funny how dreams work, huh? The kind of people our subconscious recognizes and puts together. Which reminds me. I think you should maybe lean more into psychoanalysis for your movie. I know the idea of id, ego, and superego is overdone and may be boring…but I think there would be something interesting in presenting your three primary characters in that way. It never gets old. And honestly, psychoanalytical readings are never not trendy.”

“That’s actually an amazing suggestion.” Tashi licks her lips. You fail to notice her eyes trailing down your back.

“I’m happy you think so. I think a lot of film scholars would just go crazy over it.” You look at her. “Also, where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall to your right. It has a peacock on the door.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. I just had a lot of sangria.”

Tashi watches you leave. And she turns back to her desk, collecting the photos together and putting them in a neat pile. Pictures of you. Some of them were stills. Some your headshots. Others from your Instagram account. She opens the drawer and lifts up a manila folder and sketchbook, shoving the photos beneath. The drawer slams shut and she opens another drawer off the side, pulling out some more books.

She hears the sound of the toilet flushing and then the running water of the sink. You come back within three minutes, hands dried and rubbing lotion into your skin. “Where’d you get the lotion in the bathroom?”

“Costco.”

“Damn. That’s hot.”

You realize what you just said.

“I-I mean…it’s hot that you have a Costco membership!”

Tashi can’t help but laugh. “I would say the same to someone. Do you want something to drink? Some tea? Or maybe some water?”

“I think water would be good.”

“Be right back.” When Tashi leaves the room, her clothes brush against you. You feel the goosebumps forming over your arm. And there’s her perfume. It was addictive.

You decide to walk around the room, taking in the storyboards more. You don’t dare touch the boxes, despite the urge to look. There’s something else that satiates your curiosity: the books on the desk. You pick one up and carefully open it to a random page. It’s some sketches. You recognize one of the sketches as actor and producer Art Donaldson. You forgot that he was in Tashi’s second film, on top of producing it.

“Like them?”

You nearly jump, slamming the book closed. Tashi walks over and sets a mug of water on the desk. She hands you the other one and you take it. There are flowers on it. “Sorry. I was just looking—”

“It’s fine. You’re already in here. You might as well look.” Tashi shrugs.

“You’re like…amazing!”

“It took a lot of practice.” Tashi grabs the more run down book and flips it open. You purse your lips to stifle a laugh. “It’s okay, you know. We all start somewhere. Besides, Rian Johnson’s storyboards look the same. And this was my first time directing.”

Tashi Duncan’s directorial debut. Inside Audrey Horne.

“You’re right. I mean if it gets the job done…what’s the point in arguing?” You take a sip of the cold water. “So you practiced and now…you just do full on art pieces?”

“I like experimenting with color.” She shrugs. “And naturally if I am taking inspiration from Dario Argento and technicolor, then it’s best to figure out what colors mesh well.”

“So what do you use?”

“Pastels. I like my drawings to look smooth.”

“You do have a way with color.” Your eyes keep going back to the big drawing on the wall, of your lookalike staring up at something in both awe and horror. “I’m guessing that’s the scene of when I cannibalize my former castmate?”

“It is. I have a specific idea of what that shot would look like.” Tashi takes a sip, her brown eyes watching your body language. You’re at ease. You’re relaxed. You’re in the mood for chatter and to hear more, like the film nerd that you were. “So…do you have anything else you want to add?”

“I mean…your script is solid. And seeing what you intend to make just…it’s awesome to see what your vision is.”

Even though Tashi said she didn’t want a yes man, she still liked getting praise. It was necessary to know what she was doing right and how to keep it right. But hearing it from you was different. It was more special. So she decides to prompt you.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

[is-not-a-unicorn]

I want my home livable Again

How did things get this bad?

This is a five year long depression mess. I bought a house with a couple of friends several years ago. I was the ONLY one cleaning, which was annoying but manageable. And then my ESA got cancer and eventually passed away.

After that, I struggled with taking care of myself. I became overwhelmed with cleaning up after everyone and stopped cleaning common areas. The messier it got, the more depressed and overwhelmed I got. I've spoken with my roommates about cleaning up after themselves and their pets, they said they would but never did. The kitchen became unusable and I ate fast food almost exclusively for about a year.

I moved everything into my bedroom. My room slowly became as bad as the rest of the house.

I got a mini fridge, tabletop oven, my own dishes, and a single tabletop burner so I could cook in my room and stop eating so much fast food. It helped me feel like I had more control over my life and cooking made me feel a little bit better.

I also make art, all my hobbies are in this room. It's an overwhelming amount of stuff here. I have more clothes than anyone would ever need to own. I also have way too many books.

I impulse buy things when I get stressed. It's a bad coping mechanism that I'm working on fixing because it just adds to the clutter.

Two years ago I met my partner and we've been living in an apartment together. I'm in a better place mentally now but he lost his job recently (he has a new job but it pays half as much as the old one) so we're going to move into my house once our lease is up because I can't afford rent AND the mortgage.

He's offered to help me clean but I'm too embarassed to let him see this. I want to get my room decluttered and cleaned before I get his help with the rest of the house.

I'm hoping to remodel the house eventually so I can separate our space from my roommates' living space.

But for now I'm documenting my cleaning journey. I feel like this blog will help me and others feel less alone in the struggle of recovering from hoarding

[spammynegrutou]

Hi! Once again the Riku brain rot has consumed my entire being, so here's some headcanons I've created (not in any particular order).

BASIC HCS 💕

He's Handy! He can fix almost anything. He loves tinkering with his Gummi Ship!

His favorite food is grilled fish! White fish specifically, like flounder, sea bass, tilapia, etc. And he has a taste for savory treats, which combats Sora's sweet tooth.

He comes from a loving home. He loves his parents, a lot and they love him. However, his biological mother passed away when he was 7ish (after BBS, but before Kairi arrived). His father became emotionally unavailable for a while, until he met Riku's stepmom. She filled her motherly role over Riku and he thanks her for it. He loves his step mom!!!

His dad taught him a variety of things like: self defense, how to fix common things, fishing, basic survival skills, and the basics of building

He moved out after KH2, and got his own place. The reason why is because after everything he's been through he needs his own space to brood about how small everything is. Albeit sad, his father approved and has the land lady check up on him every so often 🥺 Riku helps outs his elderly land lady and pays rent on TIME! He's a responsible boy 😊

Riku isn't all into fashion but he can DRESS. He loves a good "urban/street wear" look, and fucks heavy with grunge. He appreciates the chains and skull designs that come with "punk" fashion but doesn't think he can pull it off

Riku doesn't spend a needless amount of time on his looks. He has gel for his hair, a skin care routine, and a nighttime ritual to keep his hygiene up. He's very much a pretty boy in our eyes, but that's just his genes. He does the bare minimum to keep himself looking presentable

Speaking of his looks, he surprisingly gets his good genes from his dad. The muscles, the hair, the jaw line, all from his old man. His father was most definitely a looker back in the day! That being said, Riku has his mother's smile and her eyes. He also carries her temperament with him.

Along with tinkering being a hobby of his, he likes video games too! But he's not a complete shut in video game nerd. Riku LOVES the outdoors. The wilderness calls him like he's a feral animal !!! He likes camping, and fishing! He's the main guy on the islands you'd go to for some handy survival tips. He knows a good amount of edible plants, fungi, berries, leaves, and etcetera to eat if he ever got stranded. He has one or two books on that kind of stuff but he doesn't read it anymore.

After the events of KH2, Riku didn't go back to highschool. Instead he got a GED (or KH equivalent) online and started taking community college courses. He's doing it to make his dearly departed mother proud.

To add on to that, Riku is a fast learner. He's quite intellectual when it comes to mathematics, some history, and biology but please don't ask him why the author made the curtains blue 😭 the boy is emotionally stunted. He is NOT using critical thinking when it comes down to poetry or thick prose. He has some emotional intelligence but compared to Sora, he might as well have the emotional capacity of a brick wall 😭

Alright! That's all I have for now (it's 5am, I should be sleeping) if I have any more I'll post em lol

XOXO Mx. Jade 💕

[valetinas]

Ngl one thing that has bothered me from sing like the movie about singing animals competing for 100,000. Why was he broke? Like he had a gigantic theater he could’ve rented it out as like a venue for concerts like it’s gigantic there’s no way no big singer wanted it. They could’ve had some community theater and charge like five a ticket and have good advertising. They could’ve held big events like ceremonies or award shows for rich people like it’s a big theater with a lot of space it’s pretty there’s no way NOBODY at all didn’t want to rent it out like…? Maybe he wasn’t a good business guy or something like he couldn’t have invested in a commercial or something to spread the word about his theatre so rich famous people knew? Loans man. So much opportunity and he used it on some scam? Like he could’ve pretended it was to get people more recognition and charge like fifty-hundred dollars to get them to make a professional audition and get them more recognition to start up an acting career. You can’t tell me in that big city nobody wanted to be an actor or singer. They could’ve easily held a couple tours or award shows or even a game show for that matter with the right advertising like no way flyers was all it took for people to take hours out of their day to preform like yeah money but a commercial or going on the news like those people selling stuff would’ve done the trick like come up with a slogan man or a logo and get more people to recognize your business for more profit. I’m pretty sure he didn’t pay for a big theatre out of pocket he would’ve used loans yeah debt but extend those loans win win bank gets more overall money from you and you get less amount needed to pay every month. Even so the second he figured out the error he could’ve been like “my bad yall it’s only 1,000” like I bet at least two or three people would’ve stayed like it’s free money and it’s not a little yknow like he HAD to go with the lie??

[skwigelfskwisgaar]

You have been hiding from your mother ever since you found the tool of your trade, the instrument of your very soul. And yet there she was in her trademark red high slitted dress, as you scrambled backwards further away from her sight as if almost ashamed. You could see part of Anja's robe behind her and you almost felt tickled at the irony.

While you and Toki were what most people called bitter rivals, best friend, or even just frenemies, constantly at odds and constantly hanging out - Surveta and Anja were like sisters who never stopped just being themsleves and with each other. There was times you could see why people so adamantly swore you and Toki were up to no good - the way your mother spoke of Anja had you secondguessing everything you knew about the sex addicted woman. And you didn't like it.

Even by European standards of friendship and affection, the way she held Anja in tender hugs or caressed her face after a tender kiss goodbye with promises of more get-togethers made your skin squirm.

On one hand you liked that she had a steady presence that wasn't repulsed by her actions, and once so willing to accept her - Odin knows she's ruined so many people, inclhding you to some extent, over her lifetime. On the other, you didn't want that person to be Anja Wartooth and you definitely didn't like --

"You amnst going to keeps hidings - I amns tired of tryings to talk to you!" She takes a meaningful step forward and immediately you feel like the small kid packing your things because Surveta fucked the wrong man or she wasn't able to pay rent with sex anymore - between all those movings from Stockholm and Gothenburg, you could count on one hand the amount of times you stayed for more than a year in any town.

It was the feeling of failing. Of being scared. Of being small and insignificant.

The feeling of being a bitter disappointment.

"Efter allt jag har gjort för att du ska vara klädd och ha bostad och mat, vill du inte ens prata med mig...."

You remember it completely different - eating snow at night when she forgot to buy food, sleeping in the same room in your room where she and you could cuddle and stay warm, the clothes you wore having to be gifted by your grandmother (until she passed away and gave Surveta the cabin you callex home) because your own mother couldn't afford clothes for herself, much less a boy growing way too tall, way too quickly.

You remember how during those hard days, before she settled finally in the cabin you called home in your later years, she would say 'it's just you and Mommy - we will take care of each other'. You remember telling yourself you would, despite the feeling of never being good enough or being a nuisance during her dates. The feeling bubbles up in you, like magma under pressure.

That itch.

The itch to play, to drink, to have a pile of groupies, the need of that needle piercing your skin under the strap --

"Surveta, he needs space. They all do. Just like Toki needed time, so does your boy. Come, let us enjoy the company of Rose and Stella. Molly said there would be wine and cheese from her province she will provide for tonight."

Anja comes up to your rescue, her simple Swedish breaking the growing maw of silence between you and your mother. You realize without looking at your mother in the eye that you are clutching your guitar much too harshly, your hands aching like they did when you wanted nothing more than to ignore the hunger and the cold.

Anja lays a gentle hand on the small of Surveta's back as she takes her other arm and pulls her back. You manage to make eye contact for a brief second - Surveta looks worried, concerned at you or at your pathetic display of refusal. But it's there, and the guilt begins to chew at you and burn with a fiery strength that look look down to your guitar again before you say something.

"I hope to enjoy your company at dinner, Skwisgaar," says Anja, as Surveta take a deep breath and lets her friend guide her away, "and I hope my son finds strength with his friends to do the same with me. Come, friend, we must unpack and find time for ourselves." Anja gently tugs at Surveta's arm, who is clearly upset and sniffling, and you fight back the urge to curl up and disappear.

They leave, the clacking heels a jarring comparison to the almost silent boots next them as you process the turmoil of emtions swirling in you.

//ooc: i luv your writing -pls tell me you have an AO3, I need a link now -- a read more has been made

The very first thing that Skwisgaar does when he finally sees the iconic red dress is to clutch his guitar. He had seen Pickles get called to help wrangle his mother, and he had decided to remain with the empty vodka bottle and the last of the joint. That was hours ago, and he was beginning to build blisters on his calloused fingers from the incessant playing from the paranoia of seeing his mother.

He was sitting down and playing the Duncan Hills Coffee jingle when he heard Serveta talking, and Anja responding back. When they found him, he was still seated on the plush carpeting, plucking away at his Explorer.

The brief 5 minutes in that closet felt like an entire day, and it was Anja that decided to break off the very one-sided conversation with a very obviously shocked and ashamed Skwisgaar. Anja was another stressor on him now considering Toki's own complex ties to the woman.

As much as he loved seeing his mother have a long-term stable friendship finally, it bothered him to no end that it was Anja Wartooth of all people. Toki, his best friend, his closest friend, had literal scars that mapped out her inaction across his skin; perhaps it was just perfect irony that they both found companionship in the other.

Serveta left her own on Skwisgaar.

Serveta was never physically abusive with Skwisgaar. She was emotionally manipulative when his grandmother chastised her, negligent at best of Skwisgaar and herself and verbally abusive if he stepped out of line from the picture perfect child she wanted.

Jag är ledsen, mamma.

How often had those words come out of his mouth, his soul poured out into each syllable only for Serveta to dismiss his words and actions to find another man? How often had she presented him to a new partner, giving him hope that this was going to be his new dad, to be what he craved only for her to crush those dreams again and again?

How often had she caused him to burst into tears?

He took in a shuddering breath, feeling his throat constrict, and blinked to clear his blurry vision.

He was crying.

He dropped his Gibson Explorer and wiped his cheek, and then and again as more kept falling.

He's 35 now, crying because she was crying.

He's 5 again, leaving grandmother's home with a full belly and a good night's rest, the first he's had of both in a while, and he's crying in Serveta's arms as she soothes him after she forgot to pick him up the night before. He's 9 again, coming home to hear Serveta call him her sweetest mistake that ruined everything to one of her 'friends', and he's crying because she told him he was her favorite person and that she loved him. He's 13, walking into his grandmother's home looking to find his mother finishing lunch and instead finding her with 2 men, crying when he's back because he's aching from his fall and he was hungry and tired. He's 17 again, plunging a needle into his arm to ignore the pain of being her son, tears from the high striking him too soon and removing the strap too early. He's 21 and crying because he foolishly reached out to his mother, only to have her tear him apart with vicious words and verbal lashings for running away from her the way he did. He's 23, leaving a rehab center after overdosing again and his flatmates called the ambulance 'for the last time'.

He's 30 and crying because he's absolutely too drunk and high, and Pickles and him are both hot wrecks from the first time their mothers reach out and berate them. He's 33 and he's crying, because his life is falling apart as Toki's book destroys his career and the one person he expected to comfort him, the one person he wanted support from had told him that he wasn't good enough and that's why everything was falling apart around him.

He said he would never make her cry despite her own track record on him. He wouldn't be like the other men who she hopelessly did grow to care for and left her in tears when she inevitably self destructed. He wouldn't stoop to her level and make her cry.

And yet she was, sniffling as she walked away from the disaster that was Skwisgaar Skwigelf.

There was some kind of poetic justice in that he had drawn tears from her for doing what she had to him his whole life - ignored the other, neglecting them and resenting them, considering them a source of stress and anger and blaming them for their problems.

Anja had spared Skwisgaar the sight of his crying mother, but she also spared Serveta from seeing her boy cry. He once again failed her, disappointing not just her but himself. Serveta represented a mirror in the dynamic now, and as he looked at her, he found himself now the realized what he was doing. He even inherited her sex addiction, and it's baffling how quickly his chest feels tight.

She was Miss Sweden, he's a guitar god. She had partners every weekend, and he had partners every night he could. She loved to dress up still and take care of her skin and hair, and what did he just do a few days ago? He had his bi-monthly spa day; his was more necessity than for vanity, but they went hand in hand with his status as Skwisgaar Skwigelf. Not to mention, he's blamed her for a lot of his personal issues and problems, his inability to connect with people, and his issues with poorly hidden addictions like drugs and sex. He's ignored her as best as he could, only doing the bare minimum when she reached out.

He's become the very person he came to resent the most in this world.

This is what makes the first of many more sobs bubble up in the otherwise quiet closet.

[dearrosaceae]

It is almost one week since we sent my sister to her university in another state. She is the first in the family to travel outside of our state for studies so my parents had a different level of worry as compared to when they sent me away.

I've always felt unsettled since she was preparing to further her studies. I get that during the before, during and after period of her venturing to a new path, obviously my parents will prioritize her needs and wants above all else. However deep down, my abandonment issues were broiling, still do. I was cast aside to provide bigger space for her.

I tried to be as empathetic and understanding as I could as I gave them space to sort it out because I knew my presence would not help much. It went on for a month or so, until the day she registered. I helped with what I could, with what I know since we shared the same university but different branches. I still had that feeling but I tried to contain it as much as I could. I did not want to make my parents feel like they had to choose.

After leaving her, I started to feel more... unsettled. My parents had only fixated their attention on her. Keeping up with her orientation, already planning to visit her. I get it, she now lives far away but hey, I'm getting into university too. Next week, in fact. They did ask if I needed anything but they knew not much. I said I needed to buy some groceries and I wanna cook. We haven't planned to buy any groceries yet so is it even gonna happen?

I'm trying to be reflective. Maybe there had been a time where the spotlight had been on me and my siblings just watched me shone. Had there? Maybe they didn't even care that I hog them? My sister did say once that my parents seemed to spoil me but I said otherwise. I believed the context was different though. Our perspectives were not relative to one another.

Then my mind just travelled back to the days when I was still in secondary school. My sister was in the same school as well. We were active, participating in many competitions but we did not run into each other as we partake in different fields. Though, my sister was recognized more as she was athletic. I won numerous awards too, but my parents couldn't even point out one. When I riddled them that and they couldn't answer, I knew they don't give a fuck.

I don't know if it's the same case. I mean, my sister just started her education right? Obviously they are worried about her wellbeing. I don't remember if they were as worried with me when I first started but I don't like it that I'm not given the same amount of attention and affection just because I live near. I'm furthering my education too so what the fuck?

All of these finally erupted when my dad skipped my favor over my sister in the family group chat. I asked him if I could bring the three-tier food trolley with me to my rented house tomorrow so I can store food, but he ignored me and responded to my sister after she said that she wants to skip English lessons by taking an APT exam (she has to pay money to take that exam btw).

I don't care if I sound entitled. I don't care if I sound whiny. I don't care if I sound like a crybaby who is so fucking needy. I had enough of being casted aside.

[occult-roommates]

The landbitch

One night, Charlie got called by the landlady when she dropped the new she was raising the rent again. No, she can't do that! Where's that solidarity between people of the same species? They're both vampire after all.

Charlie: Margrit, please... Margrit: We are not on a first name basis, you will call me Misses Fairchild and nothing else. Charlie: I can't really call you misses considering you're divorced.

Well, Charlie did not help her case at all with that comeback. Great, now she gotta announce that to the other roommates.

To think she used to have pity of that woman. Her story on how she became a vampire is a bit tragic. She was born in what is now modern day Austria in 1884, exactly a century before Charlie, and moved to the States at only 20 to marry a man twice her age. To be fair, it was mostly in a gold digging move. The 1930s rolled around, and she caught him cheating on him with a woman who was born the year they got married. She threatened a divorce, and as revenge he tried killing her by hiring a vampire hitman. The hitman failed to fully suck her blood out and instead turned her into a vampire. Still alive, she got to divorce, but now the Fairchild no longer wanted anything to do with her, and her family back in Austria rejected her for being a vampire. She still had enough divorce money to buy an apartment building in the art district though, and she's been the landlady of the place ever since...Oh and all of that was for nothing, cause the old husband croaked less than a year later.

However, Margrit has long since reached a point where Charlie could no longer feel bad for her.

Charlie: Bad new folks, the rent increased again. Dawud: Are you kidding me? Rudi: Ah for fuck sake, I just got a raise at work! Dawud: Well, personally, and I'm just saying, but I am the only one here with like, a full time job that pays more than 15$ an hour. Like, I know these are though time, but you guys need to step up. Akva: Easy for you to say, you were pretty much given your job when you moved here and got trained for free. My pay is shit but I can't find anything else, and flight school is freaking expensive. Kino: You could ask your new girlfriend to move here. Akva: I don't think she would wanna do that, she has a nice apartment all to herself, unlike us who barely have enough and just forgotten what having a bit privacy is like. I mean, she's a video editor, do we even have space for her desk here? Why don't your girlfriend move here uh? Kino: I broke up with Lilah yesterday. Through text. Charlie: Kino, you can't keep breaking up with people through text! Kino: Why not? And also, we would have more place to sleep if you agreed to share your room too while all five of us plus my baby are cramped in one bedroom. Charlie: Well speaking of baby, you barely take care of him, I'm his main caregiver. Which great, not only are you not arsed to be a parent, but it's an extra financial strain on the household.

Having run out of argument, Kino simply made a random move that was similar to the C part of the YMCA dance. It seemed out of nowhere, but it was because it is the equivalent on Sixam of giving the middle finger.

Rudi: Talking a lot of shit anyway for someone who doesn't have a job. Kino: Well yes, but I'm paid by the government agent who sent me here like...an amount of money I will not disclose. Rudi: Say it! Daniele: STOP FIGHTING PLEASE I DON'T LIKE IT! Akva: Dan, shut up, you literally don't have a job and you were raised rich... Daniele: I do have one, I'm a tailor at my aunt's fashion workshop, but I don't work that often and she doesn't pay me cause we're family. Dawud: That's kind of a dick move on her part actually...Wait when we think about it, your family has well enough money that you don't need to live here, what are you even doing in this apartment? Yes, you were kicked out by your parents, but you also lived with your aunt your entire teenage years. Daniele: My family is rich but I don't have much money to my name and I wanted to leave as soon as I turn 18 but currently I'm wondering if I should not just go back... Charlie: Nobody is gonna move out of this place, we can't afford to lose anyone. If anything, we need a new member! Rudi: We clearly don't have place though, and will the landbitch even let us? Akva: Legally, every household is allowed to have a maximum of eight people, and as long as that maximum hasn't been reached, you cannot deny someone to move under a roof. However, as soon as there's eight people, you cannot accept anyone else, which is why anyone who can get pregnant needs to go on birth control if there's eight people in a household. Also, it's not because you have to allow maximum eight people that every house or apartment is made to accomodate that eight people. Dawud: ...That's messed up what the hell... Kino: Yeah, I don't wanna go on birth control against my will! Charlie: What, so you can get pregnant with another baby you won't take care of? Rudi: The idea of having an extra roommates wouldn't be so bad if you didn't had a fucking private bedroom while the rest of us plus the baby were all sharing the same room!

The roommates kept on arguing, which almost escalated into insults. "Thankfully", their next door neighbor knocked and told them to shut the fuck up, it's almost 11 pm. How was little Joseph even sleeping through that? Silly them, they shouldn't be mad at each other, clearly they should be pissed at Miss Fairchild for putting the rent so hard they need to be seven roommates to make it, and that's not even including basic stuff like food etc...But well, if getting a seven roommates is what it would take, like, they have someone of each species except a fairy so it would be the perfect opportunity to get a fairy under this roof.

And now, for totally unrelated reason, Audrey eating a burger.

Prev - Next

[goddesstrolls]

Lloric slunk into Adderhead, surprised to find the bouncer even let him in, and glad to find the bar was empty apart from Missah.

His sunglasses did very little to hide the fact that he looked like shit, his eyes bloodshot and bagged from lack of sleep, unshaven and having gone without a shower for nights.

His knuckles and face bore the marks of some half-hearted fight. Missah moved to open a bottle of whiskey, and Lloric tossed up a hand to stop her.

“I can’t pay for it.”

Missah deliberated for the briefest of moments and poured him a shot anyway. “It’s on the hive.”

“Celebrating that I lost my fuckin’ job?” Lloric sighed, and downed the shot.

“Speaking of that, Jir wants to talk to you.”

Lloric grimaced and hung his head. After several moments of stewing in his frustration, he growled. “Can’t that asshole just leave me alone?”

Missah said nothing at first, but plucked the glass from Lloric’s hand and poured herself a shot. “Just go get it over with.”

Lloric heaved a sigh, and pushed away from the bar, stalking through the back and upstairs to Adjire’s office.

He knocked on the door, chewing on his tongue as he dreaded what this conversation had in store for him. He was likely getting kicked out of The Fangs entirely.

An unfamiliar voice spoke from the other side. “Come in.”

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Lloric opened the door and stepped in. 

An old troll, his hair long and grey, stood at a side table, shuffling through paperwork. He looked up as Lloric entered.

Lloric stared at him, brow furrowed, for several moments before speaking. “Who the hell are you?”

The older troll smiled. “My name is Runner. I’m taking over Adderhead’s management.” He stepped over to offer Lloric a hand to shake.

Trapped in social convention, Lloric shook his hand but seemed no less confused. “What happened to Jir?”

“Ah. I see you didn’t hear. Jir was... Dealt with. Did you need something from him?”

“Missah told me he wanted to talk to me.”

“Hmm. Are you one of the fighters?” Runner tilted his head, as though sizing Lloric up.

“...I was. Jir took me off the roster.”

“Did he now? What’s your name?” Runner was moving towards a safe in the wall, that had previously been hidden under a painting.

“Wolf.”

“Ah, Wolf! Our Champion. I hear you’ve done well for Adderhead here.” Runner said as he opened up the safe and began rummaging through it.

“Was.” Lloric grumbled. “And that’s not what Jir said.”

“Jir did not go through with any of the formalities of removing you from the roster, nor did he have any good reason to do so. As far as I’m concerned, you still hold your title in the ring.”

Runner pulled a large envelope from the safe, and handed it to Lloric. He turned it over in his hands, noting ‘Black Wolf’ marked on it, before opening it.

Inside was a clipped bundle of cash and a few papers. At a glance, the amount looked to be more than ten grand.

Lloric stared at it in dead silence, trying to process why he was just handed what he considered to be an absurd amount of money.

“Jir’s dues to you.” Runner said, after giving Lloric a moment. “For all the sweeps you held your title of Champion, your earnings should have been doubled. On top of that, Jir took a 35% commission of all the fighter’s earnings, as opposed to the 20% maximum that the Numbers established. I also understand he was collecting rent from you for your parlor space in the tunnels, and forcing you to do tattoo work for free.”

Lloric still did not take his gaze off the money in the envelope.

“Where’s Jir,” he said finally, still not looking up.

“He caused a scene in the bar, as I understand it, and the patrons did not take kindly to the revelation of his true colors. He’s dead, son.”

Lloric finally closed the envelope, and looked up. “Wish I was there to kick his teeth in myself.”

Runner smirked at that. “I’m sure many others feel the same. By the way, fights will resume as normal on the fifteenth next perigee, I take it you’ll be ready to fight again by then?”

“Yeah. I should be. Uh... Did you need anything else from me.”

“Nope. You’re free to go.” Runner smiled.

Lloric nodded, and turned to leave. “Thanks.”

He returned to the bar and sat down, plunking the fat envelope on the counter. Missah stared, waiting for him to say how his talk went.

“Well,” he said finally. “I can pay for my drink now.”

Missah raised her brows, entirely unsurprised. “Yeah?”

Lloric simply gestured to the envelope, which she picked up.

“I don’t even know how much is in there.” He said.

Missah pulled out the wad of cash, and rapidly began counting it. “Enough to buy a hive,” she said as she counted. “A shitty one, at least.”

She packed up the bundle again, and returned it to the envelope before handing it back to Lloric. He grinned at her as he took it- Looking more hopeful than she’d seen him in sweeps.

[philomenas-stuff]

Between the hotel and a hard place

So - writing fanfic becomes addictive.

Their lives had been turned completely upside down, but getting the sex thing out of the way was the least of their worries.

For a start, Sakari had nowhere to live, and it would likely be several months before the damage to his apartment would be repaired. The insurance company would pay for alternative accommodation, so he was supposed to be looking for somewhere to rent. In the meantime he had taken up residence in Henna’s old room in Sofia’s apartment, though that wasn’t very satisfactory, as the pipe works were still a week or two from completion.

Sofia’s priority was to create some stability in Emil’s life, which apart from anything else would entail some difficult negotiations with child protection services. She had also been anxious for Emil’s grandpa, but he had been adamant that he wanted to go home on his release from hospital, so there had been work to do to arrange an appropriate care package in order that he could maintain his independence. Sakke wanted to look into the options for taking care of Leo, but as a single man of no fixed abode, he’d had to leave it on the back burner for the time being.

And they had the day jobs to consider. They knew they had already been the subject of office gossip even when there had been nothing going on between them. JP had been rolling eyes forever at the amount of time they spent together, and even Rautamaa had started to pass the odd shrewdly barbed comment. A workplace fling might be tolerated for a short time, but if they embarked on a more serious relationship, they would not be allowed to work together.

There was no ’if’ about it, however, for they had reached an understanding the night of the shooting, and there would be no going back. It was just a question of when and how. Their dilemma was that they had so little time and no private space in which to give rein to their feelings for each other. They certainly weren’t about to get it on with Sofia’s son watching from the wings.

At least Emil had been cool with their current arrangement, though like most boys of his age he considered too much smooching and kissing pretty gross, and told them so. Sofia did however have an interesting exchange with her son one morning, in which he’d told her he was glad she and Sakke had got back together.

”What do you mean, back together?”, she’d asked.

”Well, when you were dating before you got pretty miserable after he arrested Henna”.

”We were never dating before”.

Her son gave her some side-eye. ”Oh come on, mum. He was always round here, or we’d stay over at his place. You just didn’t want me to know he was your boyfriend”.

“Out of the mouth of babes”, Sakke had laughed when she relayed the conversation to him. “It’s from the Psalms of David”, he added, as if she really needed to know. “Looks like we were the only people in Helsinki who were oblivious to it”.

They were sitting in the car down by the old quay, still the only place they had to themselves.

“On the subject of ‘it’”, said Sofia. “What are we going to do”?

“Well. We could sit here and talk about it. Or we could drive to Ronnvik and find a motel. Or we could wait till dark and climb into the back seat, and you know…”, he raised an eyebrow as he smirked at her.

“That’s not funny”, she replied, quite crossly. “We can’t go on putting it off. We might find we’re not compatible”.

He had the grace to look shocked. Surely she couldn’t mean that? “Or we could go back to my new little love nest”, he offered, as if he’d only just thought of it. “We have a few hours before we need to be anywhere else”.

“You found somewhere?” Her eyes opened wide in surprise.

“Mmhh”.

“You’re on. Go”.

By the time they’d parked the car and walked hand-in-hand up to the new apartment, they were both as nervous as kittens. Like teenagers sneaking home while their parents were out. They stopped by the door to kiss, neither of them able to speak.

Although he’d only had the keys a few days, Sakke had already made the tiny studio flat quite cosy. A gleaming new coffee machine (of course); soft lighting; and fresh linen on the bed.

They kicked off their boots and removed their coats, looking at each other in anticipation, wondering which of them would make the first move.

“Come here”, he said, and pulled her in for a hug. “If we’d done this a couple of years ago I’d have been pinning you against the wall and ripping your clothes off with my teeth”.

Sofia laughed softly, looking up at him. “What’s stopping you now?”, she whispered, reaching for his belt.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her firmly on the lips. “Can we take things slowly? If it turns out we’re not compatible”, his eyes danced at her, “this might be my one chance. l want to be able to remember every moment.”

And so the deed was done: slowly and tenderly, and punctuated with soft murmurs as mouths and fingers explored uncharted territories, each whispering encouragement to the other, seeking out the rhythm that would make them whole, and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Sated, they lay in a happy tangle of limbs, suffused in a heady mix of endorphins, oxytocin, and more than a little sweat; and feeling rather pleased with themselves.

“True plain hearts”,” he said in English, his voice husky, his fingers tracing a line across her lips, along her jaw, and down to the notch in her collar bone, where he planted another kiss.

“What’s that?”, she asked. “It sounds a bit poetic”.

“Spot on”, he smiled. “John Donne. He was an English poet from the late sixteenth century. Not many people have written more honestly about love and sex”.

“You never cease to astonish me, Sakari Nurmi. I never had you down as a romantic soul. Or have you just been hiding it behind that tough old shell?”. Sofia tapped her knuckles playfully on his pecs.

“Mmphh. Careful. It’s not so tough”.

“Seriously, Sakke. I love you, and I think I know you quite well. Then suddenly you drop another bombshell, and I’m thinking I don’t know this man at all. Sometimes..”, she heaved her shoulders, searching for the words, “sometimes you scare me.”

He pulled her towards him, looking her square in the eye. “I’m quoting you the finest love poetry ever written, and I scare you?”

“Don’t schmooze me, Sakari Nurmi. Why didn’t you go to medical school?”

Now who was dropping bombshells, he thought. That was the trouble with Sofia: her aim was straight and true, and she always went for the jugular.

He sighed. “I didn’t know who I was and I couldn’t face the commitment. Six years of trying to live up to other people’s expectations”.

Sofia nodded slowly, for it was a perfectly reasonable explanation, and one she could relate to. “Do you know who you are now?”

A shadow flickered across his eyes, but he willed it away, quickly. “You scare me, Sofia. This scares me”.

She took his hand, entwining his fingers in hers, safe and reassuring. “There are two of us now”.

To be continued. But have some John Donne first.

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I

Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?

But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?

Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den?

’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.

If ever any beauty I did see,

Which I desired, and got, ��twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,

Which watch not one another out of fear;

For love, all love of other sights controls,

And makes one little room an everywhere.

Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,

Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,

Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,

And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;

Where can we find two better hemispheres,

Without sharp north, without declining west?

Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;

If our two loves be one, or, thou and I

Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

[indefatigablepaths]

Lil Debbie Bitches Clinton Sparks Remix 1 hour loop

Ok. I'm doing this. While I get all nippy, and I speak. I bark I bite. I do all those things because I have to. These things happen. Oh, and now we wan'na talk.

Ok. I'm not done with this, but they did find - a little - more money. The money doesn't matter inside the system, ok.

This talk is all a scene, more money. Every building in the country, and every job - while you're inside. That runs on a percentage.

I think they call the money fraud official wise a COLA percentage. They just say 30 percent all more money ever given out is still mine forever.

The system literally just plays pretend and hands itself more money. Except it uses little people.

So the system has never had an inflation adjustment for citizens one time. In all of history.

Before my history I can't even find a document.

0 dollars

I am leaving the system because of complete corruption.

That means maybe like 9 million new homeless people by next month.

You can't even pretend to live on this much money without special training.

My favorite song from A Perfect Circle is Blue.

I don't dictate the rules of a dream. I just don't die. Despite your dreams.

I told you they had a ghost army on ghost ships.

Ya. I think you can buy your tax returns back, from online too. I've worked here my entire life.

Ya. I had to get so high to do this. I had to get fired from my job probably forever.

The guy with the hair. Why is she standing with Summer in that house.

No.

I had to take the maximum amount of adjustments to my bills, next month. Or I would have bailed early.

Every time I contact the new land lord I get the same story.

500 apartments in this city. You go next door.

The property line is supposed to matter.

Although I never knew how that feels in strip malls or parking lots, complex buildings. I used to think about it a lot. I'm also barred by Summer there anyways. I can't do that.

Do you really think you can't grow algae in some storage shed that doesn't even afford one power outlet?

No one believes you can get picked up for property lines in a cab.

I think you're really in the wrong business if you think you can argue about what I do with my keys.

Yeah I got so mad about this. I started thinking Id go all guerilla and flush it down porta toilets.

Do you really think a bottle across a city is gonna hit me for algae?

I haven't used a garbage truck for five months.

Ya. I can't even pay my rent. She is a bundle of nerves that swerve. I would crash my plane.

You know the projects stay broken forever. As far as I know. You can't fix the bathroom. You can't fix your room. That space is illegal property.

Ya he thinks that's funny. He's not living.

An hour with you is almost up and the police had to knock on my door.

See I'm not asking anyone. Wasn't that Metallica.

I ask no one. That's a joke.

You all go insane all the time. Days, weeks whatever. You keep telling me the internet is illegal.

I'm being told again this is the way things will be. I've snapped out of this every other time.

Getting caught up in a psycho imagination.

Though I do see the mind needs time to rearrange itself. Not sure where the mind thinks it believes itself.

If you don't go completely green the rats will eat your internet connection. Like it was food.

As far as I see this is an order. So feel free to tell me it's not. What. You said. I can't tell you it's not an order.

They keep sweeping these buildings. I'm still waiting to see if they sweep regular apartments.

If I don't let these "people" stay crazy and eat all our time. I can't find the documents they forget.

Judas is who the police think they are.

Whiz Khalifa was trying to make this clear that there's no circumstance where a land lord can enter my room.

I already met Mark Horvath from invisible people. They were so blind at the other property they are starting to think I was watching someone who thought they were you.

[lastoneout]

Sorry to hijack your post OP but people in the tags were saying "well it says Zelda's house on the sign ect." and I just wanted to tackle all that because this assumption is a HUGE pet peeve of mine.

'Cuz like, from what I recall Zelda evicting Link is what most people assumed, but imo that's also the most bad-faith read on the situation imaginable, and is directly contrary to Zelda's established personality. There are so many other reasons why the house could have transferred ownership that are in line with both Zelda and Link's characterization and also how the world seems to work, jumping to the most extreme one that paints her as a selfish asshole is ridiculous.

BotW/TotK Zelda is not selfish. She is a little arrogant and rude, but she's under a hellish amount of pressure and that's only at the beginning of the story, by the end she absolutely respects and values Link as her equal, and based on subtext(that's basically text) she's clearly developed some sort of deeper feelings for him. This Zelda would never storm into anyone's house and demand they move out and give her full ownership of the building, let alone Link's house. I genuinely do not understand how anyone who is actually paying attention to the story could come to that conclusion unless they just really do not like Zelda.

Every character we talk to in TotK who has met Zelda talks about how selfless and kind she is. How she helps people with their problems, loves learning and sharing new information, sets up sanctuaries for rare animals, contracts Hudson Construction to leave free building materials around for people who need them, puts up monuments to everyone lost in the Calamity, builds a school for the children of Hateno Village, makes a new tunic for Link as a gift, and never acts like she's better than her subjects. There is nothing in the text that points to Zelda being the kind of self-important careless jerk who would steal someone's house.

My personal assumption was that Zelda has an image to uphold. She's trying to rebuild an entire country, how people view her is important, and the people in Hateno Village are clearly ALL up in her business like 24/7. Plus, from what I recall, the sensibilities of this world are still a bit old fashioned. Zelda isn't married, so I can kinda imagine that the villagers would think it a bit improper/weird that the Princess(and future Queen) of Hyrule is living with a man. Especially her sworn knight. And yes times have changed, but to the rest of the world they have a very specific kind of relationship and I figure them showing up and saying "yep we're together and living in the same one-room house completely unsupervised and we're not even married dwbi" would raise a few eyebrows. There's only one bed in the house, and based on that and the fact that in the game you can only sleep in beds Link "owns" or is renting, and you can indeed sleep in this bed, I think they're both sleeping there. Based on all that I think the most logical conclusion is that they are living together, but to save face Zelda and Link pretend it's her house, even though it technically isn't.

(And that could also account for the decorations being gone, if people come over and the place doesn't look like Zelda's house they are going to make assumptions. Even then, the most important belonging of Link's, the photo from BotW's DLC, is still up. Yes, Zelda probably has emotional attachment to that picture as well, but leaving it up could also be a sign she still values Link's having a say in how their shared living space is decorated, as he's the one who displayed it in the first place.)

The other possibility is that Link gave her the house without her asking. Link takes his job as Zelda's sworn knight VERY seriously. He's shown to be incredibly devoted to her, and she just spent 100 years trapped in a hell dimension holding back the embodiment of all evil. Wouldn't it be nice for her to have a safe place to call her own? Somewhere remote that isn't under as much scrutiny? Where she can close the doors and relax and not have to be the Princess and Reincarnated Goddess for five minutes? Somewhere with no visual reminders of violence? I can absolutely see Link giving her the house, or at least telling her she can call it her house and have some control over the way it looks, and even taking the weapon plaques down of his own volition and replacing them with peaceful pictures of Hyrule so she isn't thinking about fighting while she's resting. Like there's no way Zelda doesn't have C-PTSD from all the shit she's been through, she's seen enough violence, taking the weapons down makes sense.

It could also be a misunderstanding. I love the idea of Zelda trying to broach the topic of their relationship by talking about them living together, hint hint wink wink, only for Link, who doesn't have an off switch and would do anything for her to be like "oh you can have this house dw I'll sleep in the shed" to Zelda's immense disappointment. It could just be a miscommunication that Zelda doesn't know how to correct.

The villagers could have also assumed it's Zelda's house, and that misunderstanding also blew up to the point that it's just impossible to correct. We don't even know if Zelda is the one that put up the sign saying it's her house. The villagers could have done that without talking to her about it. Maybe they made the sign to make her feel more welcome and just didn't think that adding Link's name was important. She's not gonna turn down or complain about a thoughtful gift from her subjects.

Link also isn't a glory hound. He specifically has talked about how being in the spotlight stresses him out to the point that he can't even speak most of the time, and the people in Hyrule continuously assume he isn't the Hero because he's short or weird or whatever. I can think of multiple interactions in BotW and TotK where people just refuse to believe Link is who he says he is even when he's bluntly telling them exactly who he is and HOLDING THE DAMN MASTER SWORD TO BOOT. Maybe he just doesn't care if people think it's Zelda's house, or he even prefers it that way because it means people aren't paying as much attention to him.

Also, while it's obvious that Zelda doesn't feel that way, he is her knight. Sharing her spotlight isn't really...appropriate based on the etiquette of the royalty. He is important, but still below her. He's her shadow, not her equal, and he's meant to sacrifice his own comfort for hers. If there's one bed, Zelda gets it. If they're camping and Zelda is sleeping, Link is keeping watch. If there's only enough food for one person, Zelda gets it. Link is a hero and a knight, but Zelda is royalty and a goddess. If Zelda is in danger, Link saves her, even at the cost of his own life. He literally dies for her in BotW. That's how this works. Even if Zelda herself would disagree, WHICH SHE WOULD, bcs she clearly loves Link and views him as her equal, if not her better.

There are tons of reasons why the house could be thought of as Zelda's that don't involve willfully and blatantly mischaracterizing her as a selfish asshole who kicked Link out of his own home and makes him sleep in the damn shed just because she wants a house. Zelda is the opposite of selfish, she gives up everything multiple times just to save Hyrule. She weeps over her fallen friends because she couldn't protect them from Gannon. She hates herself for not being able to communicate with the Goddess, spending hours and hours praying on cold hard stone or in freezing water wearing a dress she hates because she knows what's on the line. She writes in her diary about how she was unfair to Link because she was jealous and how she just wants to get to know him and apologize for treating him so poorly when he didn't do anything wrong. Urbosa literally talks about how Zelda is essentially killing herself to try to save everyone and how unfair that is to her, like Urbosa is one of the few people who actually treats Zelda like the scared, abused, miserable teenager she is who desperately needs time to just exist without people worshiping the ground she walks on or expecting her to nearly kill herself to awaken her powers. The other Champions also recognize how much she's doing and how awful it is that this is all on her shoulders.

Even Zelda's father recognizes how badly he fucked up by treating her the way he did when all she ever did was try to help.

Hell, in TotK she essentially commits a sin to save Hyrule, one she believes will permanently separate her from everyone she knows and loves, and lives for thousands of years as a dragon. You literally BREAK PIECES OF HER SCALES AND TEETH AND CLAWS OFF OF HER to upgrade your armor. She is legit sacrificing her life, mind, her soul, her entire body to help Link and the people of Hyrule.

Say what you want about BotW/TotK Zelda, but she is the opposite of selfish. She would never walk into Link's home, claim it for herself, and kick him out. If you think she would, again, you must already dislike her/aren't paying attention because her doing this would be contrary to every single piece of characterization we are shown in both games. There are DOZENS of reasons the house could have transferred ownership, or appear to have transferred ownership, and the fact that people immediately assume that Zelda was an asshole about it is sus as hell. Legit blaming a female character for something she never did that goes against everything we know about her. If you don't like Zelda that's fine, I won't tell you you're wrong, but at least hate her in an accurate way. This is like a level 4 headcanon moment. You just made that shit up. It isn't supported by the text or world-building or characterization.

Anyway end rant, sorry again OP but I love Zelda and BotW/TotK and this shit just pisses me off SO bad.

remember when totk came out and people realized that zelda was living in link’s house but instead of her moving in with him, which is the obvious answer that nintendo handed to us on a silver platter, they legitimately believed that she just evicted him

[sarcazious-jimes]

Frank Davis Atkins

Davis was a beautiful human being.  The dude almost glowed.  He came from money and, at one point, used some of his to try to make my life better.  He gave me money for my family to live in Santa Barbara and “only work on music.”  I was able to rent a house with enough space for us to build a dedicated practice room.  He bought musical instruments and sound equipment.  He bought a house in Montecito with a professional studio in the barn on the property.  He paid to have us record an album with the engineer, Sjoerd Koppert.  (He’s a different story all together.) It was the most “success” I had ever had monetarily when it came to music.  It was an incredibly surreal and joyous part of my music career.  

He was somewhat of a visionary.  He tried to create several different dating websites before anything like that even existed.  He seemed ambitious to make the world more like he wanted the world to be.  He seemed to have a clear vision of the power of social media before it was even called that.  I wanted to be a part of whatever he was doing because it seemed to be an alternate way of achieving my goals of being an artist.  I didn’t like “the normal way“ of doing things either.   

Davis was also mentally ill.  Schizophrenia I believe.  He once told me that part of his illness included thinking that every attractive woman he would meet, was once a man.  He was on Federal Probation for threatening to kill Ross Perot during one of his episodes.  He was not allowed to leave the country.  He joked about it when he was “clear.”  That is how I first got to know Davis.  He was aware that he had a mental illness and needed to manage it with medication.  I had no reason to believe he would ever act any differently. 

Just a few weeks later, during the recording of the GuggaQwan album I saw what “differently” looked like.  Davis stopped taking his prescribed medications and started smoking an insane amount of pot.  I had never seen anything like it.  But... It was almost like the more pot he smoked...the more normal he became.  I was amazed more than I was concerned at that time.

It only took about 2 months for the wheels to completely fall off.  

One day...out of the blue...his schizophrenia told him that he needed to go/run to Mexico...while on Federal Probation...with a Probation Officer that he needed to report to weekly...or he would go to jail.  He stayed in Mexico for about 3 weeks and upon his return, it was obvious that Davis was in need of professional help to get back on track.  I can’t remember if he actually had to go to jail, but long story short... He ended up needing to sell the house and studio.  Eventually, he stayed in a sober living facility in LA for a while.  That was the last time that I actually got to speak with him.  He was still talking about the music and getting it out there for the people to hear.  The band had broken up, my relationship with my daughter’s mother had broken up, and I moved back east to NYC. (Which is ANOTHER story all together.) I appreciated his continued interest, but I remember telling him that I thought it was over.  He kind of shrugged it off and told me he was going to keep trying anyway.  We kept in touch on Facebook over the years and would wish each other Happy Birthday when Facebook told us too. 

Today I learned that he died this past December at only 49 years of age in Idaho, his home state.  I wished him, Happy 50th Birthday on Facebook in March without knowing he was gone.  I don’t want to assume anything....but I do.  That 50 year mark really seems to do a number on people.  He tried to help me succeed with my music.   He held on to the belief that it was something worth putting out for people to hear for a long time after I had given up on that particular batch of songs.  I had always hoped that, one day, I would be able to pay him back for his belief in me.  Now it’s too late. 

Rest in peace FDA.  Thank you.