#i need to stop hatching everything its like an addiction

[nezz-cringe-crib]

CHAT I AM NOT NORMAL ABOUT @bazpango's HOCKEY AU YOU HAVE TO READ IT GUYS

PLEASE I NEED PEOPLE TO RAMBLE ABOUT IT WITH IT'S CONSUMING ME ACTUALLY (blown up pics underneath)

and the full scene bc guys guys guys you have to read it guys look hockey people i dont know anything about hockey i had to research so many references for this but guysguysguys

[deantransgressions2]

4x21 when the levee breaks

this is a long one. enjoy.

#1: sam asked dean repeatedly to be let out of the panic room so he can explain. dean said no. instead he chose to continue to keep sam locked up against his will.

time tag: 1:10

#2: “you lied to me over, and over again. i get it now” (dean to sam).

here he is acknowledging sam has a serious addiction. he doesn’t fucking care though! because instead of treating sam like an addict, he is treating him like a monster.

time tag: 1:36

#3: “strong? this is about as far away from strong as you can get. try weak. desperate. pathetic.”

.... he is an ADDICT. quick google search will tell you that you should never blame the addict, or insult them. dean has never been able to see things from other’s perspectives, and this is a perfect fucking example of that. calling your brother, who has a drug addiction, pathetic and weak....makes me sick.

time tag: 1:55

#4: “oh lilith is going to die. bobby and i will kill her, and not with you” (said to sam).

idiot. dean couldn’t even kill alastair. hell, the angels couldn’t even kill alastair. and lilith is known to be stronger. dean has lost his mind.

time tag: 2:07

#5: “congrats sammy. you just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the apocalypse”.

okay a couple things, 1. sam didn’t buy shit, dean is forcing him to sit this one out. and 2. dean wants to kill lilith? cool. glad we are all acknowledging that no one knows the consequences of that yet.

time tag: 2:15

#6: shuts the hatch again and leaves to just go back upstairs while sam is screaming for dean to let him out. he not only left sam to detox alone in a locked metal cage. but now he is also leaving the basement so he won’t have to hear his screams? obviously doesn’t care about sam’s wellbeing at. all. it’s so fucked up.

time tag: 2:32

#7: “no one knows how long it will take. hell, or if sam will even live through it” (bobby to dean). dean and bobby do nothing.

time tag: 5:19

#8: “so what? we sacrifice sam’s life, his soul, for the greater good?” (said to bobby, after bobby suggested letting sam help with the apocalypse)

.....bold of dean to act like he cares about sam’s life. his brother is dying downstairs, and dean chilling with bobby upstairs. cute.

time tag: 8:45

#9: sam is too ill to walk across the panic room to get a glass of water. maybe if his “loving” brother was in there with him, that wouldn’t of been a problem.

time tag: 9:47

#10: “you got ass-reamed in heaven, but it was not of import?” (said to cas)

time tag: 14:02

#11: “can he do it? kill lilith? stop the apocalypse?” (said to cas)

oh? dean also believes killing lilith will stop the apocalypse? good to know. won’t matter though, because he’s gonna pretend he didn’t come 5x01.

time tag: 14:20

#12: “we believe it’s you dean, not your brother.” (cas to dean, about killing lilith)

we all know cas was lying, angels knew dean couldn’t do shit about lilith. but the words cas uses are similar to the ones ruby says to sam. dean is being manipulated into thinking HE can kill lilith “the right way” and if sam tries to kill lilith, then he will become a “creature you would feel compelled to kill” (cas to dean). point is, if dean was fully prepared to have the angels use him to kill lilith, then shouldn’t he have understood sam sacrificing himself to kill lilith?

time tag: 14:35

#13: the way the light was hitting him made him look so ugly for a second. looked 85 at best. he deserved to look ugly. best part of the episode.

time tag: 15:40

#14: strapped sam down to the bed. now he has zero access to water, or a toilet. smart.

time tag: 19:23

#15: bobby: “if he doesn’t get what he needs soon, sam’s not gonna last much longer”

dean: ”no. i’m not giving him demon blood. i won’t do it.”

bobby: “and if he dies?”

dean: “then at least he died human!”

dean doesn’t give a flying fuck about sam as a person. he would rather let his brother die, ALONE, just so he dies “human”.....sam hasn’t been 100% human since novemeber 2nd 1983. and ever since dean found this out in 4x03, he has treated sam as less than. he can act like he cares for his brother all he wants, but it’s obvious he fucking doesn’t.

time tag: 20:50

#16: “i won’t let my brother turn into a monster” (said to bobby)

....what kind of “monster” kills demons for the greater good. what kind dean? you let me know.

time tag: 22:27

#17: both dean and bobby think ruby got sam out of the panic room. ok. dumb. but ok.

time tag: 28:07

#18: “i am on call, in my car, on my way to murder the bitch” (said to bobby, about ruby)

time tag: 28:44

#19: ruby: “i had no idea that dean would do that to you”

sam: “you and me both”

thats just....sad. to trust your brother so completely your entire life, and then for him to do that to you....its fucked.

time tag: 30:00

#20: “us finding sam? that’s got to be about getting him back, not pushing him away” (bobby to dean).

dean didn’t fucking listen to a word bobby said.

time tag: 35:52

#21: tried to murder ruby again. as far as dean knows, ruby is also trying to kill lilith for the right reasons just let everyone else. i get he’s mad about the demon blood, but that’s sam’s friend, it’s his call to make. if sam wants to continue his addiction thats HIS choice. the addiction affects dean in 0 ways. therefore, he gets no say in the matter whatsoever.

time tag: 36:32

#22: sam: “let’s just talk about this”

dean: “soon as she’s dead (ruby), we can talk all you want”

why is he giving conditions? just talk to your fucking brother.

time tag: 37:18

#23: “i just want you to be okay” (said to sam) oh? is that why you left him alone to die in an underground metal room?

time tag: 37:53

#24: “come with us, dean. we can do this together” (sam to dean)

let’s remember sam said this. because dean is gonna act like he didn’t

time tag: 38:11

#25: “demon bitch is a deal breaker”

why are there always conditions with dean? like everything always has to go his way. god forbid anyone objects.

time tag: 38:20

#26: sam: “i’m the only one that can do this dean” dean disagrees. he thinks he is.....he thinks that because the angels are manipulating him. two manipulated boys standing in a room f-i-g-h-t-i-n-g.

time tag: 38:38

#27: dean: “you’re not gonna do a single damn thing”

sam: “stop bossing me around, dean!”

time tag: 38:59

#28: sam: “my whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and i trust you, because you are my brother. now, i’m asking you, for once...trust me”

dean: “no.”

so sam trusts his brother, solely because he’s his brother, yet dean won’t trust sam because???? idk he’s too tall maybe.

time tag: 39:11

#29: “it’s not something that you’re doing, it’s what you are!” (said to sam). 

proof that dean only cares if sam is human, and not who sam actually is as a person. he started treating sam differently the day he found out what azazel did to him, and he has treated him with the same apprehension and disdain ever since. 

time tag: 39:35

#30: “it means you’re a monster” (said to sam).

time tag: 39:58

#31: sam punched dean. dean fights back. based on EVERYTHING dean has done to him, i’m gonna go ahead and say that sam punching him is completely justified. now dean deciding to beat the shit out of him....not justified. sam did nothing to deserve that. he literally just made a friend without dean’s permission, and got high. none of which, affected dean.

time tag: 40:05

#32: “you walk out that door...don’t you ever come back” (said to sam)

same words john used. cute dean. like father like son

time tag: 41:46

[medeafive]

Blood and Stone - 26

Masterpost

(For trigger warnings, please see the AO3 chapter end notes!)

She sleeps most of the time and when she doesn't, she eats raw amounts of increasingly bloody meat. Or maybe she can just tell better, keener sense of smell, the damp wood, smoking fire, the lifeless meat, the pines- She only gets up to pee, once a day at best, everything out of whack, draining somewhere , and it's not clear how long this can go, where she can keep getting the energy for this, how close she is to-

Bobbi monitors her closely. The baby starts kicking so hard Natasha gets stretch marks across her whole belly, not towards the edges but right over her belly button, and the next time the skin starts tearing, drops of blood squeezed out, delicious fresh blood, her own- This can't go on. She's afraid every waking hour that the baby will break through. It's visceral and inevitable, the final worsening of the symptoms of a fatal disease. Her body is not built for this. She's merely the instrument, the host, dispensable. The ruined carcass her monster baby will crawl out of into a world full of vampires, full of death, full of despair. And then it will either have horrible things done to it or do horrible things itself.

She hears them talk about her, too weak to respond. Maria is not one to mince words. "Why would you fuck a vampire, though? I mean, seriously."

"Yeah, no, I know. But I think she really… likes him."

"Well, that's stupid."

"I met him, though. And… I don't know, I don't fully trust him but- I don't think he's aware."

"He's a vampire . One of the monsters you hunt. Don't tell me he's not aware ."

"Biology, I guess. It's weird. But I think she'll see that sooner rather than later."

"Oh, let's hope so. It's sick."

"That's obvious. Let's just get her through it, and then we'll deal with that."

  She can barely think. She wakes and everything is white. Voices. Noises. Is she- She's still lying down, just not on the couch. It's awfully bright, electric. She'd say she's dead if she did still believe in heaven and hell and an afterlife that doesn't involve fangs.

"Why don't you just cut it out?"

The other voice is closer. "Might, actually. Do you have, for stitches- yeah, thanks."

"Seriously. It'll kill her."

"She wanted to keep it."

"You know it's a vampire spawn."

"I promised her."

"Who cares. Save her the pain."

This is far beyond. "What?" she tries to croak out.

"Natasha," Bobbi's voice says. "It has teeth."

  She can barely stay conscious. Her body has ossified, painfully, she can't even keep track of it. One long hard piece. She'll snap and break, be broken. Dry like leaves.

"The blood loss could seriously tip her over."

"Isn't that what you have the miracle cure for?"

"It might not be fast enough."

"Well, give it to her now then."

"Get the suitcase. Just in case."

Thumping steps.

"Natasha? Can you hear me?"

She tries but her bone cocoon cannot be moved. "Your blood pressure took a dive. I think there's damage to your kidney..."

  She can barely breathe. The words hardly reach her. Her cocoon is thick and heavy, completely enveloping her, slowly crushing her within. It's quiet and stifling, background thumping, her rattling breath louder than anything.

“...make it…”

“...moving…”

“...too much!”

“...sedate…”

“...not going to risk…”

“...that…”

“...happening…”

  The birth itself goes remarkably easily, as she is later told.

  She wakes an eternity later, and everything is still awfully bright.

The walls are white, the ceiling is white, her bed is white. There are white machines all around. She’s on a drip, as she’s been forever now, her arm riddled with fresh scars like one of a drug addict. Maria is leaning against a white cupboard, arms crossed, face closed off.

Natasha sits up easily. “What-”

“Cesarean section,” Maria replies. “Barbara gave you a lot of the crazy juice. It’s already healed.”

Natasha blinks, then pulls up the gown. There’s a scar from left to right, horizontally, on her abdomen, crossed with a smaller vertical scar at the center, ending below her belly button. Her belly is not where it was before she got pregnant but it’s already receded, and she panics like something’s missing, like she forgot something, a bag or- “Barbara said if you can get up, you should get up,” Maria adds. “She’s upstairs.”

They’re in the basement, the cellar. The cellar is a lab, that’s why everything is white. Sterile. “Did I bleed?” Natasha asks.

“Not until Barbara cut you open,” Maria replies simply. “It was in the middle of the day. We had it all patched up until sundown.”

She swings her legs off the bed, feeling so much lighter. Moving is easy to a degree she hardly remembers. The air doesn’t even feel cold. The stretch to her belly is gone, leaving some flabbiness and a lot of freedom of movement. “So it’s all good?”

“Well,” Maria remarks, removing the needle. “Almost.”

Natasha blinks. She’s forgetting something. “The-”

“It’s alive,” Maria says, handing her a glass of water. “Well, I’m not sure that’s the right word.”

She drinks slowly, so used to being careful with the swallowing because coughing is so exhausting. But she's still alive. Despite the- everything. Despite all of this shit. "Can I see it?"

"If you really want." Maria shakes her head.

She must think Natasha's crazy, with the vampire, the baby, the- sick. Did they say that? It feels so visceral. Like it makes her less than human, all this shit, the- She suddenly doesn't want it anymore, any part of it. She's tired, tired of everything, where she ended up. She wants them not to look at her with disgust anymore. She wants it to end.

She finishes the glass, head empty. Maria always studies her like she's crazy and dumb and cannot be trusted. Then Natasha gets up mechanically, the first time in forever she doesn't need help. She feels stronger and empty at the same time. Was it really worth it? Becoming this shell of a human just to survive? Give up her humanity to be strong enough to take on the monsters? What kind of a fool would think birthing a monster would bring her back any part of herself that's already long dead and buried?

Doesn't matter now. There's a door on one wall, of course also white. She opens it herself, gripping the handle. The next room is dark and only has the creaky wooden staircase. She holds her hands out to grip the grained wood. Maria follows her slowly, quietly. The staircase has a steep climb yet it doesn't exhaust her at all. She pushes the hatch open.

Upstairs is lit by candles, wooden shutters closed. Bobbi is standing by the cupboards, turning when the hatch opens, bundle of blankets in her arms. "Oh. You're up."

Natasha doesn't really know what to say to that, inching closer. There's a plate with strips of meat on the counter, strong smell. Bobbi rocks the bundle gently. "Everything alright? Your belly looked good already, half-healed."

"Yes," Natasha replies, coming to a stop. "It's healed."

Pale skin peaks out of the bundle. Bobbi nods, grabbing a strip of meat and feeding it to- A wave of sickness comes over Natasha.

God. Why did she do this?

The- the thing swallows the meat quickly, she can hear it chew and slurp. She suddenly doesn't want anything to do with this anymore. She wants to turn around and run away, go back to fighting monsters, not- not creating them, go back to being herself , whoever that is, fight and kill-

Bobbi wipes her fingers on the blanket and turns slightly so Natasha can see the blank face, the fat smeared around its mouth, the teeth, almost fangs, the empty dark eyes- Clint was right, James was right, they were all right, how could she ever believe to bring something good into the world when she's becoming every day more like the monsters infesting it, when she's so obviously beyond repair or redemption, a broken shell of a human that just pretends to feel, to believe, to dream - "Do you want to hold it?"

She's staring at the blank child-like face of the abomination like into a mirror, the unmistakable proof of what she has turned into. She has blurred all the lines, lost everything she claimed to hold dear, drenched her ledger in red. There's no way back. The world is holding a mirror to her face, a mirror of her own flesh and blood, and for once, she cannot look away.

Bobbi steps closer, pressing the blanketed abomination into her arms, checking that she has a solid hold on it. "There. It's a girl."

It's a monster, unmistakable from the upper canines, the pale marbled skin, the dark soulless eyes. It doesn't even feel warm through the blanket. She stares at it, swallowing, and the thing stares back blankly. It dawns on her this thing will never be a child, it will never want anything from her, no affection, no care, no nurturing, all it wants is to eat . How could she have been so wrong?

"It's quite heavy for an early birth," Bobbi remarks. "But that's not really surprising."

It's indeed heavy, plenty of dead weight. She has no doubt this thing would have kicked through her stomach if necessary. No concern for anything but its own survival. She swallows again, staring at the dark void behind those eyes. "Can I- give it back?"

"Sure." Bobbi has plucked it from her arms before she can reconsider. "You should still take it slow. The vampire blood seems to have worked well but we don't want to risk it."

The hatch is closed soundly. Maria doesn't seem particularly excited about any of this, shuffling over and dropping on the bench. The thing on Bobbi's arm opens its mouth, gaping hole, sharp teeth that seem a little too big for its mouth. Bobbi snorts softly, dropping another slice of meat down its throat. And just like that, Natasha's out of this whole thing. This is not her baby. This is not something she can take care of. She can't fix this. She's never going to have a relationship with this thing because this thing is never going to have a relationship with her. This is not her baby .

"It's very hungry," Bobbi remarks, feeding it more. "I wonder how it will grow."

It doesn't matter. It's not a baby. It's something to recoil from, the blatant sign of her failure as a human. Maybe, if she pushes it away far enough, that counts for something, that makes her more human again. Turn off this path. It'll be a dreary march but maybe she'll get somewhere, because there is no staying here. She sees that now.

She lays down on the couch, her couch, and falls asleep with her heart thumping.

  The thing eats, sleeps and stares into the void. It hasn't made a sound once. It breathes, though. Bobbi takes care of it good-naturedly because Natasha absolutely can't but it seems more professional than out of joy of having it. It's really not a joy. It is eerie, the dead baby, the soulless baby, the parasite. It may be out of her body but she's got the feeling it would suck the life out of her if it could. She can tell Maria hates it as well, though she never says it, but then again she never says much.

Bobbi says she has postpartum depression, without the usual fatigue, but she can't understand the crushing moral weight of having brought this into the world. For God's sake, she fucked a vampire . Even if it was James. It sickens her. What's so wrong with her that she couldn't see how wrong this all was? How could her moral compass break like this? Maybe it was Alexei, maybe that's what ruined her, maybe- she knows she's still not over it, even if she pretends to be, chopping the head off of the man she used to love, and now she loves a vampire whom she could never ever hurt- Fuck. She went wrong at so many intersections. Alexei, the careless way she acted in Saint Petersburg, coming here, giving up so much on herself that she's willing to inject vampire blood, growing so used to it it doesn't even disgust her anymore. No wonder she fucked a vampire. She's become everything she murdered Alexei for, and so much worse. Thinking about it drowns her in shame. She can't hide from the world anymore. She could barely hide what she'd done to Alexei and now, this thing , it'll never ever go away.

She follows Maria outside to chop wood because she can't stand being around the thing. Maria, of course, doesn't remark on it, calmly but forcefully driving the ax into the wood. Natasha looks for something to say to assure Maria she's not all gone, that she's still human, that she shouldn't get her head chopped off like Alexei. "I wish I had never had it."

Maria huffs, then splits the next block. She doesn't seem convinced. Natasha will have to do more than that if she ever wants to have some worth as a human again. "I don't want anything to do with vampires ever again. With those monsters."

"Good," Maria remarks briefly, letting her ax rain down.

Natasha looks for even more words, something of a frenzy. "I want them all dead. All of them."

Maria nods, angling the next block and handing her the ax. Natasha takes a deep breath and slams it down with all her might, blowing right through the wood and at least an inch into the chopping block. Maria whistles through her teeth, nodding with approval, placing the next piece of wood on the chopping block and collecting the stray parts of the previous one. "You got strength."

"It's the vampire blood," Natasha replies, taking another deep breath before driving the ax through the wood. It feels good. Finally doing something. "It makes me stronger."

Maria nods slowly. "Use it."

  She doesn't cry. This is not something to cry about. This is bare knuckles, quiet resolve, clarity. Not the agreeable kind but still one you cannot ignore. She sits around, staring at the thing, trying to find the faintest hint of humanity in it but coming up short. It's a monster and she never should have had it.

Maria went out into the forest to hunt. Bobbi is downstairs in the lab, testing how the skin of the monster reacts to UV light. The thing itself is lying on the couch table, all bundled up, breathing stupidly through the monster fangs. Natasha stares at it venomously.

She can't live with this thing. It goes against everything. Beyond good and evil, this thing is just - it shouldn't exist. There are limits even to what this wretched world can take and this is beyond them. All of this is on her, so she needs to be the one to fix it.

She takes a pillow. The thing stares at her with its empty eyes. It's not even scared. Maybe it knows. Monsters don't feel things, other than bloodlust. It has the fangs and a tiny resemblance of the claws as well but the dead eyes are the worst. There's nothing behind those eyes. She made this soulless abomination, her own flesh and blood, she brought this upon the world, she needs to deal with it.

She presses the pillow onto the thing's face.

It doesn't struggle, doesn't move, but it never does, only ever to open its mouth and demand more bloody meat. There's barely any resistance. She honestly hopes it fucking dies. There's no place in the world for this thing, they're all better off without it, it doesn't deserve to breathe air like a human when it's nothing more than a parasite and a monster. She presses the pillow down harder. The thing doesn't even react. She feels bile rising up her throat, the ugly truth making her gag, tears streaming down her face. She never wanted this. Any of this. She wanted something human , something real , something that makes her better, not this monster, this abomination, this disgrace. She never wanted the world to see how fucked up she is, fucked up enough to sleep with a vampire, to take vampire blood, to have the monster baby and believe it's going to be anything else than exactly that, a monster with fangs and claws and dead eyes and an insatiable hunger, it's dead already, dead to her, and maybe then she can wake up from this nightmare and go back to- to a world without vampires, an ugly and painful world but one with hope nonetheless, not this soulsucking dark pit, this endless tunnel, this sinful void-

Something rips her back, fingers digging into the pillow but futilely, and Bobbi pushes her back onto the couch and throws the pillow onto the ground, checking up on the thing- its face is red and it's breathing hard but it doesn't appear perturbed. "Shhh. It's okay."

Natasha feels even more tears stream down her face. Fuck. Did she really think, did she really convince herself that this would fix anything? That she could make any part of this undone? Bobbi takes the thing and sits down next to her. "It's okay. It's okay, Nat."

No, it's not. She just tried to murder her own- this is even lower, even darker. This is how bad, how inhuman she is, how low she has sunk. The thing stares at her without any anger, any curiosity, any accusation, just a blank slate. It's not evil. It's just… there. "No, it's not okay."

Bobbi strokes the top of its head. "It's fine, really. Nothing happened. You're both going to be okay."

She's not going to be okay, and this is not fine. If Bobbi hadn't showed up, she really would have- This is exactly how fucked up she is, how self-hating, how ready to do anything that promises the faintest reprieve. She would have smothered her own child with a pillow because- because what, it's not what she hoped for? As if that's on her child and not on her, she pushed this thing into this world, how can she blame it for anything, really, try to push her own flesh and blood away because she can't face what she's become, can't own up to it, can't accept it. This thing is her and wanting to hurt it for that, annihilate it for that, that's just pathetic and stupid and hypocritical.

"It's okay," Bobbi assures her. "It's going to be okay."

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Staring

Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None Summary: You are the manager for the pizza parlor in the town of Newton. With the amount of gossip about the family who’s son was suspected for a murder. Your employees tend to judge the family who appeared in your parlor and you forgot everything bad that happened to them.

~~~

You were going in for work today and it was gonna be a busy day. For you, you guessed. You were mostly the manager of the place, your dad owns it but he was sick in bed so you took over.

You were young but you knew what you were doing. 

You heard about the recent murder about a 14-year-old boy who was found in the Cold Spring Park and you really didn’t want to know more after that. 

So you got to the store and opened it around 8 in the morning. You only open during the lunch and dinner times. 

It gave you enough time to set up the chairs and tables around the restaurant and set up menus at the front cashier before the workers starting coming in. You greeted them when they entered and you all finished off the parlor before opening it fully.

Not many people started coming in but it will get packed during lunch time and dinner.

Usually around 12 and 1 it’s packed. You were walking through the place and glanced up at the televisions mounted on the walls.

The courthouse was being filmed with the headline.

Jacob Barber and his family are in court for the murder of Ben Rifkin

 You turned away from the screen and continued to receive orders from the customers.

.

You were by the cashier register and heard someone come in. You look over and saw a family of three. One quick look and you turned away. Your co-worker, Aisha, went over to the family and took their order. You waited in the back and checked everyone around to see how they were doing.

You went to work and looked over to the family. The boy looked really upset. You hoped this pizza could cheer him up a bit.

You watched carefully at the family by the cashier register. Not because you were creepy, you were wondering why they seemed very mellow than the whole place who were laughing and chatting with huge smiles but the family didn’t look too happy.

You see your co-worker head over with their pizza, you stood by the cashier as you looked over to the left to see your other two workers talking on their small break.

You didn’t mind that but once you looked back to the woman handed them the pizza, she seem to not look away from the boy.

The father turned to her and said something more exasperation. She walks away from them and heads over to you but towards the two who were staring at the family as well.

You felt bothered by that. You knew your father wouldn’t like gossip around the place. No negativity, he said. You respected that and walked over to the group who were staring at the family.

“You guys ready to go back?” You asked, the three nod and head back to work as you head over to the family. You folded your hands together and walked up to their table.

You then realized its the Barber family from the news. You didn’t hesitate to speak, you wanted to be polite.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” You asked, looking over to the father. He lifted his head up and looked at his wife.

“I don’t think so,” He said, a bit unsure. You look over to their son. You knew it was Jacob. “I was watching from the distance and I wanted to apologize for my workers disrespect. I’m hoping I can treat you to a dessert? I know that our Zeppole di Caterina is one of our top favorites. I’m willing to not charge that.”

“Oh, please,” The father said, he smiled, “You don’t have to do that.” Their son looked up with the most soft eyes. He didn’t have that look since they came in. You shook your head, “No, please. I insist.” You saw that the drink that was almost empty by the boy as you reached over. 

“I’ll give you a refill on that, hun,” You grinned at him softly as he returned it. “Thank you.” You stood up and grinned at the family. “I’ll be back.”

You walked away and headed into the back kitchen to see your friend glance through the open serving hatch. “What happened?” He asked, you look over and walked towards the fountain drinks.

“Just usual family love. I want the Zeppole di Caterina,” You say, he nods, “Yes, ma’am.” He walks over to the kitchen as you returned to the family with Jacob’s drink.

After a few minutes, you took the Zeppole di Caterina over to them family. You placed the dessert in the middle, “There you go.” Jacob seemed a bit more happy than before as his parents were smiling up at you.

“Thank you so much,” The man says, you nod. “Of course, if there’s anything else you need I’m here.” The man smiles up at you and nods. You look over to the boy and smiled, “Enjoy.”

After that the family left a few minutes later. You watched as the worker cleans off the table and returns with the bucket and walks over to you. “Someone enjoyed their meal,” The woman says, handing you bills into your hand.

You looked at your hands and counted the money.

Holy crap. This guy gave you 100 dollars. You sighed and grinned. This family deserved more.

.

It had been a few days since that family had returned. You heard the news go on and on about them and you knew they wouldn’t return soon. You weren’t bothered that they didn’t come back, but you were bothered by how your workers talked about them.

You caught some of them and told them to continue working and stop chatting. After that day, Aisha never looked at any family any differently since you caught her with the Barber family.

You were filling the fountain drinks for the family of 6 who recently came in and you helped them.

Filling the third cup, someone taps your shoulder. “Yes?” You asked, turning around. Your worker, Lisa points outside. “Someone is outside. Asking for you.” You look over her shoulder and didn’t see anyone but you nod. “Okay, finish these up for me?” 

She nods and walks over as you head outside. You untied your apron and held it in your arm as you looked around.

“You’re busy,” Someone spoke, you turned to see the man who came here before. With his family. You chuckled softly, “This place is a five-star, it’s busy all the time.”

He smiles as he walked over. “I wanted to come back and see how you were doing,” He asked. You sighed, “Well... I’m busy but I get by. What about you?” You asked. You regretted saying that seconds after you did. His family is stuck at home now. Followed by reporters and their son being accused of murder.

You shook your head, “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay. We’re getting by...  it’s just... tough,” He responds, he looks up, “I just wanted to come up and say thank you. That day, you really made him happy.”

You smiled, “I know some people just don’t have guts to make someone else happy. I’m glad I was the one to make him happy. I kind of understand what you’re going through.” He nods. 

You shook your head again, “You also didn’t have to give me a tip like that.”

He smiled, “How can I? If you’re making someone happy, I must admit that you’re a good person.”

You held your hand out, “I’m Y/N.” He grins and takes your hand, “Andrew. Most call me Andy,” He said. You shrugged, “Andrew sounds professional, I think Andy will do.”

He laughs lightly and pulls away. You sighed, “You know, I learned a lot from my dad. The thing he’d say was... Don’t judge a person without full understanding the situation. Just because you don’t agree, doesn’t mean you’re right.” Andy nods at you.

“Sounds like a good guy,” He said.

You nod. 

~~~

Don’t judge people.

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[camomills]

Title: Stars of Soot Relationships: Silica/Sinon Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 3083 Summary: Sinon shows off GGO to Silica as a date, at Silica's request. As she experiences the different sensations of such a hardy world, Silica wonders why this world means so much to the other girl. Notes: Made for SAO Pride Week 2020 - Day 2: Stargazing. This one wasn't beta read because I was a bit pressed for time, so please forgive me for any glaring errors. It's been a while since I wrote Silica/Sinon! It was quite fun to revisit the ship. As per usual for me, this wound up as a weird mix of fluff and character study.

AO3 Link

-

The air in Gun Gale Online smells like gasoline and gunpowder, but Silica doesn’t mind… much. Not when she clings to Sinon’s back as they speed down the highway on a rental buggy, pigtails fluttering in the wind as her cheek finds rest in-between her girlfriend’s shoulder blades.

“I still can’t believe you want to try out this game,” Sinon says, the metallic hairpins on the sides of her face clinking lightly. She’s still not that used to driving, in the game or otherwise, so she keeps her eyes on the road instead of turning her head back as she talks. Vehicular collisions are not particularly romantic.

I just want to know what you see in it , Silica replies in her mind, raising her head.

She understands that, for all the time they spent together in ALO ’s fairy realm, that wasn’t Shino’s ‘world’, not in the way this place is. When she doesn’t bury herself in the curve of Sinon's back, the gas and soot is more apparent to all of her virtual senses, and even though it was her own proposition, she has to ask, why? Why choose colorless tiles and cracked pavement over the boundless hues of fantasy?

“I’d be lying if I said I… particularly get it,” Silica admits. “But this world is important to you, right?”

“Yeah,” Sinon replies. “ GGO might be an acquired taste, though. This game is gritty.”

She rolls her shoulders, leaning further back onto Silica.

Excluding Silica, Sinon has never been one for bubbly and cute, so GGO would always be a better fit for her. But this virtual world was made with inhospitality in mind, so not exactly the perfect dating spot. The fact that she’s here for one surprises her more than it does anyone else.

“Well,” Silica says, “good thing you’re here, then! Having a tour guide to show around should be a huge help.”

Sinon wheezes. “So I’m your tour guide, now?”

“Yes!” Silica proudly proclaims.

The sniper smirks. “Okay, then.”

Sinon twists the handlebars, and the bugey roars as it peels through the road. She can’t help but smile as Silica’s high-pitched yell reaches her ears, just barely audible over the revving of the engine.

*

The howling of gunfire can’t be heard as much within GGO ’s hub city, but the loud advertisements that echo from the bright signs serve as a fitting substitute, volume-wise.

Silica’s only knowledge of this game comes from watching Sinon and Kirito fight for their lives, real and virtual, through a tournament broadcast. The fact that Sinon still logs in daily to Gun Gale even after that incident would be odd to anyone other than people like the beast tamer and her friends, who are all VR addicts despite their time in Aincrad.

The two years in the floating castle, despite the pain it caused her, was where Silica grew the most. She’d never openly say that there’s a part of her that misses the days after the one year mark, when she’d settled into her reputation in those lower floors and tried to forget the outside world so much that she succeeded. None of her friends would. It’s a silent understanding and an untold promise; not to admit missing those days, so they don’t have to, either.

What does GGO, a medley of grit, greys and metal, mean to Sinon?

Their circumstances are different, but the scars they bear stain their skins in similar ways. The masks offered by virtual worlds, Silica knew, gave one the opportunity to confront themselves in ways one couldn’t anywhere else. There was something to the kind of place one chose to do so that Silica found important to know.

Sinon got to see New Aincrad, walk over the same plains wherein the beast tamer had met Pina, bask under the same electronic sunlight she experienced for two years.

It’s not fair if only one of them gets to do it, is it?

**

The sun sets while they stroll through the city, and Silica understands more of the acquired taste Sinon had mentioned. The approaching dusk was somewhat nice on itself, but the place was still a palette of monochrome then, all steel on sand, black on white. Once it’s officially night time in game, 6:00 PM sharp, however, everything changes. The dark of night makes the huge, floating billboards pop, neons of purple and blue scattered through the cyber landscape. The virtual city night lights become luminous streaks in her vision while they dash on the way here on the buggy, not unlike how she imagines speeding through one of Tokyo’s nightlife districts in a motorcycle would feel like. It’s movielike, but not fantastical or unreal, but maybe that’s the point; she doesn’t think she’d have the guts to go at such high speeds with her flesh-and-bone body, nor would Shino have the confidence Sinon presents.

There are things from real life that one can only do in a game like this.

***

They stop by an equipment shop at the center of the now-luminous city. Unlike the last time she was here with someone else, Sinon has no tournament sign-in to get to after shopping, so they can take their time.

Sinon is surprised when Silica picks an overall sensible combat outfit; a tactical green and black leather outfit with red accents, along with a dark, moss-colored poncho. We kind of match! Silica beams as she presents herself, pointing back and forth between her and Sinon’s outfit colors. She frames her face delicately and comically she does so, her eyes shining like a cartoon fawn’s. Sinon knows it’s on purpose, this over-the-top display of sweetness, but it makes her smile anyway.

Of course Silica found a way to make this cute.

It’s also cute, albeit in a different way, when Silica’s eyes look away from the armor section of the store and widen as she takes notice of a display of combat knives. They’re military-grade blades, absolutely indistinguishable from the real-world articles. Unlike just a moment ago, the shine in her eyes is unfeigned.

“Oh yeah, this game has these!” Silica exclaims.

Sinon turns to her with a quizzical look.

“... You’re interested in the knives?” That makes it two for two, the times she’s taken someone new here and they thoroughly ignored guns. Are all fantasy game players like this?

“Of course I do!” Silica exclaims, like it’s obvious. Her look all but says, I spent years fighting with daggers, remember?

Silica takes one of the knives from the demo display. It looks comically large in her hands, and yet it pales in comparison to the ones she’s grown used to in fantasy games. She spins the handle in-between her fingers, resting it on her knuckles. The hand flourish when she bumps the blade upwards, sending the knife spinning high, and then catches it from the air with her open palm is almost too fast to see. She gleefully changes the grip a few times before finally settling it in a simple reverse grip.

“They have such a better feel than those bulky daggers!” Silica exclaims in glee.

“ Impressive,” Sinon mutters under her breath. She can’t help but be hit with a sense of deja vu .

There’s a sensible distance one can gain when looking at someone brandishing a bright sword that looks more like a cosplay prop, or a fantasy dagger coated in filigrees. But there’s no distancing from seeing Silica, in all of her titanic five feet of height, doing knife tricks one would expect of a special forces soldier, or perhaps a movie greaser, when the blade is so realistic.

Sinon would be lying if she said she doesn’t find the display at least somewhat attractive.

Sinon heads over to a small menu in front of the knife section as she selects the same blade Silica had in hand. Soon after she goes through the proper transaction steps, holding Silica’s hand and laying it over the holographic display, one of the store robots scoots over to hand Silica her item.

Silica’s smile makes the credits Sinon spends all worth it.

… Is a knife a weird gift to give your girlfriend? Sinon thought, but that was a bridge already crossed. Then, she remembers the real reason they came here.

“I know you’re mostly here to look around, but you’ll still need some sort of main weapon if you’re to experience the game.  Pick whatever gun you’d like to test out and we can go to a shooting range.”

****

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am absolutely serious!”

Instead of the shooting range, the two find themselves by a station near the edge of the city, connected to the game’s starter fields.

The vehicle’s mounted weapon protrudes from a hatch on top. Its long, steely frame glimmers as it reflects the sun’s harsh light.  The heavy machine gun could be mistaken as some sort of cannon for the uninitiated in the ballistic arts, with its bulky, long barrel, but it’s a high-RPM, lightning-fast automatic weapon, nothing short of a reinforced harbinger of death.

“You said I could pick any weapon,” Silica reminded the other girl. “I’m picking this mounted gatling gun.”

Machine gun, actually, Sinon thought of correcting. Other than the regular shooting ranges in GGO, there were also training grounds for driving by the outskirts of the city, by the game’s starting area - it had been where Sinon had trained her bugey skills, in fact - but the knowledge of that, or of the existence of mounted weapons, is the sort of knowledge most newbies wouldn’t have.

Silica did her research for sure... and was probably planning this.

Sinon’s original plan was to simply show Silica around the game, so buying an expensive armored vehicle sounds unwise, especially when there’s only two people.

The sniper squints her eyes at the shorter girl.  Noticing Sinon’s glare, Silica fans her eyelashes pleadingly, and Sinon’s resolve falters.

… I guess I was thinking of getting everyone else to convert and help me out, anyway?

“... Fine,” Sinon concedes. “But you better help me convince everyone else to hop on here for the PKer problem, then.”

Silica immediately jumps in excitement. The humvee’s engine purrs to life as Sinon turns the engine key, and the newbie gunner excitedly hops to the top hatch.

*****

Silica is small, but she doesn’t feel so when she holds onto the trigger in the huge weapon’s handlebars, the generated mobs in the starting fields shattering into red sparks. She loudly laughs in excitement as the high speed vehicle traverses the shifting sands.

The ride is a feeling unlike her other experiences with virtual worlds. It might be due to what Sinon earlier described as a “commitment to grittiness,” but the game still replicates hints of discomfort; her small frame vibrates from the gun’s recoil, her fingertips feel a bit too warm, and she has to ask Sinon to stop every so often because of dizziness.

It’s annoying at first, but it grows on her.

Silica wonders if this is part of what draws Sinon to this world.

******

Silica finds the pink hue that covers GGO ’s desert sands endearing.

She gets a good vantage point to admire the landscape as she’s wrapped in one of Sinon’s arms and they zip up a rocky structure. The grappling hook’s line is taut with their combined weight.

Despite the pleasure found in their proximity, as her hand holds Silica’s body close to her by the waist, Sinon does so primarily out of practicality, as Silica doesn’t possess a grappling hook of her own.

Silica, however, finds herself smitten by the situation. Being carried in the arms of a cool girl as she takes in the sights of a foreign world, the warmth of her body providing solace in the cold, simulated night, is a scene befitting a dream she’d have long ago if she’d known she liked girls sooner.

Silica sighs in disappointment as they reach the summit, going from dream to simulated reality. As she looks at Sinon, she’s glad this reality, virtual as it is, is still dreamy aplenty.

The plateau atop the rock formations, where monsters couldn’t reach, was the perfect stargazing spot. It allows them to wind down after spending an entire day driving, shooting, and in Silica’s case, shouting in excitement. Sinon is not exactly the romantic type, far from it, but even she recognizes what the beauty of GGO’s night sky can do to one’s heart. She’s glad she gets to watch it with someone else now, instead of only her sniper rifle for company.

Sinon sits herself by a boulder on the plateau that she manages to find snug. The wordless invitation she gives Silica, as the spot to her side seems like it would fit her perfectly, beckons the younger girl, who hasn’t acquired the same grit to be truly comfortable on the hard surface. Thankfully, Sinon’s shoulder is softer than the rocks.

“So, what did you think?” Sinon asks. “Was I a good tour guide?”

“Yes,” Silica answers. “I give you five stars!” She nuzzles closer onto Sinon’s side.

They stare out at the sky. The moon is hidden behind drifting clouds.

“I have a confession to make,” Silica admits, in a tone that sits between jokey and serious. “I didn’t want to try this game only to shoot guns.”

“Oh?” Sinon’s surprise is clearly feigned. Even she would be able to understand that Silica’s request to see this game was a date proposition. There was a reason she decided to cap the night off with stargazing.

“Yeah. I guess I figured… playing this game would make me feel closer to you.”

“Oh.” Sinon’s surprise this time is genuine. “Well… do you?”

“Hmm.” Silica looks at them, sitting side by side, sharing warmth, and yes seems like the obvious answer here. “I mean, yes. But I suppose I was looking for an answer.”

“An answer… did you find it?”

“I’m not sure I did. I think I found… something,” Silica says. Her grip on Sinon’s arm tightens, a mix of affection and nervousness. “I think there is something important about virtual worlds, and why we’re drawn to them. I... now that I think about it, maybe I could’ve just asked you from the beginning.”

Her heels pitter-patter on the rocky surface.

“What does this… What does GGO mean to you?”

Sinon looks at Silica, a bit puzzled.

Silica doesn’t know how fair of a question it is, really. Could she explain what drew her to virtual worlds? Why thinking of Aincrad, her former prison, makes her feel homesick? But she’s nothing if not sincere, and she wants to know. She figures Sinon, introspective as she is, thinks about those things more than she does.

“GGO is, you know.” Sinon makes a meaningless hand gesture. She thought obsessively before about this question - her objective, her growth, her path towards becoming stronger , she called it. She doesn’t know how to distill it in a sensible way, is all.

A place to face my fears?  

Where I met Kirito, thus, how I met you?  

“ Home?” Sinon says without registering.

Oh.

It’s under this night sky, beneath a red moon, that Sinon realizes this is the first time she got to enjoy this world with someone she truly cared for, life-or-death situations notwithstanding. This place, with its odd smells, rattling sounds, and even unpleasant sensations, has been one of the few places of respite she had from… everything. Others. The world. Herself. It’s more evident now, with someone to share it.

“I came to this world because I wanted to surpass who I was. I wanted to become stronger,” Sinon explains, unsure of whether she sounds pretentious. Sinon’s jaw clenches, and Silica gives her a reassuring squeeze. “When I first came here, there was nothing I wanted more than to erase my real self with this- this stronger version of me. This better version of me.”

The image of Hecate II, her sniper rifle, her companion, comes to mind. She’d thought before, at times, what was she without its weight on her back, other than a fragile girl who can’t help but retch at the sight of gun replicas? Without burnt fingertips and trembling shoulders from gun recoil, how could she call the strength she built here real?

This place is home because it was under this same carmine moon that she realized Asada Shino, the high-schooler, was just as much of a warrior as Sinon, the elite sniper. Under this virtual sky, nothing but code threads woven into a reality, was where she accepted who she was.

She fidgets with her fingerless gloves as she continues. “It’s hard to give a simple answer,” she concedes. “But if I had to try, I’d say… this is the place that showed me it was okay for me to be myself. To recognize my strength, to connect with others. Back then, before this game, I never thought I’d get to have... this, I guess.”  Sinon nudges Silica’s shoulder with hers, playfully. “Who knows. Maybe I just wanted to be proven wrong.”

Silica’s heart tightens. She moves a hand to Sinon’s cheek.

“I’m glad you were proven wrong, then.”

In what Silica is pretty sure is the first time, Sinon is the one approaching her for a kiss.

It’s quick and sweet. Sinon’s thin lips press onto Silica’s lightly. It’s easy to forget they’re in the virtual world then, with their eyes closed the way they are, the waves of warmth  radiating through their faces as the only signal their AmuSpheres send to their brains.

*******

The night goes by quietly as they stare to the sky, save for the distant sounds of underground monsters shifting the sands and Silica’s occasional comment of how she’s sure she can tell the constellations even through the thick clouds. They have little time before GGO’s short day cycle robs them of this sight.

That sky, this world, are virtual, and they know that. It’s hard to tell, though, when it shares stars with the real one, when it shares warmth with the real one, when the strength they gain, the bonds they deepen, the sights they see, carry over to the real one.

The air in Gun Gale Online smells like gasoline and gunpowder, but Silica doesn’t mind… at all, really, when it grants them the opportunity to be so frank and close, so near when they’re so far.

When it grants them the opportunity to be themselves more than anywhere else.

[kickingitwithkirk]

A Kiss Upon Your Shoulder

Pairing: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Trouble Lacroix (OFC)

WC:3536

Warnings: 18 + only: kissing, humping M/F, intercourse, cursing, mention of addiction, angst

A/N: For @saxxxology #saxxxology vol.1 writing challenge

SONG PROMPT: Off My Mind-my favorite on the album

A/N: Set season 14 during Dean Winchester's possession by Apocalypse World's Micheal. Timeline extended and some events altered from series. I borrowed title from song lyrics.

*no beta- all mistakes are mine.

*GIF not mine

The sound of the bunker door closing reverberates through the room.

Several of the hunters around the map table stop what they're doing to watch an unusually tall Omega with long, smoky pink hair braided in a loose plait and wearing hunters garb descend the metal staircase halting at its bottom.

Sam Winchester is sitting at the far end of the table alternating between his phone receiving updates from hunters out in the field and the laptop looking for clues in the search for Dean while strategizing with Mary and Bobby their next move froze disbelieving his eyes.

“Sammy,” the Omega hesitantly says, her lightly accented voice startles him out of his stupor.

Batten down the hatches Sammy boy, Trouble just done walked back into my life��� Dean used those exact words years ago introducing him to this Omega, never knowing how true they would turn out to be.

But not for him.

Sam's eyes shift into a fiery glow as his inner Alphas outrage surfaces at this imposter trying to pass itself as his long gone Omega.

“What fucking game are you playing at?” Sam gets up growling, stalking towards her pulling his demon blade.

“Sam wait!” Mary hollers at her youngest son knowing all too well the damage Sam can inflict under normal circumstances but in the state of extreme stress he’s currently under doesn’t want him to do anything he’ll regret.

The Apocalypse World hunters glance at each other perplexed having never before seeing an enraged Alpha, unsure what they should do.

After their arrival to this reality Sam gave them a crash course on life here, including the multiple genders of humans, Alpha/Beta/Omega, their confusing hierarchies and how they relate to each other.

The Alpha/Omega intricacies and nuances were still hard for them to comprehend since all of them were Betas.

The Omega cast her eyes down in deference to the large Alpha. “I'm here abo...” she doesn't finish speaking as he wraps his hand around her throat, slamming her back against a support column. She seizes his wrist as her eyes snap up meeting his glaring back before tilting her head as far as she can to the right exposing more of her throat.

Sam cautiously leans in, running his nose along her neck. The unique scent of winter, perceptible only to the Alpha under the scent blockers she’s used triggers memories he’s diligently repressed to keep this Omega off his mind come flooding back. The blade clatters loudly on the floor in the now silent room.

Wrapping his arms around her nuzzling into the curve of her neck he sucks on that spot he knows drives her crazy. Biting her lip she tangles her fingers in his long hair drawing him back up, running her tongue over his lips seeking entrance that he grants swirling his tongue around hers.

Someone's wolf whistling snaps them out of acting couple newly presented teens caught by their parents being very naughty.

“Hmm, not sorry,” she whispers nibbling on Sam’s ear making him quiver.

“Behave,” Sam mutters back taking a deep breath and subtlety adjusting himself before turning around to deal with everyone's reactions, not really ready to answer the inevitable questions.

Scenting his anxiety she twines their hands together offering a reassuring squeeze.

They’ve drawn quite a large audience from the library and adjoining hallways. People are elbowing each other grinning, whispering among themselves about their Chiefs and strange woman's reactions to each other then necking in front of everyone.

Mary stands there, arms crossed with the patented mom’s not amused look.

Sam huffs out an embarrassed laugh. “Everyone this is Trouble Lacroix, she’s my...she's an old friend.”

“I’m just an old friend after everything I went through for you?” Trouble snaps and Sam growls a warning at her tone but fuck it, she was right.

When Dean introduced them they were both junkies. Sam drugs of choice were demon blood and the power it gave him. Trouble’s was whatever made her forget her hunter fathers dominance over her as an Omega.

By the time they both got clean Sam found he could love again and she had learned to trust the Alpha in him wouldn't hurt her like others had. Sam swore during his next rut he would claim her as his Omega.

A week before he said yes to Lucifer and the subsequent showdown at Stull Cemetery he went into rut.

At their secret rendezvous, an old hunters cabin in Arkansas with his rut over Sam hadn’t claimed her, saying he couldn’t damn her, that this was his last chance to, unlike Jess, save her from certain death.

Trouble stood at the cabins window overlooking a small lake silently crying, unable to respond. The Alpha scented her sadness wanted nothing more than to comfort his Omega but all he could do was to kiss her shoulder, as he’d always done before leaving that last time.

Almost a decade later Sam can see the damage his refusals done in her sorrowful eyes.

“You kiss all your old friends like that?” Bobby quipped sarcastically eliciting a few laughs and breaking some of the tension.

“You look like Bobby Singer but you...resonate all wrong,” Trouble remarks as her light colored eyes surveys the others in the room finally coming to rest on Jack. “A Nephilim without Grace?”

“Yes, he is,” Mary answers crossing over to stand next to Jack, “how can you know that?”

Trouble shrugs “I’ve always been able to perceive things that are outside the normal spectrum.”

“You can what?” Maggie asks confused.

“The Omega can see that you’re out of tune with this reality,” Castiel states tipping his head to the side studying her, “she also possess other abilities.”

“I don’t need them to see your a dick.”

“Trouble,” Sam warns knowing she’d picked that up from Dean.

“Sorry, Angel of the Lord.” She half ass apologizes.

“And you suddenly show up here out of nowhere because?” Mary tersely inquires in her Alpha voice. Sam bristles unhappy that another Alpha, even his own mother, thinks they can question the Omega.

Releasing Sam’s hand she steps closer to Mary taking the same stance staring her straight in the eye. “I’ve seen Dean.”

Trouble tells them everything about her encounter with Dean in Nova Scotia, where she’s been the last two months.

They question is why he let her live when he’s killed others he has had contact with, another piece in a puzzle not making sense.

Sam asks her to stay but she turns him down, telling him it's safer for her to keep moving. He counters what better place is there for protection than in the heavily warded bunker?

She reluctantly agrees but only until Dean returns.

Mary makes it vehemently clear it’s problematic having an unclaimed Omega stay.

Sam reminds his mother that he is a mature Alpha, been making his own decisions without her input his whole life and with the daily suppressants he’s taken for years can control his instincts.

That got Mary’s back up, ready to argue with her youngest son, reminding him the Omegas already made the unmated Alpha act out. Bobby pulls her to the side and somehow he convinces her that the Omegas will be an assist in finding Dean. She doesn’t like but relents. Trouble is to stay in Dean's room, his Beta scent will help cover hers more to mollify Sam and a physical space between them for Mary.

Sam's frustrations over having not found Dean yet and his personal anxieties were intermittently fluctuating. The stresses he’s under, hardly eating, barely sleeping a couple hours a day while keeping track of people out on cases and figuring out how to help Jack adapt to not having his powers. Then there’s Nick, the mere mention of his name makes Sam shudder, let alone the traumatic physical and emotional memories dredged up by their face to face interactions.

Thankfully, there hadn’t been any real drama between Mary and Trouble. They’ve avoided each other as much as possible in the bunker.

It was really late or early, depending on how one looked at it, and Sam was still setting in the quiet library, waiting for the last couple of hunters to check in. “Sam, you’ve been here for hours, go to bed.” Trouble softly remarks as she walks up behind him gently running her fingers through his hair.

Sam closes his eyes enjoying her touch. “Just waiting on Maggie and Sharon to check in then I'll go.”

She snorts snagging his phone when it sounds, “Who you lying to? OK, their at the one star for the night. Everyone's accounted for.” Sam reaches for his phone and she dodges typing before handing it back and walking off.

“Cas is what...the hell that’s happening!” Sam gets up going after her.

“Bobby’s idea so go bitch to him mister ‘cause technically your off duty for the next twenty-four hours.” Trouble says unintimidated with him following her fuming, “Your exhausted Sam, you need a break so quit fighting and let us help.”

She stops at the shower-room door. “First, go bathe, you reek Alpha, then meet me in your room.” Sam goes from pissed off to aroused in three seconds. Trouble scents him, “Yeah right, it’s Netflix and chill...” She remarks them gives him a mischievous grin sashaying off.

Sam had been making courting overtures towards her, even though they were on a time limit, hoping he'd be awake long enough to make the most of this opportunity.

After the much needed shower Sam heads to his room in nothing but a low slung towel tosses it with his clothes into the dirty laundry hamper. Trouble came in carrying a tray of food locking the door behind her stops, inhaling sharply at the view of a completely naked Sam. He shivers as her eyes rove over him.

Sam’s not as bulked up as he was a decade ago, a leaner version still possessing a well defined upper body leading down to his flat stomach, the sharp v of his hips and those long legs. And between those legs...Swallowing hard and flushed Trouble moves setting the tray down on his bedside table as he hastily pulls on sweats and a grey t-shirt.

“Your three episodes behind in that series, figured you might want to watch it.” Trouble says grabbing his laptop and crawling onto his bed pulling up what he had been watching. “Have you seen it?” He asks sitting next to her.

“No, first your gonna eat,’ she gestures towards the tray with tomato rice soup, crackers and fruit, “then you can catch me up.”

By episode three Sam had eaten everything on the tray, brushed his teeth and was sacked out. Trouble shut the laptop down and placed it on the desk.

Turning out all the lights but a bedside one she slips back in next to Sam picking up the book she brought from the library. She’d been reading for awhile when Sam rolls over in his sleep, one leg landing between hers, arm draped across her waist and his head on her shoulder nuzzling into her neck murmuring, “back in my bed.”

As consciousness slowly filtered through the haze of extended sleep two things simultaneously get Sam’s attention, the cool scent of the Omega he’s spooning and his morning wood trapped between them.

“Must’a been a good dream,” Trouble yawns rolling onto her stomach, the sheet sliding down reliving her long legs and lower cheeks peeking out under her oversized T-shirt burying her head in the pillow mumbling “I was gonna leave after you fell asleep.”

Running a hand up the back of her thighs he pushes till she parts her legs far enough for him to touch her outer folds feeling how wet she already is before slipping two fingers into her tight channel. Trouble moans as he them slides deeper, making her wriggle against the mattress seeking friction against her clit. Sam crawls over wedging a knee between hers.

“Sam..we..sho..shouldn’t.”

Pulling his fingers out Sam moves straddling her legs, pinning them closed as he sits on her thighs stroking himself, using her slick as lubricant. Grasping her hips he starts rutting his cock between her ass cheeks.

Grunting, Sam shifts picks up momentum and with her under him, even like this, knows he’s not gonna last long. “Fuc..fuck Trouble..gonna cum…” Sam jerks back fisting his cock rapidly, cumming on her before falling forward and catches himself with one hand next to her, breathing hard. With his other hand Sam runs his fingers through his spending's rubbing it across her back.

Trouble pushes up onto her elbows looking back at him, “Dude, are you scent marking me?”

“Maybe.” Sam replies with a smug smile.

“So gross, Alpha.”

Sam was beyond frustrated and feeling sick on his drive back from Atlanta. The rumored sighting of Dean end up being a bust, another one of those crazies he’s sick of wasting his time chasing. Switching off the radio that's making his headache pound harder making him wish he was home already.

Trouble, utilizing her abilities, was able to help eliminate some of bogus reports. Unfortunately, when any of them got to close, Dean disappeared.

The last time she had him, he created some kind of feedback knocking her unconscious. Cas checked her over, telling Sam she would be fine.

When she woke up Trouble tells them she’s seeing Dean doing strange experimentation on different types of monsters using Archangel Grace and it scares the hell out of her.

That was Sam’s breaking point. He stormed through the bunker in full Alpha mode from the infirmary to Deans room, packed her duffel and hauled it to his room. Even Mary knew better than to get in his way this time.

Sam couldn’t get her off his mind anymore now he had her back in his bed. She allowed him hold her whenever they slept together but wouldn’t permit anything else since that morning.

The Lebanon City Limits sign was a welcome sight. Sam was sweating, shaky and just wanting to get home.

He arrived at the bunker wondering what the hell he had caught. Mary greeted him with a hug and frowned catching his scent. Sam played it off, saying the Beta who had one too many hits of the brown acid was ill and he must have caught it.

Another hunter handed him a bowl of soup and bad news about some gypsy vamps attaching truckers. He had them set up checkpoints and sat down to hack the traffic cams. Mary gripped his arm concerned as he’s typing but he says he‘s good. She didn't believe him but doesn’t push knowing he wasn't gonna stop.

Six hours later as he left Nicks room he felt a massive surge go through him, no longer able to ignore what was wrong and it was his own damn fault.

Sam had forgotten his suppressants and for the first time in years was going into rut. He made it to the end of the hall before passing out.

Cas had been by his friends bedside since Sam was found unconscious in one of the hallways days ago. He had been able to temporarily bring Sam's fever down and gave him sedatives to help him rest but with his age not being mated and having gone years without a rut his biology was demanding only cure, his chosen Omega.

Cas had called the Omega only getting her voicemail, left a message and began sending multiple texts.

He explained to Bobby that Mary had to leave the bunker, not only for her safety but the Betas also living there, unsure of how Sam will react to having another Alpha present when his Omega returned. Bobby found a case in Oregon that would occupy them for at least a week.

So Cas continued to do the only thing he could and watches over his friend.

Sam woke groggy from the sedatives to the strong scent of an Omega in heat pulling him to full consciousness.

Rolling onto his side he finds Trouble lying next to him naked, covered in a light sheen of sweat fitfully sleeping.

Moving to spoon her from behind he grips one leg hooking it over his rocking his hips sliding his engorged cock through her dripping folds, Half asleep she whimpers pulling out of his grip, drawing both legs to her chest. Rumbling in discontent Sam scoots behind her again, lines up and buries himself in her tight heat making her moan with pleasure, her cunt stretching around him.

Sam pulls out and hauls Trouble onto her hands and knees spreading her legs wide and sinks back in till his hips are flush against her ass. Feeling her relax around him Sam grasps her waist so tight bruises already forming and growling at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her slick cunt he starts pounding his hips rapidly.

Trouble reaches out grabbing the headboard to stop Sam from shoving her into it since he has six inches and nearly seventy pounds on her and is running on his instinct to mate.

Sam's knot starts to swell he continues thrusting wildly wrenches her hips up, forcing her to arch her back more as he grunts ramming the now fully engorged knot into her cunt locking them together and falls over her back, rolling his hips as she clenches him cumming.

Sam pushes himself back upright pulling her with him, flush against chest seizes a fistful of her thick hair bends to bite deeply into her neck making Trouble cry out loudly and cum again.

As they counterbalance each other Sam runs his tongue over his mark cleaning off the seeping blood helping the wound seal up faster before shifting to lay them down on the mattress.

Feeling the tug of his knot Trouble clenches tightly around him again, sending another orgasm rippling through Sam, releasing more of his seed into her.

Sam wraps his arms around Trouble, their bodies trembling from the exertion and a feeling of immense peace he’s never had before settles within him. He places a kiss upon her shoulder as it dawns on him he’s finally being to call her his omega.

“It's just every time I think about ya know its a..its like a nightmare. I can't eat, can't sleep, it’s always just there watching.” Dean bitched as they’re walking through the hallways.

“Dean, it’s just a beard, I’ve been a little busy lately” Sam remarks back exasperated and relived to have his brother back giving him a hard time.

“Yeah well, that’s not an excuse ya know, ‘cause a.. Duck Dynasty called and they just they want it all back.”

“Some people say I look good.” Sam proudly states almost telling him why he’s really kept it.

“No..no Sam, no people say that.” Dean shakes his head.

“Duck Dynasty is a step up from Dr. Sexy in some peoples opinions,” Dean turns to counter that insult disbelieving his eyes like Sam did weeks ago.

Trouble’s leaning against the wall now sporting titian tresses that rival Rowena's.

“Good to have you back Dean,” She says giving him a hug, “and I like the beard.” Walking over to Sam she pushes him against the wall wantonly kissing in front of Dean.

Breathless, Sam touches his forehead against hers running his fingers along the flannels front, “I was looking for this shirt the other day ‘mega.”

“Hmm, my bad, suppose I need to be punished Alpha.” She teasingly remakes biting her lip as Sam purrs low in his chest sliding the shirt off her shoulders.

“You’re back together?” Dean blurts out in disbelief interrupting them.

Sam turns pulling Trouble with him, her back flush against his chest reaches up moving her hair revealing his mark.

Dean looks between them, “fucking took you long enough Sammy,” he barks before continuing down the hallway grumbling, “there better not be any more surprises.”

Sam nuzzled into her neck breathing in the new honey-vanilla scent mixing with her naturally cooler one reaches down placing his large hands protectively over her womb where their surprise is resting tenderly kissing her shoulder.

[yogaposesfortwo]

Digital Detox? Nah. How to Cultivate Digital Wellbeing

When Jess Davis and I were first scheduled to chat, I didn’t get an answer. I knew that she was planning to spend the day in the woods, and figured it was a reception issue. It’s an appropriate issue for Jess to have—as the founder of Folk Rebellion, a media and lifestyle brand advocating for offline living—a lack of cell reception kind of comes with the territory. When I spoke with her a few days later, she gushed about her experience in a Getaway cabin, a new-ish company founded to help city folks develop a personal relationship with the great outdoors. Jess had been running around for the previous couple of weeks, stressed and overworked, and had gotten sick. Jess’s friend and founder of Getaway insisted she come and stay in a cabin, completely off-grid. Unplugging for a few days was just what the doctor ordered—though it came as no surprise to Jess. A former award-winning brand strategist who thrived for 10 years in a fast-paced, tech-heavy world, Jess had a reckoning that while she’d helped to create a world that was digitally connected, the flip side was a sincere disconnection from the actual, tangible world. She founded Folk Rebellion to help others like her develop a sense of digital wellness and a healthy relationship with their devices. WTF is Digital Wellbeing? “Five years ago, digital detoxing was a way to start the conversation,” says Jess, but notes that an absolute approach may not be the healthiest way to go about digital wellness today. The digital revolution isn’t comparable to something like cigarettes, for example, when it comes to being healthy. “Technology is an amazing tool when used appropriately. For me, it’s digital wellbeing,” she says. “The same way you have wellbeing with nutrition and with exercise, I think that the next form of wellbeing is being digitally well. You can’t rush to yoga, have your juice, take your supplements, and be well if you don’t have a healthy relationship with your technology and your devices,” she says. Jess likens the evolution of digital wellness to the seatbelt revolution in the 1980s. Cars were, point blank, unsafe—and auto manufacturers were reluctant to spend the money to revamp their factories. Ralph Nader led the charge to change mindsets: It wasn’t cars that were dangerous, it was the cars without safety precautions. He successfully lobbied for seat belts, airbags, and stop signs. “I’m not saying that the tech is bad and we need to go without it completely,” says Jess, “but if we don’t start adding some stop signs, seat belts, and some age restrictions, there are going to be some negative things that happen.”

The Dangers of Digital Overdose Going through the windshield of a car is a significantly more dramatic deterrent, however, than the threat of a sore thumb. Consequences of digital overuse are much more nuanced, and complicated by the fact that digital dependency is, point blank, a revenue model. The more time we spend online—and the more information we share—the more money companies make. “When you think of addiction you think of drugs,” says Jess. “You think of all of these terrible things that you think, ‘Oh, no. Not me.’ When you find out that people are sitting alone and they can’t get off of their phones for like 13 hours a day or a video game, this is addiction.” Jess should know. Before she left her previous life, she absolutely considered her own dependency an addiction. “The experiences that I had and what’s now being documented is a general sense of dissociation from reality,” she says. “A malaise, a feeling of un-wellness 24/7. Inability to focus, memory loss—which was my number one ailment—which now they call digital dementia. It’s terrifying, but it’s literally called that,” she says. If we don’t start adding some stop signs, seat belts, and some age restrictions, there are going to be some negative things that happen. Overuse can result in myriad consequences. We’re physically rewiring our brains to consume and retain shorter and shorter content, which shortens our attention spans. This can in turn inhibit our ability to be creative and to follow-through with complex tasks. Additionally, there is no shortage of evidence that boredom—space previously unfilled by mindlessly scrolling—spurs innovation. But it’s more than that. “One of the things that they’re finding is the scariest thing to me is that children who studied with an iPad or used and iPad as a learning device from birth till they entered kindergarten versus children who did not,” says Jess. She understands that these can be great learning tools, but when comparing the socialization of these kids, children who used the device were 35 percent less empathetic than the ones who didn’t have it when they entered kindergarten. “What does society look like 35 percent less empathetic?” asks Jess. There’s also the issue of increasing narcissism, which leads to increased rates of depression and isolation. The long-lasting effects of heavy social media use have yet to be determined, but again, there’s no shortage of anecdotal evidence that the negative effects of overuse are damaging at the very least. And Jess suspects that there are potential negative effects on physical health as well—she thinks there could be a correlation between the cortisol released when our phones ding, and increasing stress levels that lead to autoimmune disease. “That’s my hunch, anyway,” she says. Corporate Responsibility Just as the doctor who created Frankenstein was ultimately horrified with his invention, Jess says that many of the bigwigs who helped to create Silicon Valley are aware of its dark side. One group, the Center for Humane Technology (the guy who invented the “Like” button and an original founder of Twitter among its founders) is one organization looking to pull back the reins on the creations they put into the world. What does society look like 35 percent less empathetic? “They’ll go to Google, they’ll go to Apple, and they’ll say: ‘This is how you need to start thinking about making things’,” says Jess. “On the other end of the spectrum is me, and organizations like Folk Rebellion. What we’re really trying to do is to educate the consumer.” Jess says the approach to curbing digital addiction should be three-pronged: Organizations funded by the government (ie: education in public schools), corporations, and personal choices. “I think it really starts on a small scale,” she says. “Homes, small businesses, neighborhoods, families, schools—things like that.” Advice for Kicking Your Addiction The first time Jess purposefully went without her phone for a three-day weekend, she says she was forced to face just how dependent she had become. “I’m an introvert at heart,” she says. “What happened was I kept touching my back pocket when I was being introduced to somebody, and I then had this gross realization that I’m cutting off conversations of people I have just met because I’m uncomfortable and I have this sort of get-out-of-jail-free card in my back pocket,” she says. The first step Jess recommends to digitally detox is to truly get rid of everything. Keep a pen and paper handy, and jot it down every time you think of your phone, touch your pocket, or feel uncomfortable without it. “Then you start to understand your triggers,” says Jess. “Once you have that, you go back to the real world and you have to start to set these boundaries in balance.” Jess only checks her email Monday through Friday, at specified times. She keeps her cell number private. She gave herself the rule that she no longer scrolls while in motion—that includes the subway, while walking, or in a car. “It’s just creating space,” says Jess. “If you can slice off and put these little hatch lines throughout your day of space that you can expand that doesn’t have the digital or the tech in it, that’s where you’re starting to create that better balance of it.” The other thing she’s done is to reintroduce tangible mediums where possible. “I use tech all day—I’m a creator on the computer,” she says, “and so when I don’t have to be working, I go back to the forms that I used to love before these devices kind of consumed everything. I have magazine subscriptions. I actually carry physical books.” Despite that they’re heavier, for Jess, it’s a relationship worth the weight. Bottom line? Technology isn’t the enemy—it can be a powerful tool to connect, which can enhance your relationships and make life easier. Allowing the digitized world to make life too easy, however, is the trap. As yogis know, balance is the key. Author: Lisette Cheresson Source: https://wanderlust.com/journal/digital-detox-uk/ Discover more info about Yoga Poses for Two People here: Yoga Poses for Two Read the full article

[derpyslurpy-da-derp-master]

All the personal asks plz

Alrighty then!

1. Any scars?

Mhm, pretty much all the scars I have are burns. One is from burning the side of my arm on an iron my mom had  standing upright that I brushed against trying to reach something on the counter behind it and I’ve got one or two other scars from my culinary class on my hands from trying to put a tray in the oven and bumping it on the rungs above the ones I was putting it on. I burnt my hand day one of actually cooking. Yes I’m a disaster.

2. Self harmed?

Absolutely not. One, I’m too scared of pain, and two, I have uh… An unpleasant history involving someone else threatening self harm to make me do what they wanted, so… It’s a really sore spot for me.

3. Crush?

I honestly have no idea.

4. Kissed anyone?

Nope

5. Coke or Pepsi?

Neither they make me physically ill

6. Someone you hate?

There’s a LOT of assholes at my school but the person I hate the most is probably my dad for reasons.

7. Best Friends?

Mhm! I’ve got a handful on this site but my IRL best friend is @theansweris-a. She doesn’t really get on tumblr anymore but if you’re reading this I love you friendo and have a good day! :D

8. Have you ever done alcohol or drugs?

hahaha fuCK NO. I’d rather not get addicted to something that can and will kill me and throw my money at people to sustain it. If someone offered me either I’d probably flip them off whilst slowly backing up and getting tf out of there because NO.

9. What’s your dream job?

Author/Illustrator with some VA work and Video Game directing on the side.

10. Ever been in love?

I have. It was with someone I didn’t have a chance with and who would be an absolutely awful lover to me since we weren’t compatible emotion-wise so I let it go. It was hard, but I did it.

11. Last time you cried?

Last Sunday trying to explain to my mom why our preacher and the church we go to has completely fallen out of my favor for it’s very loud blatant ‘LGBT people are bad abortion is evil insert other white conservative stuff here’ ‘cause she doesn’t know I’m LGBT+ (and it’s going to stay that way) and I was trying to explain to her why I would never say invite my LGBT friends to church because they would be mercilessly persecuted by people who call themselves followers of God then spit in his eye by doing the exact opposite of everything he’s asked of them. Yes I still feel really strongly about this.

12. Favorite color?

Cyan!

13. Height?

How coincidence, I just got it measured today! 5′6, FINALLY OFFICIALLY TALLER THEN MY MOM MUHAHAHAHAHA

14. Birthday?

November 17th!

15. Eye color?

Milk chocolately-brown

16. Hair color?

Dark brown

17. What do you love?

this is so open ended hjkfjfjkhgkjh okay then I love girls, video games, anime, writing, drawing, reading, and animals.

18. Obsession?

My top 3 in order of obsession; Kill La Kill, RWBY, and Kingdom Hearts.

19. If you had one wish, what would it be?

For every single illness, disease, syndrome, disorder, and so on to have a cure. From Cancer to Asthma. Both because I have so many incurable diseases/disorders and because I know there are people out there who have things so much worse than me in that department.

20. Do you love someone?

I love all my mutals, friends, and most of my family including extended family. 

21. Kiss or hug?

I’ve never been kissed so I don’t know anything about how that would be so I’d say hug because I love hugs!

22. Nicknames people call you?

Derpy, Slurpy, D-Slur, Resident Cinnamon Roll (That’s my actual nickname on a Revue Starlight discord)

23. Favorite song?

this is like asking me to pick my favorite child uhhhhh… This Life Is Mine by Jeff Williams, it just means a lot to me.

24. Favorite band?

i know no bands by name

25. Worst thing that has ever happened to you?

….Okay, uh, this is gonna be really hard to decide because a LOT of bad things have happened to me. I’ll go with the more physical choice because I’d rather not dump too much of my emotional baggage onto yall. One time I was being prepped for surgery and they needed to get the IV in. (for the record I’m shaking pretty badly right now from thinking about this) They had to stab my arm with what they called a ‘Bee sting’ (it wasn’t a bee sting it goes almost down to the bone) that had numbing stuff in it and they were trying to find a vein they could put my IV in but they couldn’t find one (okay now i’m typing really fast so I don’t have to think about this for long) and they kept stabbing my arm over and over again. The thing is I have a serious phobia of needles that sends me into panic attacks, I’ll go lightheaded I’ll lose my hearing and so on. So I was trying to put a brave face on despite my parents not even being there but they would. not. stop. They didn’t give me a break. It was one stab then another then another then another. I was having a full blown panic attack, I was almost crying. Then they seemed to get it. They left me for a bit and my parents came in. My arm started swelling. They HADNT got it. My arm was being filled with whatever my IV was. They came back in with the beesting. They started stabbing me again but on the other arm. I couldn’t keep a brave face anymore after thinking they were finally done. I started to cry and sob and the panic attack I had that day was the single worst I have ever had. It got worse. They missed a vein entirely and instead hit a bundle of nerves. My hand started involuntarily twitching as pain unlike any I’ve ever felt before or until now wracked my arm. I had actual trauma from this, the night after the surgery I kept feeling ghost pains of the stabs in my arms, I had to sleep on my stomach with my arms wrapped around my front just to make them go away. I’m still extremely traumatized of this to this day. I never want to have surgery again. I never want an IV again. 

Okay that got away from me there I’m sorry I kinda was having a panic attack while writing that. Anyways moving on.

26. Best thing that has ever happened to you?

This is gonna sound cheesy but meeting @theansweris-a. She’s the sweetest and kindest person I have ever met in my entire life and I feel so incredibly lucky to call her my friend, though knowing her she’ll see this and reply with ‘No U’ because we always end up in a shouting match of ‘YOU ARE A WONDERFUL HUMAN BEING’ ‘NO YOU’RE A WONDERFUL HUMAN BEING’ 

27. Something you would change about yourself?

I definitely would lose weight. Not because of societies bullshit but because I legitimately want to lose weight so I can actually get strong and build up some muscle, I WANT TO BE ABLE TO OPEN GATORADE BOTTLES GODDAMNIT

28. Ever dated someone?

Nope, I’m closeted and have no interest in even pretending I’m straight by dating a guy, I mean I know some genuinely nice guys (all of them dorks) but they’re all just my friends though they are massive goofballs and I love them very much. (Entirely platonically)

29. Worst mistake?

I… Don’t think you guys wanna know that. It’s nothing bad its just depressing and I don’t wanna be more depressing then I already have been.

30. Watch the movie or read the book?

Depends on which is better, like I’d rather watch the Chronicles of Narnia than read the books because the books are honestly terrible but I’d rather read Percy Jackson than watch the movie because the movies are incredibly unfaithful to the books.

31. Ever had a heartbreak?

Yeah… 

32. Favorite show?

Kill La Kill!

33. Best day of your life?

My cheesiness never ceases but the first time I actually hung out with @theansweris-a IRL at the mall. I remember being SO excited for it but also nervous that how easily we talk to each other wouldn’t translate into real life and I remember spotting her walking up and practically shouting her name before running up and giving her a big ol’ hug whilst crying happy tears (I know i’m sappy shut up) and then when we were let loose to walk around we quickly discovered that we clicked almost immediately and incredibly well it was just the best thing ever. Like, in that one day alone we spent six hours in that mall just chatting and buying stuff and having fun and we left the mall with like three different inside jokes despite it being our first time meeting in person since we first met. Hi my name is Derpy and I’m a big ol’ sap.

34. Any talents?

I’m pretty good at writing, I can type really fast, and I can play the harmonica.

35. Do you wish you could ever start over?

Absolutely not. Things are the way they are for a reason, and even though I’ve been through a LOT it’s because of all that that I’m the person I am today and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

36. Any bad habits?

Yeah, I’m a nail biter.

37. Ever had a near death experience?

Yes actually, when I was 3 or 4 we took a plane to California to visit some relatives and I almost walked out of the air hatch one the way out, I remember this vividly even though it was a long time ago. If it wasn’t for the flight attendant grabbing me before I fell out, I wouldn’t be here today.

38. Someone I can tell anything to?

@theansweris-a and @my-words-are-light, they’re both really good listeners and have helped me through a lot of stuff.

39. Ever lost a loved one?

My Great Grandpa Ritch died shortly after I was born, there’s a lot of pictures of him smiling and holding me while in a hospital bed and hooked up to oxygen.

40. Do you believe in love?

Oh absolutely, 100%. I mean if you know me you already know that I have just ABSURD amounts of love in my heart and I genuinely believe that it exists.

41. Someone you hate/Dislike?

Wasn’t this already a question?

42. Are you okay?

Mostly, yeah. I have some stuff to work on but I’m honestly at the best i’ve ever been!

43. Relationship status?

I’m a Single Pringle

[forksofwisdom]

Twilight Characters Cast as Greek Deities - pictures + explanations

Warning:

This is a long one (but there are a lot of pretty pictures!)

By Greek Deities I mean all of them - the Primordial gods, Titans, Olympians, Daemones (personified spirits), and Nymphs. I focused on the deities personalities, abilities or history to find the right fit! Relationships are not taken into account!

Thanks to the anon who encouraged me to combine my love of Greek mythology with Twilight! This is for you!

These are simply my headcanons, so you're free to disagree or expand on them as you like!

The Olympic Coven

Carlisle's foremost characteristic is his compassion and desire to heal others. He saved the lives of most of his family members; Edward, Rosalie, Esme, and Emmet. Asclepius, the son of Apollo and famed physician, was punished by Zeus for saving the life of mortals from certain death. He was elevated to godhood in death.

Esme is described as the heart of the family. In ancient Greece, the hearth was the center of the home and family. Hestia received the first offering in every household since she presided over the preparation of the family meal.

Jasper participated in two major wars, both as a major and then as a second-in-command. He isn't rash or sadistic enough to be Ares, but his gift for strategy and charisma makes Pallas, the Titan god of Warcraft and military campaign, an excellent choice for him.

Alice has the gift of foresight, but her vivacious personality is why I chose the Titaness, Phoebe, out of all of the prophets and oracles. Phoebe is derived from the Greek word "phoibos" which means bright or radiant!

Emmett has superior strength than most vampires. Kratos is the personified spirit of strength, might, power and sovereign rule.

Rosalie was a difficult choice because she's like the lovechild of Aphrodite and Athena. She's beautiful, passionate, and desires children (procreation) but a she's also intelligent and interested in mechanics and engineering which is Athena's domain. I went with Aphrodite in the end because Athena is a maiden goddess and asexual.

Edward was an easy choice however because there are surprisingly few gods who rule music. Apollo is the god of music, poetry, and healing (to name a few) and Edward has an interest in medicine. To my knowledge, there are no Greek gods with the ability to read minds as Edward does.

The Quileutes

Sam was forced to keep the Alpha position by Jacob, which is an immense responsibility. Atlas was condemned to bear the entire sky for leading the Titans in their war against Zeus. Atlas came to mean endurance. (I thought of Hades at first, and I totally agree with you anon - he's got the 'hard on the outside soft on the inside' thing down to pat, but Hades fit another character better!)

Jared has the penchant for gambling. At first, I thought Hermes would be a good match for him, but Hermes many other titles (so, so many titles). I decided that Caerus, who is the god of opportunity, critical time, advantage and profit, was a better fit since those are attributes of (successful) betting.

Paul has a temper, but he's not a sadist like Ares. Poseidon is infamous for his temper tantrums, causing earthquakes and tsunamis (he's also a petty bitch, and I wouldn't put it past Paul to be one too if he could get away with it)

Jacob has a love for mechanics, and not many can say that they built their car! Hephaestus became the god of smiths, fire, and metalworking and his creations are prized and sought after by all the other gods!

Leah was challenging to cast. Initially, I thought she'd make a good Artemis, but that goddess has notoriously born hatred for all men since her birth. The only side of Leah we get to see in canon is the front she puts up - burnt and bitter. She's argumentative, sharp-tongued, and downright vicious. Eris is... not pleasant to be around. I think Leah would join Artemis and become her handmaiden once she's calmed down and away from Sam and Emily.

Seth is our sunshine boy!!! (need I say more???)

Embry is reserved and likes his space. I think he's the type to take advantage of the trails around La Push and go on long walks and enjoy his own company. Pan was the god of shepherds and forests of the mountain wilds. The Greeks associated his name with the word pan which means "all." However, its true origin lay in an old Arcadian word for rustic, but I couldn't resist quoting Hitchhiker's Guide in the picture - it's my favorite. I'M ONLY HUMAN!)

Quil is remarkably relaxed and cheerful for a boy who's supposed to be raging with testosterone *cough* Jake *cough* Paul *hack*. He seems like the sort of guy to enjoy a good party, and Dionysos certainly does. It doesn't hurt that he's best friends with Pan (Embry).

Emily was against Sam imprinting her at first. She was a victim of circumstance (it’s still shitty what they did to Leah), and Persephone was precisely that: a victim. Hades asked Zeus for the hand of one of his daughters and Zeus said that he could have Persephone, but that he'd need to kidnap her because Demeter would never allow him to have her daughter. He stole her and later tricked Persephone into staying with him for eternity. They fall deeply in love by the end tho.

Kim's personality isn't known in canon - other than that she's shy. She's a favorite of mine though, so that's why she's here! In my headcanon, Kim is intelligent and offers great advice. She's cunning as well, and nothing goes past her - Jared doesn't stand a chance. Metis was a councilor of Zeus during his war against the Titans and hatched the plan which would make Cronus regurgitate Zeus's siblings. (She's also the mother of Athena - pls read her story it's incredible! ಥ_ಥ)

The Swan Family

Bella is a shield, both in her human life and as a vampire. She does what she can to protect her loved ones, even going as far as to sacrifice herself by drawing blood as a distraction during the battle against Victoria. Soteria is the goddess and personification of safety, deliverance, and protection from harm. Deliverance, the action of being rescued or set free, is appropriate since Bella saved Edward from his inner demons as well.

Charlie represents the human laws in Twilight as a police officer. He's calm and more accepting than most (though he has his limits *cough* Edward *cough*). Rhadamanthys was a famously just lawmaker during his mortal life and was appointed as one of the three Judges of the Dead and King of the Elysian Fields after he died.

Renée tends to shift her hobbies and interests from one to another. Horme is the personification of effort and represents setting oneself in motion, and starting an action.

The Volturi

Aro is the current king and ruler of the vampires. He isn't a philanderer, so Zeus was out, but how he murdered his sister, Dinyme, in cold blood to keep Marcus from leaving the Volturi (and thus losing his power) reminds me of Cronus's desperate attempt to thwart his prophesied defeat at the hands of his child. Cronus ate his own children and familicide was one of the worst crimes you could commit in ancient Greece.

Marcus was DEPRESSED after he lost Didyme, his mate. The guy whispered "finally" when his head was about to be ripped off. Penthos is the personification of lamentation and mourning.

Caius is a sadist whose answer for everything is death and destruction. Ares revels in war for its own sake. He delights in the din and roar of battles, in the slaughter of men, and the destruction of towns. When Thanatos (the grim reaper) went missing, and people stopped dying, Ares sulked and famously said: "What's the point of war if no one dies?"

Jane was easy. She experienced such pain when she was burning at the stake that she could wield it with her mind when she became a vampire. Lupe is one of The Algea, who are three sisters that are the personification of pain and suffering - in both body and mind - grief, sorrow, and distress.

Alec's power reminded me of Hypnos, who puts you to sleep before Morpheus gives you dreams. Alec shuts off all of your senses - kind of like turning the off switch.

Sulpicia isn't given much of a personality in canon, and in Life and Death, Smeyer simply turned her into a female Aro by giving her his abilities of tactile telepathy. She deserves more credit; she's incredibly old, and I like to think that while she's locked up in the tower, Sulpicia keeps up with the times by watching the news on TV or reading news articles on the internet. Mnemosyne was the Titan goddess of memory and represented the rote memorization required to preserve the stories of history and myth before the introduction of writing.

Didyme's power was inducing happiness. Euphrosyne was one of the three Charities and the goddess of good cheer, mirth, merriment, and joy.

Athenodora is said to be one of the oldest vampires still walking the earth. We don't know much about her, but I bet she's created a few vampires in her time to keep the species going. Gaia was born at the dawn of creation, and all of the heavenly gods are her descendants.

Corin's addictive power is what persuades the wives and Chelsea to stay content in their imprisonment. You go through severe withdrawal by leaving, but it can be done since Eleazar, whose ability Aro coveted, left with Carmen. Peitho personifies persuasion and seduction - not 100% fitting to Corin's talents but the best I could think of...

Felix is a high-ranking guard and relies on strength and combat techniques to serve his leaders. His physical capabilities are so powerful that he has maintained within the guard for centuries. Alexiares, whose name means unconquerable, is one of two brothers that preside over defense and fortification of Olympus's gate.

Demitri's tracking ability and "Casanova lifestyle" immediately reminded me of Hermes, who is the god of herds, travelers and hospitality, roads and trade, thievery and cunning, heralds and diplomacy. It's fitting because Demitri is also shown to be polite and restrained, but he undoubtedly has a few aces up his sleeves to have survived in the Volturi guard for centuries.

Chelsea's ability to strip people of their emotional ties and forge new ones is unnerving. Ananke was the primordial goddess of necessity, compulsion, and inevitability. She emerged from Chaos fully formed at the beginning of all creation and is thought to be untouchable by all, from mortals and the immortals. She's able to control the fates of other gods and make them slaves to their own urges if she so chooses.

Afton's ability to make himself invisible is not found in any Greek deity, but Hades owns a helmet which is made of darkness and renders the user invisible.

The Denali Coven

Eleazar's ability to see other's potential reminds me of Prometheus's forethought and the unshakable belief he has in the humans Zeus forced him to create.

Carmen is pretty chill and peaceful from what we get to see of her in Breaking Dawn. She isn't overly troubled by the legality of things since she accepts Renesmee, whose existence goes against both the laws of vampires and those of nature, at once. We see that Carmen is maternal and gentle when she asks if she can hold Renesmee. Eirene is the personification of peace, and for Carmen, I interpreted that as personal peace and not upholding the legal system. Statues of Eirene often depict her as a maiden holding the infant Ploutos (Wealth) in her arms.

Kate is OOOLD but not the oldest vampire in existence. Since the power of lightning is solely in Zeus's domain (and Kate isn't a serial rapist), I had to overlook her electric ability. Electricity is used as a source of light, so I think Hemera is a good choice for Kate. She's the primordial goddess of the day and would disperse her mother Nyx's dark mists every morning to bathe the earth in the light from the ether.

Tanya reminds me of the Titaness Eos because they both have an insatiable desire for handsome men. Eos shares Hemera's domain, and later took over her duty of bringing the dawn to earth by opening the gates for Helios's chariot.

Irina thought the Cullens had created an immortal child, which was the outlawed. To her, it seemed like the Cullens thought they were above their laws and reported them to the Volturi accordingly. Nemesis is the goddess who exacted retribution against those who succumb to hubris.

The Irish Coven

Maggie can detect lies. Aletheia's the personification of truth and sincerity.

Siobhan's talent is outcome manipulation, which I assume means she can affect the outcome of some event. Lachesis was the second of the Three Fates. She distributes the 'thread' of a life. "Lanchano" means to obtain by lot, by fate, or by the will of the gods.

The Amazon Coven

Zafrina's ability of visual projection reminded me of Pasithea's past time of inducing hallucinations and relaxation. She was one of the younger Charities but later married Hypnos and now resides with him in the Underworld.  

Kachiri was the first out of the Amazon Coven to be bitten, but she didn't want to be separated from her two best friends, Senna and Zafrina, so she went back and turned them as well. I'm endlessly fascinated by their coven, so I didn't want to separate them here! Macaria is the goddess of "blessed" death which reminded me of how Kachiri came to collect her friends.

Senna is the quiet one, but that might be because she was wary around the Cullens. Gorgyra is a nymph in the Underworld and gave birth to Hade's orchardist. I can see her chilling with Katchiri and Zafrina in her son's orchard.

James’s Coven

James is an asshole. He’s so petty that he couldn't deal with the Cullen's refusal of sharing their meal, so he tricked Bella into coming to him by pretending to have her mother (how would he know who Renée was and wasn't she in Jacksonville??? Use your brain, Bella). Dolos is the personification of trickery, cunning deception, treachery, and guile - so basically, he's a nasty piece of work. He and James deserve each other.

Victoria was the first one I cast. She instantly reminded me of Hera because instead of punishing her husband/mate for his wandering eyes (greedy, in James's case) she goes to great length to punish Edward by trying to kill Bella, who is the innocent one in this whole shitshow. Hera, the goddess of marriage, should have picked a better husband because Zeus already was notorious for panting after every attractive face that came his way before they wed (heck he even cheated on her during their wedding celebration).

Laurent didn't give me a lot to work with since he's only portrayed as a coward. That doesn't seem correct because he came back to warn the Cullen's of James's plans and he later returned to Forks as a favor to Victoria. Epimetheus, the brother of Prometheus, was the Titan god of afterthought and excuses. I think Laurent regretted his decisions in the end, both for having traveled with James, and for having listened to Victoria. He also gave Bella the excuse that he had to kill her since Victoria was his old buddy.

Nomads

Peter was another difficult choice. At first, I thought Thanatos might be a good choice since Peter enjoyed fighting in Maria's army.  Thanatos's gentle touch kills instantly, but Jasper was the one who killed the newborns. Peter fell in love with Charlotte, whose newborn powers eventually expired, but instead of "delivering" Charlotte to her death, Peter told her to run and chased after her. Kharon (Charon) transported the dead across the waters to Hades in his boat but refused those that couldn't pay for the ride.

Charlotte is a survivor. She isn't a fighter by nature, but she made it through the Southern vampire wars alive and then fled with Peter to roam free as a nomad. Nike is the goddess of victory - both in war and in peaceful competition. I think Charlotte conquered all of life's trials and also when it came to love.

Alistair is an ancient hermit. He's suspicious by nature and rather displeased with his lot in life. I don't blame the guy since he was betrayed by his father and as a vampire, the falcons Alistair loved flew away from him in terror. Ouranos was the primordial god of the sky and was later betrayed by his sons.

Garrett was a hotheaded patriot who willingly fought for the colonies' right to self-govern. He was a true believer in the American dream. Menoetius was the god of rash actions and violent rage. The Greek word “menos” means might, force, passion, and battle rage.

Maria isn't a nomad, but I thought I'd include her on the list. She lived in Monterrey with her coven, her mate and two others that were like parents to her, before they were destroyed in the vampire battle for territory. Maria was the only survivor, and she built an army to extract revenge and get her territory back. Poine is the personified spirit of retribution, vengeance, recompense, punishment, and penalty for the crime of murder and manslaughter.

The Egyptian Coven

Benjamin was a tough one because of his elemental powers. The Greek gods divided the four elements between them, so there isn't one deity that has control over them all at once. Phanes was the primordial god of creation in the Orphic cosmogony. He was the generator of life and the driving force behind reproduction in the early cosmos. Phanes hatched from the world-egg, a primordial mix of elements split into its constituent parts. So he sort of had control over the elements at one point before dispersing them among his siblings. (Phanes was later known as Eros).

Tia was a quiet woman but when she did speak her words were insightful, and there was gravity to everything she said. Epiphron was the personification of shrewdness, careful consideration, and sagacity.

Kebi was Amun's slave while she was human. He chose her to become his mate because of her good looks. She was helpless from the start, and we never get to hear her speak or show any indication of being unhappy with her situation. Aporia is the personified spirit of powerlessness, want and difficulty.

Amun was tricky because, to be honest, he's a bastard, but we mustn't forget cultural relativity. Slavery was considered to be a-okay back in the days, and it was probably a fantastic way to keep a vampire's kitchen stocked. Now not so much but Amun doesn't seem like the type to evolve with the times. He's possessive and paranoid, keeping Benjamin locked away in an ivory tower so the Volturi won't come and steal him away as they did to Demitri. He also deprived Kebi of her choices and made her his slave/mate in death as well. Along with ruling death and funeral rites, Hades is also the god of the hidden wealth of the earth, from the fertile soil with nourished the seed-grain to the mined wealth of gold, silver, and other metals. Benjamin is Amun's hidden treasure.

Humans

Jessica is a normal teenage girl. She likes having friends, gossiping, and has a crush on the most handsome boy in school who doesn't return her affections. Echo was much the same; she gossiped, but she wasn't meanspirited, and genuinely wanted to help her friends in the conquest of love. She lied to Hera, who cursed her to have an echo of a voice as punishment for distracting her from Zeus's affairs with her endless chatter. She later fell in love with Narcissus who spurned her affections.

Angela is the sweetest, most kindhearted person we get to meet in Twilight. Philophrosyne is one of the younger Charities and is the personification of friendliness and welcome.

Mike has the hots for Bella. He has an on-and-off relationship with Jessica but only asked her out because Bella told him to. Himeros is the god of sexual desire and the personification of longing, and yearning.

Lauren is jealous of everyone who is pretty, despite being the most popular girl at school. She's also standoffish and snobby. Hybris is the personified spirit of insolence, hubris, violence, reckless pride, arrogance and outrageous behavior in general.

Let me know what you think!

Please don’t repost the pictures without asking for permission first and don’t remove credit!

[awed-frog]

Angst and Feels (Why Fanfiction Matters)

I used to be normal. By which I mean: by the time I was in college, I no longer read children’s books, or even YA. I was too busy, for one thing - I’d spend hours in the library, sometimes cursing at the impossibly difficult stuff I’d been asked to do, but mostly relishing all the new, inspiring things I had the privilege to learn. I was reading about witches, about the use of colours on Greek vases. About Virginia Woolf.

My English, though, wasn’t good enough. Having taken Latin in high school, I knew what a hexameter was but I would define it as a ‘six foots meter’. In the end, one of my professors, mildly exasperated by it all, told me I needed to read more; much more. He suggested YA books, and, since I’d read most classic novels as a child (in translation), I bought a battered second-hand copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. It was 2002. The books had been out for five years, but I knew next to nothing about them.

And, well, it wasn’t always easy to keep up with JK Rowling’s funny, inventive prose, but two days later I stepped through the doors of our English bookstore and bought the other three novels. I’ve been addicted ever since.

But the thing is - I didn’t connect with other fans in any way. Back then (in my country), the internet was still an unfocused, unclear thing. If I remember correctly, I didn’t even have an email address until 2003. Not a proper one, I mean. Not something I used to actually communicate. And there was no one I could discuss Harry Potter with. Ah, is that a children’s book? people would say, and that would be the end of it.

I kept reading the series, though, and when the waiting got too difficult, I gave the internet a second chance. I discovered fanfiction, and that was the beginning of the end.

(No more normal for me. Gone. All gone.)

Because, in the end, we are social, creative animals. Shared stories, like shared memories, bond us together more closely and firmly than anything else ever will.

When Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows finally came out, I happened to be back in my small town for the summer, and I went out at midnight to buy it. It was unheard of - a miracle - that our local bookseller had decided to take part in this crazy initiative, and I didn’t expect anyone to actually be there. Instead, well, some people were. Not many, but it didn’t matter. We were a small crowd of mostly adult readers, some trying to pretend they were passing there by chance, others wearing wizard hats or capes. One girl had a homemade piece of jewelry shaped like the Deathly Hallows symbol. It shone on her chest as she waited for the bookstore to open, silent and somewhat fearful.

I knew exactly how she felt. I was terrified. I didn’t want the series to be over. I was afraid I wouldn’t like the end. I was fearing, most of all, that someone would spoil it for me.

(I had been waiting so long.)

In order to prevent that, I had hatched a detailed, careful, crazy plan: I would go into the mountains, alone, walking from hut to hut and stopping in isolated meadows to read the book in complete solitude. I had given myself two days to finish it, and I had no doubt I would. I am a fast reader, and I’d been craving this one story for two years.

My parents told me I was insane, but it didn’t matter. I went ahead - the book was heavy, so I only packed a few other things - a parka, raisins, a water bottle and an extra pair of socks - added a small notebook on top, and the map, and my clunky mobile phone (turned off), and I left.

I have vague memories of those two days. I barely noticed the landscape around me, because, somehow, it filtered into the one from the novel. It slid in and out of focus, unseen, unremembered.

(A place I’d known since childhood, now invisible around me.)

Like Harry, Ron and Hermione, I walked around in the wilderness, oblivious to both its dangers and its beauty. I was tormented by their doubts and fears; I was hounded by Death Eaters; I was hungry and unhappy. I once hurried through the rain, my mind a thousand miles away, and, as soon as it stopped, I spread out my parka on the unfriendly grass (all sharp with rocks and thistles) and I started reading again, my wet hair slowly dripping on the pages.

I remember very well, however, that by the time I arrived to my second (and final) hut, I hadn’t finished. I was planning to read through the night, but I was still wary of spoilers (and I was right to be: I discovered afterwards our local medias had mentioned it all - Harry’s death; Harry’s resurrection - on that very same day), which is why I kept to myself - a practice much frowned upon in such places. I barely nodded at the friendly-looking couple sitting in front of me for dinner, and I ignored the little family chatting behind us. And, at night, I sat up in my bed (it was too cold to stay in the common room downstairs), turned on my flashlight, and started reading again.

Thinking about it now, it was like the end of childhood all over again: this secret, solitary reading, way past my bedtime, in a room I shared with two other people (strangers).

I was wearing every piece of clothing I had, because it was still bloody cold, but it didn’t matter at all.

(So tired, and yet unable to stop reading. The words flickering a bit in the bluish light.)

And then Snape died.

And I started crying.

I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop. He’d been my favourite character, and, having discovered the books as a grown-up, I’d never seen him as the overbearing, nasty teacher; from the start, I’d been drawn in by his lights and shadows; by the damage which had so clearly been inflicted on a clever, unforgiving man (someone who could have been so much more; someone who, in other circumstances, could have been loved, deeply and unreservedly). I’d been hoping against hope he’d turn out to be Good. And here, spelled out by writing, the most magical of all human inventions, here was everything I’d been wishing for - a compelling, heartbreaking backstory; murder; redemption.

I tried to be silent, but you can’t really cry silently, not like this; not with the kind of sorrow which grips you tight inside and shakes you around like a ragdoll until there’s nothing left of you at all.

I finished the book. I slept about two hours. And when I went down for breakfast (thick bread slices with homemade wild blueberries jam and that generic fruit tea, way too sugary, they always offer you up there) I wasn’t looking at anyone, or seeing anything. I was completely empty; lost inside my own head. Happy and sad and terribly lonely, because this story I’d loved so much was now over.

And then the woman in front of me - someone my own age, perhaps a bit older, who was there with her husband - I’d shared the dorm with them the night before - put her hand very near mine on the table (you do not touch strangers here: it is not done).

“Was it good?” she whispered, and I looked up at her. I was so out of it, I didn’t even realize what she was talking about.

“I saw you with the book last night,” she added, and then did this sort of thing which was on my face as well, this half smile, half frown. “I heard you cry.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t tell me anything. Just - is it good?”

“It’s very good,” I whispered back, my eyes falling down to the table; idly following the knot in the wood which looked a bit like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh God,” she cursed, or prayed, softly, and this time she closed her fingers around my wrist, and I started crying again.

The thing is, I’ve always felt books too deep and too raw. I was that kid who would forget the world around her, wouldn’t hear her mum calling for dinner, wouldn’t go to bed in the evening.

You know the kind. The One more page child. The Let me just finish the chapter child.

What I’d never known, though, was the joy of talking about these stories with someone else.

There was no one else.

Some of my friends read, but not like this; not compulsively. Also, they didn’t care - they wouldn’t cry for a fictional person. They wouldn’t smile all day because someone’s quest had succeeded. They never got upset.

(How?)

And the adults - well, of course they encouraged me; they praised me. But it was still a lonely way to grow up.

(I didn’t mind.)

(I never minded.)

(It’s never just a story, though, is it?)

With Harry Potter, that changed. I’d always written fiction into my own head - I mean: some stories I wrote down (my own), but other stories I just dreamed about (little me, with her courage and fears and that one t-shirt with a horse on it, stepping into all these worlds; making friends with those characters; taking part in their adventures). I never wrote them down, because I could feel they weren’t my stories, not really. They belonged to the real writers; to the people who’d first written them down - Dumas and Ende and Tolkien and Wilde and all those other people. I had no right to -

And then, in my twenties, I discovered that I had the right. Sort of. That other people lay awake at night trying to put it together - why did Snape kill Dumbledore? Is it possible that - or maybe? That it was even allowed, in fact, to discuss these things with each other and be taken seriously. Even more incredibly, it was possible to write stories about it. What would happen to Draco next? What if Hermione got hold of a Time-Turner again? And what about the Marauders and the Seventies - is it possible to change the future by changing the past?

Yes, this is the first reason why I love fanfiction, and why I’m grateful to those invisible writers whose names I never knew - adults and teens and office workers and teachers and stay-at-home mums, all living their (to me) invisible lives, and yet speaking, somehow, directly to my heart and soul. Because they made me feel like it was okay to be like this - to love this so very much.

Something else I’m grateful to fanfiction for, though, is its gentle sneakiness; its joyous underhandedness. It draws you in, doesn’t it, because it seems safe and easy. This is why people sneer at it, after all - because you’re not creating anything. Allegedly. And, well, it is a kind of safety net, isn’t it? I’m just playing with these characters, we used to say; I’m putting them back when I’m done.

(As if we could. As if writing about someone doesn’t make them real to you. As if we didn’t know the truth of it - that you can’t write about people and then put them back, because now you’ve bled all over them, and they are, in a way, yours forever; the good and the bad.)

The reality of it is rather different.

Sure, you do start with a story already written; with fully-fledged characters.

But you don’t know everything, do you? We haven’t seen Dean Winchester’s first day of school. We don’t know what Ron Weasley thought when he walked into a Tesco for the very first time (did he? he must have, at some point). We don’t know if Neal and Peter ever saw each other again. What Mary (Watson) was like as a child.

And yet - yet we are bound by everything else we do know. If we want to write canon fanfiction, which, for many of us, is the goal, we have to be mindful of this.

(We look at how they move - Mary’s secret smile, Dean’s slightly uneven gait. We know what they are like when they’re alone - Neal: dissatisfied, Peter: warily content. We try and mimic the way they do their homework - Ron’s careless spelling; his glib, hasty essays.)

And it is difficult and painful and frustrating, but it is also - I think - the best thing that can happen to you as a writer, because I am starting to realize that a story always has invisible walls (stuff that just can’t happen, no matter how much you wish for it to). It’s these walls, and not the rooms inbetween them, which make a story great. The things you can’t write about. The dialogues that will never happen. The characters who’ll never meet. Your story is right there: in the silences. It stretches into the distance, unseeable, undefined, like that strip of land which is not beach and not sea. A puzzle and a challenge.

(Why is this interesting? Why do we care so much?)

It is not easy to see these walls when you’re writing your own story (not fanfiction, that is: fiction), and it’s very tempting, when you do see them, to just tear them down.

(It's your story, after all.)

Fanfiction teaches you not to.

(Sure, we have the extreme AUs and the There I fixed it things, but, personally, it’s the other things I like. The ones where nobody says anything and yet everybody understands. Cas putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. John looking at Sherlock, then away. The Always. things.)

When you’re writing codas, you can’t ignore what happened in the episode, no matter how painful. When you’re filling a fanfiction gap, you must be mindful of what comes next.

And the walls (these walls you hate and push against until your nails are bloody and your head aches) do make the story more interesting. What Maisie Knew would be a rather dull novel if it were written from the point of view of Maisie’s father. So would To Kill a Mockingbird. And what about Of Mice and Men? A Clockwork Orange? Good novels are built on ordinary stories which are made extraordinary because of the way they are written - just like we are, all of us, living ordinary lives which have been lived a thousand times before, and it is our own hearts and souls and our vision of the world around us which make them extraordinary and new and worth living again. Most novels would simply collapse without this gift writers have - to see the beauty and magic (the heartbreak and the tragedy) in things which are completely, utterly normal.

And writers see other things, as well.

Because, well, I’d thought I wanted a meaningful conversation between Snape and Harry - a lengthy and detailed explanation of everything that had been going on between them. I’d thought I deserved it, after everything. That I had a right to it, even.

What I got were three words (Look...at...me.) - a shared look and a whisper - and God, I’d been so wrong. I’d thought I’d known everything - I knew nothing. Fairness was not the issue - life's not fair - this was sheer poetry, right there. It was, in a remarkably I can’t breathe right now kind of way, everything I’d ever wanted, and more. I hadn’t known I wanted it like that, but JK Rowling had known. She’d known my heart better than I knew it myself, and that is the mark of true writer.

(And there are true writers both in fiction and in fanfiction.)

But, some people may object, what about the porn?

What about it?

Well, it must be said out loud. If normal people (not us; no longer, and not perhaps, ever) have heard of fanfiction at all, they tend to dismiss it as porn, and, indeed, Rule 34 blooms and thrives in our archives as well.

On the other hand, why should this be a bad thing? Who decided (well: we know who; and we also know why) that sex should be shameful? That sexual desire should be secret, and sexual preferences undisclosed and undiscussed? Why is the relationship between a man and a woman, even a relationship which is unloving or abusive or downright unreal, something we’re allowed to have access to, while an MPreg between the Giant Squid and the Archangel Gabriel is not?

(Why is the first one a right of passage and a standard for our real life relationships and something which generates billions of dollars of profit and the second one not normal and never bookmarked and tagged as Seriously, This is Filth, You’ve Been Warned, I Need Jesus?)

Greek mythology is built upon such things, after all, and it blossomed into one of the most astounding periods of human history - fifth-century Athens - a place where, in the space of few short years, Plato and Aristotle and Euripides and Alcibiades worked and lived side by side. A perfect storm of culture and art and beautifully orchestrated politics which still defines most of what we are today.

And yet, look at Theseus’ love life.

(This most great Athenian hero, lord of the sea, destroyer of monsters.)

Theseus/Helen (M/F, Mature, Underage, Non-Con, Kidnapping, Heavy Petting, Fingering, This Is So Sick, I Can’t Believe I’m Writing This); Theseus/Ariadne (M/F, Mature, Dubcon, Kidnapping, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, Sort Of); Theseus/Hippolyta (M/F, Explicit, Enemies-to-Lovers, Dom/Sub, Murder, Major Character Death); Theseus/Phaedra, Phaedra/Hippolytus (M/F, Explicit, Slightly Underage, Major Character Death, Non-Con, Dubcon, Incest If You Squint, Murder By Proxy, Suicide, They’re All Kind Of Assholes, And It’s Great, No Happy Ending, Seriously Don’t Read This If You Like Happy Endings).

Look at Achilles’.

(Oh, Achilles. I have loved you so very much, and I do love you still.)

Achilles/Patroclus (M/M, Teen And Up, Angst And Feels, Topping From The Bottom, Established Relationship, SO MUCH PAIN); Achilles/Penthesilea (M/F, Explicit, Major Character Death, Dubcon, First Kiss, Enemies-to-Lovers, Necrophilia, Blood-Soaked Pagan Manpain, Can You Spoil The End Of A Series That’s Been Finished For Two Decades?).

And, of course, we have to mention the gods.

Zeus, for instance.

Zeus/Leda (M/F, Explicit, Zoophilia, Non-Con, I Actually Watched Videos Of Swans Mating For This, Author Is Sleep-Deprived); Zeus/Alcmene (M/F/M, Sort Of, Explicit, Dubcon, Issues Of Consent, Theological Stuff, T Is For Trash, Frustratingly Vague Magical Realism); Zeus/Ganymede (M/M, M/F, Mature, Underage, Dubcon, Zeus Is An Eagle But They Have Sex As Humans, Mentions Of Slavery, Light Dom/Sub Play); Zeus/Semele (M/F, Mature, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Death, MPreg, Loads of Angst, Like Wow); Zeus/Other (I’m So Sorry He’s Gonna Fuck Everyone At Some Point).

(Those were actual AO3 tags, by the way, and also perfectly adequate summaries for most of the classical literature we know. I mean, don’t get me started on Apuleius’ Metamorphoses.)

If people want to write PWP because they want to, er, have fun and, er, make other people happy, I say let them. They’re not hurting anyone. They’re also taking back control from more traditional sources of, er, joy.

(Things whose goal is to generate money; things which tend to perpetuate the status quo and enforce it, and which are not, therefore, art. Things we need to take control back from, because we’ll never be rid of them and everybody masturbates and it’s a joyous and relaxing activity and it’s time we talked about it.)

But from what I see in the community - sure, the PWP is appreciated after a long day at the office, and it’s fun (and oh so challenging) to write (those published authors who keep getting Bad Sex awards should have a look at AO3 and see how it’s done), but what keeps people coming back is what will always keep people coming back: everything else.

The painful, heartwrenching, slow-burn stories.

The case stories; the adventure stories.

The what if AUs.

The My life is so unbearable right now, please give me something else to think about stories.

The idea that books can save your life is not new - I loved Arabian Nights, but it was another novel, Fred Uhlman’s Beneath the Lightning and the Moon, which really did it for me - the idea, brought forward by this German Jew writer who’d witnessed three wars, that (when all’s said and done) everything we are is just that - stories. That’s what keeps us from going mad - the stories we tell each other. The stories we tell ourselves.

And this is what will be remembered after we pass away.

We’re all stories, in the end.

(Just make it a good one, eh?)

And the other reason I am grateful to fanfiction and I love fanfiction and I will defend it to the death - well, that’s way more political.

In the years since that day in the mountains, I’ve kept reading and writing and studying. I am now a fanfiction writer myself. I’ve also been strongly encouraged - even ordered, one would say - to keep up with the news obsessively, because of my job (I am an interpreter). Which I do. For the same reason, I listen to a variety of things - political debates, scientific conferences, TED talks, podcasts about anything and everything. And, well, what is happening in the world isn’t - mostly - very encouraging. More people fleeing their homes. More people fighting. More people burning down trees and keeping employees into unhealthy factories and forcing livestock into pitiful conditions so the rest of us can thrive in gilded abundance.

One thing, though, gives me hope; one thing I’m awed by.

Three in four people can now read and write. Two in four are connected to the internet. Two in five speak English (which, I should specify, isn’t per se a sign of advancing civilization, but still means we have an eye-watering widespread lingua franca).

Which means that for the first time in the whole of human history, we can communicate with each other, and we can do it instantly. We can share opinions and photos and feelings. Everywhere, anytime, with anyone.

(Almost.)

And we are (perhaps too slowly; perhaps not enough) taking control of how information is spread. Of which information is spread.

People were wary of online content in the beginning (I remember this well; I was one of them); they (we) feared that anyone could say anything. That it would become more difficult to tell apart fact from fiction.

(We scoffed at the idea of an open source, user-generated encyclopedia; and look at us now.)

And, yes, it’s not perfect. There are quack bloggers and fake things all over the internet; propaganda and paranoia and scams. Then again, it was never perfect. Humans are peculiar creatures. We feed on wishful thinking and lies. This will never, I think, change. The internet has little to do with it.

But, on the other hand, the internet is also exposing lies. It’s making it more difficult for governments to hide things, and for a handful of media (of rich people) to control what we know about an event - because there’s always someone else there. There will always be at least one other person there - on the site of an explosion, in the middle of a political rally, in a city under siege - someone who will tweet or facebook share what is actually going on. What blew me away, for instance, is what happened recently at the COP21 in Paris: there was one very important meeting the press hadn’t been given permission to attend, and two random students from New Zealand - who were there as representatives of some youth movement - live-blogged the entire thing, including personal comments, memes and reactions gifs, through a Google document.

Hashtag Imagine Yalta, one could say.

And, well, I think fanfiction plays a role in all this.

Now, I’m not a fanfiction expert of any description, and I’m not a researcher - I’ve only seen this happening because I got obsessed with Supernatural and I started poking here and there on the internet - I write stories about the show, and the occasional meta, but I also love to read other people’s analyses, which means I lurk around on tumblr - and I have the feeling something special is unfolding. We are slowly learning to reject a system based on privilege and competition and I paid for my knowledge, go get your own to embrace a more egalitarian, inspiring model; a Here is what I know, because this my area of expertise, please enjoy and leave a comment and tell me something I don’t know in exchange. I read metas about the use of colours and props and lighting. I read an AU Destiel story where they are both actors which had footnotes - footnotes - explaining how the job works. I learned about botany and the American school system and classical music. I stumbled upon a blog for writers where you could just ask, One of my characters is an African-American girl who grew up in Detroit in the 1990s. Anyone here knows what that was like? - and someone would answer, share tiny details of their own life so someone else’s words would ring more true.

What’s happening is, we’re taking back our content. We’re saying, creating stories isn’t the prerogative of big corporations. It’s about people sitting in a circle and weaving magic for each other. For free. Because it gives us joy and sorrow, and we need them both (so much).

And, perhaps even more importantly, by analysing books and movies and shows and animes and mangas so very carefully, by writing (and reading) stories about them, I feel we are learning to think more clearly. We are seeing what works and what doesn’t in a story. We are training each other to read and understand subtext. Those of us who were lucky enough to have great teachers - people who taught us how to see the box, and how to think outside it - are encouraging others to go beyond the standard I liked it, I hate it, I meh. To ask why. And - even - to ask cui bono.

Because this is, the way I see it, the beating heart of everything. Our societies are built and maintained by stories. The best storytellers control it all. It’s that simple.

Money is, perhaps, the most successful of those stories - the idea that paper money, or even coins, are worth anything at all, is the pinnacle of human storytelling. A miracle of fiction.

And also politics, of course. Now, there are other factors which come into play here - most notably, this indefinable like/dislike thing we have around people, that feeling we all have instinctively (which has to do, perhaps, with smell or symmetry or some hormonal madness); this thing perhaps best expressed by the Would you buy a used car from this man? phenomenon. It’s messy and complicated and very often a gut feeling we should or shouldn’t trust.

I’m not saying that words are everything.

On the other hand, there is more to words than we know. Recent research has shown, for instance, a clear link between hexameters and an area of the brain which usually lights up around addictive foods and drugs. As far as I understand it, what they did was read epic poetry to people - the language didn’t even matter - they read Homer, in Greek, to people who’d never heard the language before - and this thing, the simple alternation between long and short syllable in a precise, well-structured way - our brains react to that. Our brains say, Like. Our brains say, More.

Good writers, and good politicians, never needed the study to be carried out. They knew about it already. If you analyse advertisements and novels and political propaganda and speeches, you’ll find plenty of hexameters.

But the idea that not only they sound nice, but that they actually prey on your brain - they touch you in a way you are not aware of being touched - that’s powerful stuff.

Language is powerful stuff.

(It runs the world.)

And, in my opinion, reading and writing is the best way to make it ours; to understand it better, so it cannot be used against us.

This is why places like AO3 are not only entertaining - they are revolutionary. They represent a community of tens of thousands of people coming together and changing the world in the only way we truly can change the world: by changing ourselves first. By making ourselves better, smarter, more aware.

So hold your heads up. Keep caring about stories, keep writing and reading them all (even the coffeeshop AUs; even the tentacle porn). Be bold. Be joyous. Be free.

And thank you, for everything.

[If you’re curious about my fics, here is my AO3 page. Hi!]

[treacherycuphq]

I’m really interested in taking a star player / exploring a “fame monster” dynamic but I don’t want to step on a moderator’s toes - can you guys give some ideas as to how we can explore that without feeling like we’re stealing plots?

FIRST OFF - WE WANT TO SINCERELY THANK YOU FOR THIS QUESTION. IT WAS VERY COURTEOUS OF YOU TO REACH OUT WITH THIS, BECAUSE IT SHOWS YOU'VE READ OVER THE SAMPLE APP AND ENOUGH SKELES TO GET A GENERAL LAYOUT OF CHARACTER TRAJECTORIES & WERE ABLE TO IDENTIFY AN OVERLYING CONNECTION. WE APPRECIATE THE LEVEL OF CRITICAL THINKING THAT OCCURRED FOR THIS QUESTION. I'M ( MOD S ) GOING TO ASSUME THIS IS IN CONJUNCTION WITH MY CHARACTER, MARLENE, SO I'M GOING TO FINISH ANSWERING IT.

WE'VE MADE SEVERAL "STAR PLAYER" SKELES FOR THE PURPOSE OF "FAME MONSTER" EXPLORATION PLOTS, SO I WOULDN'T BE CONCERNED WITH "STEALING" ANYTHING FROM ME ! I PERSONALLY SEE THE CONCEPT OF FAME AS A MULTI-HEADED BEAST, AND DIFFERENT ASPECTS / SCENARIOS THAT ARE BORN FROM IT WOULD AFFECT CHARACTERS IN DIFFERENT WAYS. OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD, I KNOW AUGUSTUS ROOKWOOD, LUDOVIC BAGMAN, LUCINDA TALKALOT, AND EMMA VANITY ARE PRETTY CODED TOWARD "FAME MONSTER" PLOTS OUT OF THE QUIDDITCH PLAYERS. UNDER THE READ MORE CUT, I'M GOING TO LIST SPECIFIC PLOTS I'D LOVE TO SEE !

( SINCE THIS QUESTION SPECIFICALLY MENTIONED 'STAR PLAYERS,' I'M GOING TO FOCUS ON THEM, BUT I 100% SUPPORT THE FAME MONSTER PLOTS APPLYING TO OTHER CHARACTERS, OUTSIDE OF QUIDDITCH, AS WELL ! )

First, you need to address some key "Fame" thematics, before you tap into the monster portion:

Who was your character before they became famous, and who have they become because of the spotlight?

Does your character put on a facade for their public personality, or do they present themselves authentically for public consumption?

If they use a fake public personality, what do they do with the emotional dissonance of pretending to be somebody they're not? Does it affect their private relationships? How do they cope?

If they present themselves authentically, do they maintain healthy boundaries with the public? Can they separate their inner perspective versus the public perception of them? What happens when these two versions don't match up?

Do they have an ability to change back to who they were before fame, or has the appeal of the spotlight changed them, for better or for worse?

The "monster" portion of the fame monster trope really rests in your character responding to a slew of these circumstances negatively - similarly to a "bridezilla," the definition doesn't fit if it's not born of antagonism, y'know?

With all of that in mind, here's a non-exhaustive list of everything I could come up with re: alternate "fame monster" plots / dynamics that don't have any effect whatsoever over me & my current musings.

PLOTS:

BEST OF THE BEST OF THE BEST OF THE...: No one can be flawless forever. No one can be the best until they die. The best is the best until... what? Typically, we see the end of powerful reigns because something else begins to matter more: love, money, power, friendship, self-preservation, addiction, and anonymity are all well-known and valid reasons to finally break ties with the fame monster. Maybe your character did, and is dealing with the fallout from the limelight; maybe your character is about to, but is still trying to figure out what's worth leaving the fame monster behind.

THE LIFESTYLES OF THE RICH & FAMOUS: saying your character has adjusted to their celebrity status would be an understatement; they've flourished beneath the limelight, and now have a personal assistant, an agent, and a public relations manager to help offset even the barest inkling of a bad image. Heck, they've been famous for so long, they barely remember what life was like before - they've become someone that's lost their connection to their roots. However, that's all about to change... because where's the fun in not fracturing everything a person knows, for the sake of conflict?

ICARUS' LANDING: oh how high we fly! oh how far we fall ! your character has found themselves in a typical Icarian tragedy - their fame is hinged on the exploitation of their worst hubris, and they won't stop trying to succeed until it's far too late. Try as they damnedest to touch the sun and dazzle in its spotlight, so too will they find their end and burn beneath its brilliance; whatever your character is using to find fame, they will overindulge and find themselves plummeting toward normality far sooner than they'd ever think.

FAN BASE FAVOR: your character has fallen into the monotony of catering to their fan bases' every wish & whim, creating a public version of themselves that's simultaneously overly enthusiastic & underwhelming. That means that they constantly stop for pictures or autographs, to the point of near compulsion. If they're always willing & able to provide for their fans, what does that mean in terms of their public identity? Are they constantly putting on a show, in case fans are nearby? Do they feel invalidated if fans aren't screaming for their attention at all times? Do they lose hours upon hours responding to fan mail? How do the other people in their lives feel about this exhaustive fan service?

STARRING IN THE SHADOWS: your character's parent was famous, to a high enough caliber that their star power has created an everlasting shadow over your own reputation; nothing you do, nothing you say will keep them from being mentioned in the next sentence. But fame has sunk its teeth into you, and your left with two complex paths: do you cede under their spotlight, and hope it bolsters your own? Or do you try anything to break out of their typecast, and make a name for yourself, outside your family ties? More importantly, does anyone else in the world care? Do you talk about your complex relationship with your own privilege, or let sleeping dogs lie?

MY OWN WORST ENEMY: your character has a complicated relationship with hedonism; whether it be romantic entanglements, illicit substances, or general gluttony of all things sin, they compulsively indulge, with little to no discipline. Regardless of outside intervention, your character partakes time & time again, refusing help for what they don't see as a problem, just a "good time." There's only so long this lifestyle can be catered to, however, before they gain a level of notoriety that blackballs them from the famous circles they were once included in.

DANCING WITH YOUR HANDS TIED: your character has feelings for a certain someone, but is unable to act on it, thanks to their celebrity status. Maybe you're trying to exploit the pureblood/muggleborn dynamic? Maybe their interest rests on someone outside the public eye? Maybe that person has no interest in being brought into the public eye, making your celebrity status the difference between having or losing that special person? Can your character let go of the validation of many for the love of one? Do they even have a choice - stepping out of the public eye doesn't automatically free you from being a celebrity, ask any former child star !

DYNAMICS:

OBSESSIONS & CONFESSIONS: your character may be too famous, as they're currently trying to sidestep a stalker - or "obsessed fan," depending on your definition. Either way, no one enjoys invasions of your property or your privacy - does your character confront the stalker directly, in an attempt to gain their sympathy? Or do they take increasingly ludicrous measures in an attempt to ward them off? Maybe, they enjoy the newfound level of attention, and begin to build a complicated relationship with them?

CHASE YOU DOWN UNTIL YOU LOVE ME: Paparazzi, baby ! Love to hate them or hate to love them, the physical entity that is tabloid publication follows you around wherever you go. Does your character love the constant audience, or crave the solace of anonymity? Is the paparazzi better or worse than the rest of the world's consumption of you? Does one person in particular rile you up for the sake of a juicy photograph, leading to a cumbersome antagonism that's almost targeted at you? Does their presence give your character confidence or anxiety? Maybe your character gets on good terms with one of their paid stalkers, and hatches a scheme to always be on the front page in exchange for the juiciest weekly scoop? Maybe your character is trying to use the paparazzi to increase their celebrity status, which hasn't been fully realized yet?

PEOPLE I DON'T LIKE: there's nothing wrong with making famous friends for the sake of gaining more fame, but Lord, doesn't it get cumbersome constantly trying to please people you barely even like? The photographs may seem favorable enough, but behind closed doors & velvet ropes, these people are NOT your friends - but then what are they? And honestly, is anyone really your friend anymore? What defines friendship, in a world where the flashing light will always mean more than the people standing in front of it?

UPPER MANAGEMENT: all celebrities hit a streak of their pride where they become more eggheaded than egg-ceptional - whether your character is the celebrity or their support staff, the high horse of the limelight has finally caused a conflict between what you think you deserve & what you currently receive. Whether you're demanding a new agent, coach, assistant, or some other ludicrous proclamation, this sudden inflation of your ego has done nothing but piss off the people around you. Congrats ! Now it's time to deal with the fall out of your holier-than-thou expectations.

ASSIST ME: a niche dynamic of the one presented above, this deals with the relationship between star & personal assistant, and the synchrony needed to sail an exceptionally famous ship. Is the assistant good at their job? Is the star judgmental & opinionated, with unrealistic expectations? What does the personal assistant get from this dynamic? How does it further their career? Do they only do it out of contractual obligation to their client, or does their relationship with their assigned celebrity go far deeper than that?

SELL OUT YOUR HEART: your character wakes up one day to find that somebody close to them has leaked explicit information to the press about you. However, this source is left "anonymous." What does your character do? Do they root out the imposter, who sold their personal information for a quick dime? Do they want to know the identity of the perpetrator? Is it actually a betrayal in their eyes, or a product of their work? Or maybe your character picked out someone in their group who exclusively leaks these pockets of information for the sake of bolstering your reputation?

THE BOJACK HORSEMAN PLOT: your character has been playing the fame game long enough that the public has begun the enamored catcalls for a book about your life ! Your character's agent places them with a well-respected ghost writer to get things started; does your character enjoy their time with the writer, or do they find them judgmental / opinionated over your character's past? Does the writer respect your character's vision, or expect them to bend to narrative style of a story? Do they ruminate on ideas that your character finds hit a little too close to home, or maybe they won't write what your character wants at all? Does your character treat their sessions like therapy? Does it force them to confront deep personal issues & views they'd never questioned before? Or do they simply finish the endeavor & send them off, without ever thinking about their ghost writer again? Do they build a relationship with one another, or does it begin & end with work?

FAKE DATING AU: pretty self-explanatory & a fan favorite, especially for celebrity characters !

BODYGUARD AU: also self-explanatory & a personal favorite !!

[level3bird]

the synapse gang

I backed my car into one of my spousal unit’s bicycles this morning in the garage. The bike fared very well with no noticeable damage; the car, unfortunately, got a small dent and a 4” scratch on the rear hatch door. I am not pleased. Our car is only a little over a year old and has less than 7900kms (4900 miles) on it. We’ve kept it new as and now I’m aggravated.

Ugh. Do over please.

I also woke up craving carbs.

This is only day 2 of the new HFLC eating plan that we’re due to be on indefinitely. After being diagnosed with liver disease and told that I must do something drastic if I want to reverse it (while I still can), it was suggested by my lovely doctor that I go low carb. A medical suggestion that struck fear into this little processed-foods loving soul. I’m the girl with the “I never met a carbohydrate I didn’t like” fridge magnet. So, seriously?

Nevertheless, because I don’t want to die early and sick like my mother did and I don’t want to be diabetic and I’d like to have more energy and less inflammation in all my joints, here I am measuring macros and avoiding carbs like they are cocaine.

Actually, I think avoiding carbs is harder than avoiding cocaine. At least, for me, sugar and carbs have proven to be stronger adversaries than all the pearly powder I lived to ingest. I mean, I am an emotional/comfort/boredom eater and I have consumed sugar and flour and processed white foods like it was my job. And I’ve got to eat, right?

I know there is also a psychological component that is most likely much more powerful than the physical component. Although, I can attest to a physical component as well. I’m sure some of you can relate to the low sugar vapours that you get when you haven’t had your crystalline fix. As such, I’m sure that the carb flu is on its way and from a physical perspective, I’ll have to hunker down to not spontaneously combust over this sugar detox business.

As for the psychological part of it, Jesus take the wheel! I’m reciting the Serenity Prayer on the regular and hoping that I’ll find a Sponsor who’ll be able to put up with my flavour of crazy. It’s complicated.

Last week, as part of the “Observation” phase of the Real Meal Revolution, the HFLC program I’m due to be on for at least a year, I tracked all that I ate and was surprised/not surprised to learn that I was eating about 10-15x the amount of carbohydrates a day that I should be. My macros basically came out to “all carbs, all the time.” I am a fiend for white powders, go figure.

I’ve known that I’ve had disordered eating for quite some time, but haven’t wanted to really look at the causes or the consequences of it. It has been easy to be in denial about it. I’m 5’11” and a corn-fed country girl and I’ve always carried the excess weight relatively well. And despite having been told by a prisoner when I worked as a guard at TDCJ that I looked like I could wrestle bears, I really haven’t had an issue with my size. Yes, I’m not thrilled I’m a size 22 (be happy to be a size 14/16 though), but I’ve always thought that fluffy was sexy and my beloved hasn’t ever complained about the curves.

So, it wasn’t really my Rubenesque size that threw the switch. It was science, first, and getting honest with myself, second. The results from the medical tests were confronting, the achy joints were bothersome and the getting out of breath easily was concerning, but it was the inability to stop turning to food for comfort that really got my attention. It was the constant ‘how do I avoid any feelings, for fuck’s sake I need an Aero Mint Chocolate bar or I might die’ moments that left me with no doubt that I’m as addicted to carbohydrates/sugar/super processed foods as much so, if not more, than I was addicted to cocaine and benzos.

Everything revolves around changing the way I’m feeling or avoiding having feelings. I couldn’t be more textbook if I tried. The shit gets real and I want to shove a lot of shitty food right in my pie-hole to numb me. Of course, I’ve ignored the obvious for a long time because I had the fallback position that at least I wasn’t hoovering up the Bolivian Marching Powder anymore or spending three/four days a week sat at a pill mill waiting for the beautiful trifecta.

This HFLC business is going to be a challenge, but I think, I hope, that I am up for it. And where I am lacking, I will throw myself into the program of Narcotics Anonymous to help me help myself. I know that addiction, a soul sickness that I have/had, is the problem and the rest is commentary on the problem. No different than the spending or the need for this tablet or that tablet or a few tablets to get me to sleep at night. It is all much of a muchness for someone like me.

The dots connect easily enough when you have no coping skills to fall back on or when you’re able to rank your various traumas on a scale of ‘that’s shit’ to ‘scorched earth’. Not an excuse, only an observation.

I woke about 4am this morning from a nightmare. It was one of those theme dreams that I periodically have - me and my father in some huge argument over something, raised voices, mean words, violence on the horizon. In this dream, I was in public, out on some type of outdoor plaza and there were lots of folks around and my father was reading me the riot act. In the dream, he was shouting so loud and saying the cruellest things, as he usually did in real life. I was being kicked out of my house or berated for being a shit parent or something like that. There are always variations on this dream, but they all follow the same general plot and I wake up stressed off my tits in a panic, feeling like I need to run, to get away.

I’ve had enough of them over the years that, fortunately, when they happen now, I wake up, have a look around, reach out and touch my husband and ground myself. I repeat a little mantra in my head that my beloved started back when the PTSD and nightmares were a holy terror – I say my address to myself. Tim used to calm me down when I was having the panic or the tears or just slipping away into dissociation by asking me where I was right at that moment. His point, I suppose, was to bring me back out of wherever it was that I’d disappeared to and to make me feel secure in the present moment where there wasn’t a threat or a traumatic memory. It still helps. I was able to get up and get some water and go back to sleep with little fanfare.

The thing is, it is all connected.  The nightmare, the carb cravings, the overwhelming feelings of loserdom that washed over me when I dinged the car. The little librarian in charge of the card catalogue of my mind is so adept at running through the file drawers in nano-seconds to be able to flag every incident where I’ve felt powerless, worthless, like an idiot or a failure. She can flag all the memories of fear and of violence, of need and desperation. And it is as if there is an invisible string connecting these associated memories and they are tied to the simplest of daily events and when something happens, like me bumping the car into the bike in the garage, the string is suddenly pulled tight and up goes every memory, strung across my mind like an evil version of Tibetan prayer flags.

I’ve always thought of it like my synapses were ganging up on me. Which is a logical observation. Unfortunately, when it happens, the dreaded ‘feelings’ occur and those are what I wish to avoid at all cost. I’m having to learn all over again how to sit with them and let them pass. It is not my strong suit.

Those unwanted feelings and their causative memories are the rallying cry to activate my addictions. And I think they are why I need a program for living, which for me, needs to be the 12-steps.

Working a program gives me a view as to how I get overwhelmed and how things devolve into chaos. It can give me the good sense to realise that my best intentions and well-laid plans don’t really and haven’t really worked for me. The steps show me that I need to be able to let go of the death grip I’ve always had on trying to control the uncontrollable – those things I cannot change. Working the steps and going to meetings keep me level and sane. I hear other people share their experiences and I see myself in them and I feel less alone. I listen to the way other people have dealt with the situations that vex me and that gives me an opportunity to try things another way. Going to Narcotics Anonymous helps me to get and stay honest with myself, gives me the tools I need to clear away the flotsam and jetsam so that I can see myself and my actions with clarity. Because, without that, I can’t make things better. I see my part in it all and the way I contribute to the festering of old wounds instead of the repair and healing of them.

And, if nothing else, it gives me hope that there is hope for me yet. It plants a flag in front of me that bears promises:

We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.

We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.

We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace.

No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.

That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.

We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.

Self-seeking will slip away.

Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.

Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.

We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.

We will suddenly realize that [our Higher Power] is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

The program assures me, put in the work, and your life can be good, it can be (as they say) happy, joyous and free. 

And I need to be reminded of that, especially when the Synapse Gang gets on my tail.

[razieltwelve]

Memory (Final Rose)

This is set far in the future of a Penny x Ruby x Weiss AU.

X     X     X

“Ma'am, we’re on our final approach to Lumina Prime.”

Penny blinked and then nodded in thanks. There were certain places in the galaxy that always filled her with a sense of nostalgia. This was one of them. It was also home to one of the few entities in the galaxy that could truly understand her.

“Thank you.” She stood. “Please, tell the pilot to open the one of the hatches. I’ll go the rest of the way myself.”

The member of presidential security nodded. “Understood, ma’am. We’ll see you down there.” He paused. “The usual place?”

“Yes.” Her lips twitched. “Although you might be better off waiting for me at the university. He’s never been particularly fond of outsiders.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Take care, ma’am. Let us know if you need anything.”

X     X     X

Penny took a moment to savour the sight before her. Lumina Prime was a truly beautiful world. From low-orbit, she had a perfect view of its pristine oceans, thriving forests, soaring mountains, and rolling plains. Her sensors zeroed in on a particular location: a strip of white sand alongside lush gardens and cosy beach houses.

Firing off a quick burst of data to inform the crew of her intentions, she leapt out of the hatch and then ordered it to close. For a few seconds, she let gravity take hold of her. The planet’s atmosphere glowed against her skin as she picked up speed, but her smile never wavered. She was far, far too durable for anything as minor as atmospheric re-entry to bother her.

Instead, she continued to let herself fall, using only minor adjustments from her inertial manipulators to adjust her trajectory. It was only after she’d dropped below thirty thousand feet that she finally began to slow her descent. The gentle touch of countless sensor sweeps brushed against the edges of her awareness.

This was Lumina Prime, the sacred home of the Dia-Farron. Had she been an enemy, she would have found herself targeted by enough fire power to turn entire solar systems to dust, to say nothing of the cyber-warfare that would have been unleashed. As it was, the descendants of one of her creators simply sent their greetings in the form of happy hamster emojis before informing her that her old friend was already aware of her arrival and was waiting for her at the usual place.

She chuckled. Professor Dia would have been amused by the use of hamster emojis, especially since many of them were of her beloved pet hamster, Professor Cuddles. The most adorable and cuddly of all hamsters had a great many descendants, but Penny had always believed that none of them had ever quite been able to match him.

She twisted in mid-air as she approached the ground, and her inertial manipulators worked in perfect unison with her gravity engines and momentum displacement units to slow her to a complete stop just as her feet touched the perfectly cut grass.

Naturally, that didn’t stop her old friend from sending the equivalent of a glare her way before telling her to get off the damn grass.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” Penny allowed herself to float an inch off the grass. The lawnmower’s sensors swept over the grass she’d stepped on briefly before settling on her. She allowed him to check her for any signs of damage. 

He would never admit that he cared, but it was still something he did each time they met. Unlike him, she still took a fairly active role in galactic politics. Damage was therefore a possibility. Anyone who wanted to harm him would have to fight through some of the most powerful defences in the entire galaxy. That wasn’t to say he was helpless. On the contrary, the Dia-Farron and their original creator had seen to it that he was stupidly overpowered to the point that even a standard synthetic would be hard-pressed to dent him, never mind actually destroy him.

Seemingly satisfied by what he saw, the lawnmower trundled toward the beach, signalling for her to follow him. Out of the corner of her optical sensors, she noticed several Dia-Farron children and their friends playing happily on the grass he’d just mowed. The fact that they were making a mess of it didn’t seem to bother him. Well, he’d always been fond of children, and although he’d probably give them a stern lecture later, they both knew he didn’t really care. Heck, she’d seen him give children rides before although he’d claimed it was because they were too slow to keep up, so he was really just doing himself a favour.

“How have you been?” Penny asked.

The lawnmower’s reply came in more than words. It was a complex burst of information that only another machine could possibly understood. It included not only words but also images, other sensory data, and even a series of equations.

In short, he was doing well. The gardens were in pristine condition, and he was planning on putting in some new plants to better show off the changes of season. He was also working on the beach. He was keen to sculpt the area off shore to promote the growth of a coral reef, and he had plans to improve the population of fish nearby while increasing the diversity of marine life in general.

It wasn’t what a normal lawnmower would have done, but he was more than capable of it. Besides, there was something satisfying about watching the local environment thrive. He’d also never had a chance to sculpt a coral reef before. He was curious to see how it would go.

His transmission finished with an inquiry about her own status.

Penny replied in a similar fashion. 

Her most recent priorities had been handling the upcoming nuptials of the current president of the Schnee Mercantile Alliance. Weiss IX was very similar to her namesake in that she was both extremely organised but also prone to worrying that she had not organised enough. It did not help that the bride-to-be was engaged to Anna, the second princess of the Arendelle Empire.

No screw ups were allowed. Everything had to go exactly as planned.

Cue in major freaking out when Weiss realised that she hadn’t taken into account the fact that Anna’s loyal Imperial hedgehog, Lord Spikebatten would be attending in full military dress... at his full size.

Yeah.

A hedgehog the size of a tank was not an easy guest to fit into a wedding ceremony, but it was apparently customary for him to attend in that form rather than his smaller more adorable one. 

Penny, though, had done her best to soothe the president’s frazzled nerves. The venue was more than large enough to accomodate Lord Spikebatten, and things like seating could easily be adjusted to avoid any mishaps. More importantly, the wedding was still months away, which meant they had more than enough time to work out any kinks in planning.

Setting aside the upcoming wedding, most of Penny’s attention had been devoted to dealing with the newest generation of synthetics. 

As the very first synthetic, Penny was practically a god to her kin, as much as it disturbed her. Admittedly, the first generations synthetics saw her as more of an older sister (Penny was considered zeroth generation), but even the second generation had viewed her with equal parts awe and affection.

Still, it was important that the newest generation be raised properly. A synthetic was enormously powerful, so even one going rogue could be devastating. Fortunately, the Dia-Farron and their allies had been raising synthetics for centuries. As eccentric as they could be, they had a knack for it, and Penny and the older synthetics were happy to help.

It was also soothing. As happy as Penny was that one of her descendants was getting married - and she considered all of the people descended from Ruby and Weiss as her descendants despite the lack of actual blood ties - it was also bittersweet. Weiss IX looked so much like her ancestor, and Penny’s memories never faded.

She could still remember that time she’d spent with Ruby, Weiss, and their family like it was yesterday. Waking up beside the two other women had been a joy, and raising their children had been a blessing greater than any she could have asked for.

Sensing her sadness, the lawnmower huffed and gestured at the sand. There was a festival coming up, and he was supposed to prepare some sand sculptures for it. Instead of moping, she should make herself useful and give him a hand since, technically speaking, she was the only one out of them who actually had hands.

Penny chuckled. She knew what he was trying to do, and she appreciated the effort. Glancing at the sand, she decided to avoid using any of her more esoteric powers. Instead, she’d do things the only fashioned way.

“Come on.” Penny rolled up her sleeves. “What do you think of building a replica of Beacon Academy from Remnant?”

X     X     X

Luxa Dia-Farron grinned. “Not bad. It looks just like the pictures.”

Penny laughed. “Well, I suppose it’s not completely accurate since they added a few things after I was a student there.”

Luxa’s grin widened, and she pointed, her hamster giving an impressed squeak as he noticed the detail too. “You’ve even got a tiny sand Diana perched outside one of the dorm room windows.”

“She did that a lot,” Penny said. “She thought it was funny testing people’s security. Weiss used to find it so aggravating, but since she often came with cookies, Ruby always let her in.”

“Ah, that legendary cookie addiction of hers.” Luxa walked around the sand sculpture. “I haven’t started work on mine yet, but I was thinking of doing a replica of the professor’s lab.”

It went unspoken which professor she meant. It could only ever refer to her ancestor Professor Oerba Dia Vanille.

“You’re going to need a lot of sand,” Penny replied. “The lab was already quite extensive in those days. In fact, it was technically larger than Beacon itself, not that most people knew that.”

“We Dia-Farron don’t do things halfway.” Luxa gestured, and a drone settled itself into position to serve as a chair. “So... what’s on your mind? You don’t normally come to visit unless you’ve got something on your mind.”

Penny twitched. It was eerie how many of the professor’s descendants shared her same knack for cutting right to the heart of a matter. “I visit regularly.”

“Yeah... because you have something on your mind regularly.” The lawnmower added his own thoughts to the matter, and the Dia-Farron chuckled. “Yep. He’s right. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

“I suppose I’ver never been one for sneakiness.” Penny sat in mid-air. “The wedding.”

“Ah. Right. Living basically forever can be rough, I guess.” Luxa settled her hamster onto her lap. The little fellow immediately began to munch on a treat. “Now, I’m not going to insult you by offering any advice. I don’t know what it’s like to live in your shoes, and I’m not even going to pretend to understand how you must feel. But I will say this. I don’t think you’re wrong.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. A lot of entities who live as long as you grow detached from the world. They get hurt every time someone they care about dies, so they stop caring about people to stop from getting hurt. It makes sense, and I won’t blame anyone who chooses that route. But you haven’t. You keep caring, which means you keep getting hurt, but I think you’re happier that way.”

“I am.” Penny never wanted to stop caring about other people. That would be worse than being dead. “Caring about other people... it’s worth it.” She thought back to another conversation, so many, many years ago with Professor Dia. “Someone smart once told me that caring about people would hurt because I’d outlive all of them, but it would be worth it. That the pain of losing someone wouldn’t ever go away, but neither would the joy of knowing them, and that not knowing them in the first place, living a life without them, would be far worse.”

“Sounds like good advice.”

“It’s some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten.” Penny’s lips twitched. “The professor told me that.”

“She did, did she?” Luxa chuckled. “It sounds like something she would say. After all, she outlived everyone else in her generation from the Age of Heroes.”

“I like to think that even Death was afraid of trying to deal with her. I wouldn’t even be surprised if I found out that she’s been running the afterlife since she died. She was that kind of person.”

“Heh. One of us in charge of the afterlife? It would probably work better and be super weird too.” Luxa stood up. “Well, it’s about time for dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thank you.” Penny stood. “I think I will.”

The lawnmower beeped ominously.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome too, you old rust bucket.” Luxa chuckled and leaned over to avoid a spray of water from the lawnmower. “You’re lucky the kids like you.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Experience tempers us all, and Penny has a lot of experience.

Penny actually has a permanent position in the Alliance, kind of like a Minister Without Portfolio.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

[alexdmorgan30]

Scared Straight: How My Fear in Early Sobriety Evolved Into Lifesaving Discipline

The date was October 12, 2011. It was my second morning of sobriety, the first that I’d woken up in my bed rather than jail. Two days earlier I’d sideswiped a cab, blind drunk, and kept going. Cops frown upon that.For some time, I’d been building toward a last straw scenario – a no-doubter dealbreaker to finally cost me my marriage and (yet another) job. The dead silence with which my spouse departed for work that day spoke volumes, and God knew how I’d keep my suburbs-based job without a license to drive there.As it turned out, I still have both – the wife and the job – today, seven-plus years into recovery. And what I’ve realized is that the unprecedented fear I felt that fall morning was key to sparking my long-term sobriety.Recently in this space, I wrote a piece about how, for all its faults, AA groupthink can help newcomers develop much-needed discipline, as it encourages a standardized structure recommended for recovery. Meeting, sponsor, stepwork, repeat.But for me and for many, there was also a second, more self-sufficient catalyst to recovery: fear. Fear that you’ve already done enough to be doomed; or if you haven’t, you can’t stop yourself from making it worse still; fear to do anything at all because you’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that you can’t trust yourself to do anything, at all. Fear not only of consequences, but of self.Sometimes it truly is darkest before the dawn. This seemingly debilitating state can, ironically, lead to lifesaving discipline of a sort we alcoholics and addicts had thought far beyond our grasp.Freedom in FearDespite the divorce/firing 1-2 combo I felt certain was coming, that second sober morning I felt free – and not just because I was no longer behind bars.Rather, my freedom was twofold. First, what’s done had been done and I couldn’t undo it. So although I was scared shitless of how my marriage and career could both abruptly end, I was free from worrying about whether I’d do something to warrant those outcomes. Been there, drank that.More importantly, I was free from myself. And this freedom was a direct result of being completely mortified at having put myself in such a precarious, powerless position. It was the most honest fear I’d ever felt – and in hindsight, the healthiest.Starting that day I became deathly afraid of my erratic, addiction-driven actions. All the vows of abstinence inspired by a worsening set of consequences and hangovers had accomplished nothing. The 7am “never agains” had become the 4pm “once agains,” again and again.I simply couldn’t trust myself to make decisions, and I knew it. And considering its origin – the brain of a nervous wreck, two-day-sober insane person – my next thought was illogically logical:“Then stop making fucking decisions.”This, of course, was easier said than done, and in fact sounded suspiciously similar to many former miserably-failed declarations of self-restraint. This time around, the only fresh variable was the agoraphobic, fetal-position-caliber fear permeating my body, with an assist from a stupefying fog familiar to those of us who also suffer from depression.I was scared. I was stunned. And I had to be at work in 45 minutes. My uncle gave me a lift. In the car ride over, one thought reverberated in my head:“Just get to work, do your job, and come right home.” It was all I could handle that day. It was also the genesis of an invaluable recovery tool: keep it simple.From Fear to PowerlessnessI got to work and back that day, and the next. I managed to walk myself to an AA meeting a half block from home. That weekend I shadowed my miraculously still-there wife like a toddler would his mommy.My daily deeds had dwindled to a precious few, and fell into one of two categories: everything I did was either obligatory (work, AA meeting) or subjugated, meaning it was accompanied and determined by someone else (my wife, an in-the-know family member). If that sounds pathetic… well, it is. But it worked.This decision-free existence, I’ve come to realize, was a real-world Step 1, whose dual recognitions of powerlessness over inebriating substances and life unmanageability are, I believe, near-universal to recovering alcoholics and addicts regardless their particular method of sobriety.What ensued was a lifestyle minimalism in which my days were rigidly pre-planned, and I still had enough of my secret ingredient – fear – to prevent any deviating from this preset course. A typical day looked something like this:Wake up, get dressed, coffee, breakfast. Board the first of three buses (New Jersey’s transit system leaves a lot to be desired) for work. Work. Eat lunch – bagged and brought, because the fewer times you walk out of your office, the smaller the chance you’ll walk into a bar.Work again. Three buses home. Gym or AA, time and rides permitting.During this time I was never on my own in private for more than five minutes if at all possible. Being (amazingly still) married was obviously a key factor here; as someone who spent early sobriety in a self-constructed cage, I still have no idea how anyone gets sober while single – that feat would have meant too much me time to accrue clean time.During this period it was crucial that I built a solid sober foundation. For me, that meant making meetings, getting a sponsor, and making an honest start on the 12 steps; I strongly encourage those in other recovery programs to dive into the prescribed action plan for newcomers.How to Build a Foundation in Recovery, QuicklyThe point – the universal goal – is building a foundation of recovery as expediently as possible. Because fear, like our once-vivid memories of alcoholism’s harms and humiliations, fades over time. I didn't realize it, but I was in a race against the clock to develop reliable recovery tools before my stubborn self-will—in the form of the idiotic notion that I was prepared to once again make my own decisions—returned in brute force.Luckily, we only need to win early sobriety once. And in this perfect storm of circumstances, I was just scared enough and stiff enough for long enough to eke out a victory. By the time my fear began to waver and wane, I had a few months and a few steps under my belt. I was on my way.Inch by inch, the closed door of my life began to creak open. I started to take little excursions by myself, informing my wife precisely where I was going and when I’d return. I dared go out for lunch at work from time to time. I went to the trigger-laden New York City by myself for a doctor’s appointment. And finally I passed the biggest test of all: getting my driver’s license back and, with it, all the potentially disastrous decisions that come with the open road.Not surprisingly, none of this success was the result of any grand master plan hatched by a raw, frightened newcomer. This was far more fortune than forethought. Regardless, it’s the results that count - both for me and, I hope, for others just beginning their journey in recovery.If you’re reading this as a scared-witless newcomer, take the advice of someone whose experience was accidental but nonetheless useful: Make the decision to stop making decisions. There’s plenty of time to get your life back. Now’s the time to save it.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 http://bit.ly/2VDj7Vr

[swipestream]

New Release Roundup, 20 October 2018: Science Fiction

Stilted cities, space pirates, cyberpunk delivery mages, and a warrior son of the God-Emperor of Mankind feature in this week’s roundup of science fiction’s newest releases.

Accord of Honor (The Ragnarok Saga #1) – by Kevin McLaughlin

Space Pirates aren’t supposed to exist. But apparently, nobody told them that. When Thomas’s first command is ambushed in space, only quick thinking will keep his crew alive.

One random pirate ship would be bad enough, But the truth is far more deadly. Multiple ships of unknown origin are striking freighters and kidnapping their crews.

Then the pirates turn their eyes toward the planets.

One man has prepared for this; Thomas’s estranged father, Admiral Nicholas Stein. Hero and villain of the last great war, he has spent decades preparing for the conflict he always knew was coming. Now he and Thomas are all that stands between humanity and a ruthless enemy who will stop at nothing to control space – and from there, to enslave us all.

The Atlantropa Articles – Cody Franklin

In an alternate timeline, World War II never takes place. Instead, a plan is put into effect by Hitler and the Nazi party to drain the Mediterranean Sea. They promise fertile land, millions of jobs and endless energy. New land to be settled. Living space for a crowded continent. All of Europe came together and signed a treaty to realize this new world, it was called ‘The Atlantropa Articles’

Two millennia later, the Reich run the world. Aryans have become a race of their own, out numbering their neighbors and ruling with a messianic passion towards Hitler. Europe has been united under the banner of the swastika.

But the plan of a fertile lush land was never realized. The project took decades longer than anticipated. By the time it is completed, what they find is a salty barren world. Now the Mediterranean Sea is a desert basin known only as the Kiln. Southern Europe has been abandoned.

This is where Ansel’s story begins.

Battlespace (The Stars Aflame #1) – Richard Tongue

For decades, the Terrestrial Commonwealth has been at peace. The bulk of the Navy that once conquered the stars in mothballs, only a handful of obsolete cruisers patrolling the far frontiers of space. When a genocidal alien race decides that humanity is its next target for extermination, only a single ship can stand against them, a battered old cruiser named Leonidas, and her maverick commander, Mike Scott, brought out of enforced retirement to lead his ship and his crew one last time. As the worlds of mankind burn under the wrath of the enemy, Captain Scott must fight one desperate battle after another to buy time for the Commonwealth to must its battlefleet, or face the destruction of Earth, and all humanity with it…

Black Triumph (The Dark Victory #3) – Brendan DuBois

More than ten years ago, the alien Creepers arrived in Earth’s orbit and started a war that was a slaughter for humanity. Nuclear weapons detonated in the atmosphere destroyed all electronic devices, asteroids dropped into oceans and lakes swamped cities with artificial tsunamis, and the nearly invulnerable Creepers arrived on Earth, going forth from their dome bases to attack civilians and military units at will.

Sixteen-year-old Randy Knox, a newly minted lieutenant in the U.S. Army, has been fighting the Creepers since he was twelve. He has seen friends, family members and fellow soldiers killed by the Creepers, and he is tired of war. At one point, it seemed the war was over when the aliens’ orbital battle station had been destroyed.

But a second Creeper orbital battle station has arrived.

The war no longer seems to be over, and while returning to his home unit, Randy’s convoy is ambushed. Separated from his fellow soldiers and his K-9 companion Thor, Randy faces the ultimate horror of every American serviceman: to become a prisoner of war of the aliens.

Cassandra’s War (The SynCorp Saga #2) –  David Bruns and Chris Pourteau 

The Lazarus Protocol, the corporate plan to reengineer the Earth’s atmosphere, has failed. The mysterious Cassandra and her Neo zealots have weaponized the weather, Anthony Taulke is in jail, Ming Qinlao is on the run, and Colonel Graves is left to clean up the mess.

Meanwhile, we the people pay the price—in blood and treasure.

But the machinery of the corporation is not dead yet. As Anthony hatches a new scheme to undo the damage caused by the Lazarus Protocol, he makes new alliances and stabs old friends in the back. Flushed out of hiding, Ming Qinlao risks everything to reclaim her family name. And a war-weary William Graves is forced to choose between his duty and his conscience.

Deliver or Die (Delivery Mage #1) – Jaime Davis

A dangerous tech warlord. A devious damsel. Is this smuggler mage getting paid or played?

Baltimore, 2055. Ex-special ops agent Kurt Carter refuses to resort to killing any longer. Though this mage isn’t above skirting the law with a little magic to smuggle goods through the interstellar portals and back to Earth, he never expected to use the Newton’s gates on a ransom mission for the ex-wife he can’t seem to forget…

With the help of a trigger-happy sidekick, Kurt has no choice but to break into a government building and steal a mysterious sarcophagus. After his ex throws an unexpected wrinkle into his plan, the smuggler mage must improvise to keep an impatient warlord at bay. Can Kurt save the girl and protect his business all without getting more blood on his hands?

Justiciar (The Vigilante Chronicles #5) – Natalie Grey and Michael Anderle

After taking down the Yennai Corporation, Barnabas has earned a little break.

On the way back to High Tortuga, however, he stops to answer a distress call.

How long could it take, after all?

Barnabas is about to find out. In what should have been an open-and-shut murder case, questions begin to pile up fast: who, exactly, was this Jotun Naval captain? Why was there a black ops ship lurking nearby, ready to shoot down anyone who tried to approach?

Barnabas has made a promise to a friend that he’ll unravel the murder, but the closer he gets, the more he finds himself asking just who this captain was.

And just what in hell did he get himself involved with?

Liberty (Legacy Fleet #6) – Nick Webb

War.

It rages across United Earth space, claiming millions of lives. The Swarm have returned, larger, more fierce, and more technologically advanced than ever before.

The voice from Saturn’s moon Titan claiming to be Tim Granger is warning humanity that this time, the Swarm may be unstoppable.

Admiral Shelby Proctor, on the run for the suspected murder of the United Earth President, knows that humanity’s only hope may be a hero that’s been dead for thirty years, and travels to the center of Titan to find him in Earth’s darkest hour.

The fleets are assembled, all the races united against the overwhelming enemy from another universe. And now all they need a legendary hero to lead them to victory.

Machine City (Detective Barnes #2) – Scott J. Holliday 

To ex-detective John Barnes, the machine is a dangerous and abhorrent addiction. The criminal thoughts it embedded in his brain helped him stop a serial killer, but they left him dazed—with pounding, murderous impulses. Having turned in his badge to salvage what’s left of his psyche, Barnes must return to the darkness at the request of his former partner. A little girl has gone missing. So has Adrian Flaherty, the detective in the kidnapper’s shadow.

And only Barnes can hear the clues.

But the trail is more dizzying and more personal than he feared. The voices are revealing a secret only Flaherty could have known. They’re also telling Barnes that he doesn’t have long to live. To find the girl, he must listen closely. Because the clock is ticking…and Barnes’s mind is going fast.

Mechs and Violence (Infinite Lives Online #2) – Elven Steele 

My name is DeadPixel. I’m really living up to my username…

A quick note to any player who may be considering joining my party: the fact that I am currently on fire is not a cause for alarm. And the fact that my special skill involves getting repeatedly and horribly murdered isn’t going to cause a problem either, I swear. And do you want to know why that is? Because I have the one thing the rest of you noobs can only dream of… infinite lives.

So what if my Wizard’s gone on an unexpected journey to the off-licence. By the time I’ve left the battlefield, those mech enhanced pix-holes won’t know what hit them… because I’ll be running away so fast, they won’t have the chance.

Spartan Company – Toby Neighbors

One bad decision can change your life… forever.

Orion Porter is in trouble. He’s about to be shuffled into a judicial system that few ever escape. His options in life have suddenly been reduced to just two choices: take his chances with a public defender, fighting criminal charges he’s not likely to win — or join the Space Marines. Both choices are filled with danger, but only one will get him out of the system designed to keep him down.

Apex Venandi is a goldilocks world with vibrant indigenous life. The isolated planet is home to five intelligent species, whose culture revolves around tribal warfare. Restricted from human intervention, the world was little more than a footnote in the Galactic Space Fleet’s expansion across the galaxy until a rare and important resource is discovered there. For the first time, humanity will encounter another species whose proclivity for violence is greater than their own.

Follow Orion as he makes his way through Space Marine Basic Training and is thrown to the wolves in the vaunted Recon Challenge.

Storm World (Undying Mercenaries Series #10) – B. V. Larson

James McGill is sent to the Core Worlds!

In an unprecedented first, Earth sends a message to Mogwa Prime. Unfortunately, the messenger is not met with enthusiasm. Misunderstandings soon threaten all of Humanity. Forced to prove Earth can serve the Empire better than any rival, McGill does his best.

Eager to prove our worth to the Galactics, the frontier war between Rigel and Earth is expanded to Storm World. Circled by six moons, the planet is ravaged by wild storms and tides. Battles are fought in raging hurricanes, and death stalks the soldiers on both sides.

McGill grimly fights and dies in the mud until the job gets done, but will it be enough to satisfy the angry Mogwa?

Suns of the Aranol (Obsidiar Fleet #5) – Anthony James

With tenacity and fearless determination, the human Confederation has fought against the overwhelming forces of the Vraxar. Still the aliens keep on coming.

Following the events on New Earth, a chance sighting presents an opportunity too good to ignore. One of the Vraxar’s remaining capital ships – Ix-Gastiol – is located in close orbit around a star.

Fleet Admiral Duggan prepares to strike against the mightiest of the alien vessels. With a strong fleet of warships assembled and an Obsidiar bomb to back them up, he believes success is within reach. However, the Vraxar have existed for millennia and Ix-Gastiol has overseen the extinction of a hundred species. This will be no easy mission.

When everything goes badly, catastrophically wrong, it’s left to Captain Charlie Blake and Lieutenant Eric McKinney to put it right. Trapped within the endless depths of an alien spaceship, they must lead a small squad to achieve the impossible and somehow finish what an entire fleet failed to accomplish. Ix-Gastiol holds clues for the resourceful to find. What Blake and McKinney unearth could be the most important discovery of the war, but only if they can escape with the information.

Upon Stilted Cities: The Battle for Langeles (Chronicles of the Great Migration #3) – Michael Kilman

The Ruins of Langeles are up for grabs, and two walking cities stand on the brink of war.

Saud has arrived, Runner 17 is near death, the women of Nowhere are missing, and Roderick’s plot to destroy Manhatsten is underway. Never before has Manhatsten faced such danger. Enemies lurk both inside and outside the city, and there is an assassin in Daniels’s ranks.

It will take all the power of the sisters of the Order of the Eye to protect the city. But Alexa Turon has seen the future and she knows what’s coming. She knows if they don’t do something, the city will fall. Can she and her new allies change the future or is too late to stop the inevitable?

Vulkan: Lord of Drake (Horus Heresy: Primarchs #9)- David Annandale

As the Emperor marshals his armies to reclaim the galaxy for the glory of mankind, one by one his Space Marine Legions are reunited with their missing primarchs. The XVIII Legion are still waiting to find their true identity, unaware their own lord has been found. In the Taras Division, legionaries face annihilation as they take a last, desperate stand against a monstrous ork invasion. Meanwhile, on Nocturne, Vulkan has raised and trained a new force of warriors. Now it is the time for him to lead his sons into battle. Now it is the time for him to truly don the mantle of primarch, not only to save one half of his Legion, but forge a new, indivisible whole.

READ IT BECAUSE: It’s an untold tale from the earliest days of the Salamanders, as they are united with Vulkan for the first time. With their very existence in the balance, can they be forged into one indivisible whole?

When Eagles Dare (The Four Horsemen Tales #5) – Doug Dandrigde

The mission Jonah White Eagle and his Fierce Eagle Company had taken was nearly impossible. Land on the middle of a 7.5-mile-high plateau, walk six miles to the edge of the cliff, and scale down the 39,000-foot-high cliffs to the foothills of the canyon below. Nothing to it, right? But then there was the swamp they had to cross, full of large indigenous life forms that thought Humans made good snacks. And the rivers, full of other killers, they would have to negotiate.

And then there were the Xlatan, a race of six-legged killers guarding the target. A relatively new mercenary race, although one more established than the Humans, the Xlatan were supposed to be tough. Maybe not—quite—as tough as the Besquith, but close enough to give a number of other merc races the chills when they went up against them.

The Fierce Eagle Company only needed to traverse the planet, stay alive, and then surveil the operation the Xlatan were guarding to gather intelligence for the CASPer-equipped merc company that was enroute to destroy the operation.

The mission would have been nearly impossible, all on its own. There’s just one more thing, though, that they don’t know. They’ve been set up, and the heavy forces aren’t coming.

Still, anything is possible…When Eagles Dare.

New Release Roundup, 20 October 2018: Science Fiction published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames

[chocolate-brownies]

Jess Davis is just one of the luminaries you can learn from at Wellspring this October. For tickets and more information, click here. Wellness industry professional discounts and scholarships available!

When Jess Davis and I were first scheduled to chat, I didn’t get an answer. I knew that she was planning to spend the day in the woods, and figured it was a reception issue. It’s an appropriate issue for Jess to have—as the founder of Folk Rebellion, a media and lifestyle brand advocating for offline living—a lack of cell reception kind of comes with the territory. When I spoke with her a few days later, she gushed about her experience in a Getaway cabin, a new-ish company founded to help city folks develop a personal relationship with the great outdoors. Jess had been running around for the previous couple of weeks, stressed and overworked, and had gotten sick. Jess’s friend and founder of Getaway insisted she come and stay in a cabin, completely off-grid.

Unplugging for a few days was just what the doctor ordered—though it came as no surprise to Jess. A former award-winning brand strategist who thrived for 10 years in a fast-paced, tech-heavy world, Jess had a reckoning that while she’d helped to create a world that was digitally connected, the flip side was a sincere disconnection from the actual, tangible world. She founded Folk Rebellion to help others like her develop a sense of digital wellness and a healthy relationship with their devices.

WTF is Digital Wellbeing?

“Five years ago, digital detoxing was a way to start the conversation,” says Jess, but notes that an absolute approach may not be the healthiest way to go about digital wellness today. The digital revolution isn’t comparable to something like cigarettes, for example, when it comes to being healthy. 

“Technology is an amazing tool when used appropriately. For me, it’s digital wellbeing,” she says. “The same way you have wellbeing with nutrition and with exercise, I think that the next form of wellbeing is being digitally well. You can’t rush to yoga, have your juice, take your supplements, and be well if you don’t have a healthy relationship with your technology and your devices,” she says.

Jess likens the evolution of digital wellness to the seatbelt revolution in the 1980s. Cars were, point blank, unsafe—and auto manufacturers were reluctant to spend the money to revamp their factories. Ralph Nader led the charge to change mindsets: It wasn’t cars that were dangerous, it was the cars without safety precautions. He successfully lobbied for seat belts, airbags, and stop signs.

“I’m not saying that the tech is bad and we need to go without it completely,” says Jess, “but if we don’t start adding some stop signs, seat belts, and some age restrictions, there are going to be some negative things that happen.”

Photo by Anja

The Dangers of Digital Overdose

Going through the windshield of a car is a significantly more dramatic deterrent, however, than the threat of a sore thumb. Consequences of digital overuse are much more nuanced, and complicated by the fact that digital dependency is, point blank, a revenue model. The more time we spend online—and the more information we share—the more money companies make.

“When you think of addiction you think of drugs,” says Jess. “You think of all of these terrible things that you think, ‘Oh, no. Not me.’ When you find out that people are sitting alone and they can’t get off of their phones for like 13 hours a day or a video game, this is addiction.”

Jess should know. Before she left her previous life, she absolutely considered her own dependency an addiction. “The experiences that I had and what’s now being documented is a general sense of dissociation from reality,” she says. “A malaise, a feeling of un-wellness 24/7. Inability to focus, memory loss—which was my number one ailment—which now they call digital dementia. It’s terrifying, but it’s literally called that,” she says.

If we don’t start adding some stop signs, seat belts, and some age restrictions, there are going to be some negative things that happen.

Overuse can result in myriad consequences. We’re physically rewiring our brains to consume and retain shorter and shorter content, which shortens our attention spans. This can in turn inhibit our ability to be creative and to follow-through with complex tasks. Additionally, there is no shortage of evidence that boredom—space previously unfilled by mindlessly scrolling—spurs innovation. But it’s more than that.

“One of the things that they’re finding is the scariest thing to me is that children who studied with an iPad or used and iPad as a learning device from birth till they entered kindergarten versus children who did not,” says Jess. She understands that these can be great learning tools, but when comparing the socialization of these kids, children who used the device were 35 percent less empathetic than the ones who didn’t have it when they entered kindergarten. “What does society look like 35 percent less empathetic?” asks Jess.

There’s also the issue of increasing narcissism, which leads to increased rates of depression and isolation. The long-lasting effects of heavy social media use have yet to be determined, but again, there’s no shortage of anecdotal evidence that the negative effects of overuse are damaging at the very least. And Jess suspects that there are potential negative effects on physical health as well—she thinks there could be a correlation between the cortisol released when our phones ding, and increasing stress levels that lead to autoimmune disease. “That’s my hunch, anyway,” she says.

Corporate Responsibility

Just as the doctor who created Frankenstein was ultimately horrified with his invention, Jess says that many of the bigwigs who helped to create Silicon Valley are aware of its dark side. One group, the Center for Humane Technology (the guy who invented the “Like” button and an original founder of Twitter among its founders) is one organization looking to pull back the reins on the creations they put into the world.

What does society look like 35 percent less empathetic?

“They’ll go to Google, they’ll go to Apple, and they’ll say: ‘This is how you need to start thinking about making things’,” says Jess. “On the other end of the spectrum is me, and organizations like Folk Rebellion. What we’re really trying to do is to educate the consumer.”

Jess says the approach to curbing digital addiction should be three-pronged: Organizations funded by the government (ie: education in public schools), corporations, and personal choices. “I think it really starts on a small scale,” she says. “Homes, small businesses, neighborhoods, families, schools—things like that.”

Advice for Kicking Your Addiction

The first time Jess purposefully went without her phone for a three-day weekend, she says she was forced to face just how dependent she had become. “I’m an introvert at heart,” she says. “What happened was I kept touching my back pocket when I was being introduced to somebody, and I then had this gross realization that I’m cutting off conversations of people I have just met because I’m uncomfortable and I have this sort of get-out-of-jail-free card in my back pocket,” she says.

The first step Jess recommends to digitally detox is to truly get rid of everything. Keep a pen and paper handy, and jot it down every time you think of your phone, touch your pocket, or feel uncomfortable without it. “Then you start to understand your triggers,” says Jess. “Once you have that, you go back to the real world and you have to start to set these boundaries in balance.”

Jess only checks her email Monday through Friday, at specified times. She keeps her cell number private. She gave herself the rule that she no longer scrolls while in motion—that includes the subway, while walking, or in a car. “It’s just creating space,” says Jess. “If you can slice off and put these little hatch lines throughout your day of space that you can expand that doesn’t have the digital or the tech in it, that’s where you’re starting to create that better balance of it.”

The other thing she’s done is to reintroduce tangible mediums where possible. “I use tech all day—I’m a creator on the computer,” she says, “and so when I don’t have to be working, I go back to the forms that I used to love before these devices kind of consumed everything. I have magazine subscriptions. I actually carry physical books.” Despite that they’re heavier, for Jess, it’s a relationship worth the weight.

Bottom line? Technology isn’t the enemy—it can be a powerful tool to connect, which can enhance your relationships and make life easier. Allowing the digitized world to make life too easy, however, is the trap. As yogis know, balance is the key.

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Lisette Cheresson is a writer, storyteller, yoga teacher, and adventuress who is an avid vagabond, homechef, dirt-collector, and dreamer. When she’s not playing with words, it’s a safe bet that she’s either hopping a plane, dancing, cooking, or hiking. She received her Level II Reiki Attunement and attended a 4-day intensive discourse with the Dalai Lama in India, and received her RYT200 in Brooklyn. She is currently the Director of Content at Wanderlust Festival. You can find her on Instagram @lisetteileen.

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