#it is SIX AM i have been OUT OF MY HOUSE because of a GAS LEAK but it's all GOOD NOW and i'm GOING TO BED

[dxppercxdxver]

*tomska voice* FLINTLOCK FORTRESS IS BACK BABEYYYYYYY. anyway uh. clapping pots and pans together You People Like Sniper/Spy? Come Get Your Sniper/Spy

[deadchannelradio]

hello i've been loving all the stuff with tgirl jtodd. i've just been wondering what bruce's general thoughts and stuff are on it. i don't imagine that jason would ever "come out" to him so how would he find out? what is his reaction?

i think you're right in that jason is not Coming Out to bruce for sure for sure or anyone really! I think knowledge of it kind of spreads like fungus style through them all and is partially found by Using Their Eyebarls and Looking At Her. Firm believer in jay being butch as fuck (and not like fun fancy butch like... i don't think the way she dresses changes very significantly nor is she like, suddenly using moisturizer now or growing out her hair. shes always going to look like someone who would buy teenagers beer at a gas station for 20 bucks) but she is going to change the cut of her clothes a little and repitch the vocalizer so it's more Her Pitch and not "menacing growl lower than any human being is capable of". and also hormones are gonna give her D cups. the boobs are noticeable.

I think it kind of goes dick -> babs -> damian -> steph -> cass -> bruce -> tim

Dick knows first because jason goes to him to ask So Super Casually how dick knew he was trans (bc jason doesn't know the story) and dicks like Well i dont know i was Four. i've always been Advanced For My Age <3 and jasons like. ah. ok. and dick like looks at him and is like why do you ask. and jasons like. 'never mind just curious.' and dicks like 💡 and ends up giving the advice of like. don't worry about the Knowing. what do you Want? 'what do you mean' well it doesnt matter what you Are it matters what you Want and the I Want creates the I Am. so anyways do you want hormones. (jason looks at him bugeyed) just ask leslie she stabs me in the asscheek every six months with testosterone she'll give you whatever you want.

dick tells babs because dick talks to babs regularly and babs is the only one of them who isnt dick who talks to jay "regularly" (meaning jay will throw babs tips about cases she doesnt want) and dick also 'tells' damian (just starts using dif pronouns and damian gets it) because it's damian. and either jay texts steph to be like Do you have bra recommendations for us poor bastards with huge tits (whenever hers grow enough to be uncomfortable w/o a bra) or steph hears babs or damian drop a she/her regarding jay. steph tells cass bc cass does her best to never interact with the red hood/jay and as such won't know until either somebody tells her or she personally interacts with jay, which happens like once a year if she can help it. Bruce observes with his eyeballs and very awkwardly goes to dick about it like ...... so. and then doesnt continue and through like 90 seconds of what amounts to verbal charades dick figures out what bruce is asking about and takes pity on him and is like "she still goes by jay" and bruce is like OK thank you. and the next question is "does she need..... help" and dick is like she will shoot you a brand new double wide three bedroom two bathroom asshole if you try to give her money about being transgender of all things she's got her own money and will get whatever she wants with it and bruce is like right OK thank you. tim finds out last and probably from going over to Dick's house when jason is there and 1) seeing that she's got tits now 2) hearing both "jay" and "she" come out of dick's mouth.

I don't think bruce has any real big reaction to it but he probably feels guilty for not like.... catching it earlier. or pushing/asking when she was a kid. like this makes sense to everybody who Knows jay this isn't a shock, and i think bruce suspected when jay was a teenager but didn't. communicate about it with her. which i don't think was the Wrong choice. but bruce does feel guilty about it just because it just wouldn't be bruce without a guilt complex LOL. if he and jay ever communicated about it there would be a whole Oh My God You Knew. "i suspected." How Did You Know. "I Raised You." BRUCE!!!!

[cinnamoonblue]

Chapter I | Escape

Summary: Being an artist was your life purpose and you figured it out at a very young age. No one was surprised when you quickly made a name of yourself among the art communities around the world. Everything was going according to your life’s plan, until you were diagnosed with a life changing condition - Parkinson's disease. Since that day everything started to slowly collapse for you. Looking for an escaping, moving to a small, forgotten from the world sea coast town was the only solution you could think off. Buying an old beach house, which was screaming for renovation, was the greatest escape - until you met your annoying next door neighbour and his dog. A neighbour who had his own issues and demons to deal with but somewhere between the pain and the obstacles life has thrown to both of you, you found comfort in each other. All because he had the right colour of blue paint for your staircase banister.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Description: Modern AU | Early 40s retired Captan!Ace and Artist!Reader

WARNINGS: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP, major age gap between Reader and Ace (!sixteen years!), 18+ only, angst, hurt/no comfort, family trauma, emotional distress, !mentions of Parkinson's disease!, mentions of depression, explicit language, english is not my first language

Word Count: 7,5K

<- prologue | main masterlist | story masterlist | next chapter ->

NOTE: I WANT TO APOLOGIES FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART THAT THIS TOOK TWO MONTHS TO BE UP , I AM SORRY! I promise you the next chapters won’t take as long to be up, there were just a lot of personal things going on and I couldn’t focus on writing as much as I wanted to. I have such big hopes for this story and I really hope that you guys won’t give up on it and be patient with me while I write it. There is more I want to say but I will leave it for the end note, so ENJOY ♡

It  turns out everywhere you go‚ you take yourself‚ that's not a lie

The road in front of you seems endless. Both front windows of the car are rolled down as you let the heavy ocean air mixed with the pine trees surrounding the road fill up the air in the vehicle. The sky is becoming more greyish, indicating that the rain is coming sooner than the weather forecast has announced it last night. But you are not worried about it as the air, mixed with view in front of you, brings you some kind of peace and a sign that today will go as you have plan it.  

You have driven for five hours and only made one quick stop at a gas station to fill up the car with fuel, not even bothering to use the toilet or buy yourself some snack for the long journey ahead of you, but you don’t feel the need to do any of it.

The past nine months have taken a big tool on you – from being on top of your own little world to massively fall down in a matter of seconds, all you desperately need is a change. A big change.  

Glancing at the GPS on the car, a small smile appears on your lips as you see that soon you will be arriving at your destination. “Seven must be my lucky number.” You whisper to yourself.

Six is the number of houses you have already looked at and they were not what you are looking for, so hopefully seven is your lucky number. Hopefully today will be the day which you can mark as your new beginning.

You want to start fresh and clean – away from everyone and everything. You have been in a desperate need of escape. The past few months have clouded your mind and heart with sorrow, pity and anger – something that you have never allowed to feel towards yourself, and you are tired of it. If life plans to throw more and more rocks towards you and your way so let it be, but you won’t let it bring you down more than you already are. Life has started to take your passion and meaning of it away from you the moment it has thrown the disease, that you are still in denial off, in your way. But until your hands are no longer capable of holding the brush and your body hasn’t betrayed you – you will fight for your happiness and peace.

The last few moths have opened your eyes for many things and set your mind on others. You are planning on learning how to be indifferent, mostly because of how tired you are. Tired of being there for everyone, yet no one is there for you except your sister, but you can’t bother her with your life and problems; after all she has a whole family to take care of and you are a grown woman who is finally free to do whatever her heart desires, with no one around you to tell you anymore how to behave or act around people and situations.  

You haven’t realised you have entered the small coast town, until you stop at a red light on a crossroad. You blink a few times as you can’t believe it. When have you passed the town entrance sign without even realising it? A long honk behind you made you jump on your seat. Looking up at the traffic light, it has changed to green which means you are holding the line, but before you can react, it changes back to red. You raise your right hand in the air to signal to the driver behind you that you are sorry, but you couldn’t see their face in the front mirror as their car, a dark grey car truck to be more specific, is higher than yours. In your attempts to see the driver and apologies somehow, you have missed the green light again which obviously pissed the person behind the wheel as they honk at you once more and this time, they kept on going without stopping it.

“Oh my God, what an asshole, stop honking.” You stick out your head of the window of your driver seat and screamed at the person who’s face you still can’t see. This is getting you stressed and pissed at the same time. You are aware that it’s your fault, but can’t they be a bit more patient. Focusing yourself on the traffic light ready to take off the second it turns to green, the dark grey truck angrily manoeuvres around you and before you have the chance to see who the angry impatient person behind the wheel is, they are long gone. All that you have managed to see is an adorable golden retriever happily having its head out of the passenger seat.

“What an idiot. There could be children walking around.” You exclaim in disbelief.

Baterilla – the smallest coast town in the east coast, if not in the whole country. The current population is four thousand four hundred forty-six people. By all means some people would even call this place a village, but by the official state of the country it is a town – a forgotten from the rest of the world town. Driving through the streets of it until you reach your final stop, you also observe the place around you. For a small, almost uninhabited town, it has a lot of houses, which would inhabit more than four thousand people, all of them painted in light pastel colours, but mostly white, making the place very welcoming and delightful for the eyes. Passing by the main street by the beach your breath is taken away – there are many small shops for all kinds of things with small restaurants and caffes every few meters. They are in the typical white and blue colour palette, with a bit of a red popping then and there, for a coastline town. Most of them are closed and you start to wonder why? Why this town seems so big, yet it’s almost ghost like? It isn’t only the beauty of the colours and the view around it, but the ocean breeze mixed with it all, is making this place straight out of some romantic movie, making you fall in love with it immediately.

When you started to look for a house to buy you have told your real estate agent that you have only three criteria for the house – to be in a small town and, if possible, away from neighbours; to be right next to the beach; to be an old house in desperate need of renovation. So far none of the houses you have checked have matched your wants, but something in your gut is telling you that today is your day and you haven’t had this feeling in a long time.

You have to drive around five more minutes before you reach your final stop – the house you are having a look at today with your agent. Seeing her car parked on the driveway in front of it makes you feel thrilled. To add to your excitement, you have noticed that all the houses close by are far away from the one you will be looking at, and there are also no parked cars in front of them which means no one lives there and that they are probably summer villas, which won’t be a big problem for you. All houses except for one, the house exactly less than a three meters away next to yours, hopefully soon to be home. But there is no car parked on the driveway so maybe it is also a home some family uses only for the summertime.

Parking on the driveway behind your real estate agent’s car, you take a deep breath before stopping the vehicle entirely. “Seven might be – no, it will be your lucky number.” You say to yourself. Taking one last look at yourself in the front mirror you nod as a gesture of giving yourself a courage to go out and look at the house. Unbuttoning your seatbelt and grabbing your bag from the passenger seat, you finally step out of your car.

Nico Robin - a woman you have met a few years ago in a charity gala with your now ex-fiancé, is standing at the beautiful big white front porch of the house. Her tall and define body is dressed in a nice, and by the looks of it, expensive designer suit in a dark blue colour with small barely visible white vertical line stich on it. Her beautiful black hair is held on a high ponytail with her bands framing her face elegantly. Nico Robin is a woman who screams elegance and class from kilometres away, but her looks are only a bonus to her skills as a real estate agent – after all she is the most demanded and famous one in the country, so having her as an acquaintance is definitely in your advantage.

Walking up the wooden white stairs of the front porch you greet her with a little smile, and she does the same.

“How are you feeling today (Y/N)?” She speaks first. Her toned, but yet warm voice always makes you feel in ease around her, and you wonder if she has this warmness in her tone with every client or she only has it with you.

When you have set your mind on finding a house for yourself, after things with your ex-partner have gone all the way downhill, she was the first person you have contacted when the idea for the house came up in your mind. You still remember her shocked facial expression when you met with her and told her what you were in a search for. “An old beach house, exactly by the beach, crying for renovation in a preferably very small town?” All she got from you was a confident nod and in return as she a deep sigh escaped her lips. “Well, I haven’t had a such weird demand by a buyer in a long time, so – yes, I will help you find your house.”

“I’m excited, have this feeling that this will be the house.” You respond with a genuine smile. Today you have caught yourself smiling quite a lot, something that doesn’t happen frequently for quite some time now.

Robin returns the smile and nods with her head towards the front door of the house to follow her. The house is big and white from the outside with a second floor. Everything inside is mostly made of wood and painted white, which you don’t mind as you are looking for a typical beach house in a first place, though most of the paint is chipped or has gone a bit yellow due to no one taking care of the house. From the moment you enter the house you stepped in a quite spacious hallway, where the stairs to the second floor are, but what caught your attention there is the beautiful old banister. All the paint there is chipped and this itself added such beauty to it.

While Robin is explaining all the details about the house to you, you take a step closer to the banister and run your fingers on it. The chipped white paint feels rough and cold on your fingers, making little scratches on your skin as you continue to observe it carefully. Ideas start to form in your mind about all the possible colours you can paint it if you buy the house.

“Do you want to check out the second floor first?” Robin interrupts your thoughts as she notices that you are not paying her any attention. Shaking your head and taking a step back from the banister, you apologize to Robin for not paying attention and tell her to continue the tour of the house however she wants. “Let’s get upstairs first, I see you really like the banister.” A small giggle escapes her lips as she leads you upstairs.

Getting up the stairs you notice the sound some of the steps make while stepping on them, but you are sure that you will find a way to fix them, after all it is only three steps making this annoying cracking sound, so it shouldn’t be such a big problem.

The upper floor has another spacious hallway which leads to a master bedroom, a guest bedroom and bathroom. Everything here is covered in old floral wallpapers, which you will take down, as none of them are in your liking. But you do fall in love with the master bedroom. It is quite spacious, and the windows are from the celling to the floor facing the beach and the view to it is mesmerizing. You can see the waves, coming one after another, creating this beautiful breathtaking dance of the ocean. Each wave carries itself with such beauty before it disappears once it touches the outline of the sand. The freedom that the ocean cares within itself has aways captured your soul and given you peace. ‘No wonder little girls dream of being mermaids.’ A small smile, which almost reaches your eyes, appears on your face when you remember that you were once a little girl who dreamed of being one.

“It’s a nice view.” Robin says, now standing next to you, enjoying the view herself.

“You like the sea, Robin?” You ask, still lost in your own thoughts, but present in the moment.

“Oh, I love it. I have a beach house myself, best investment in my whole life.” She chuckles. “Come on, let’s get downstairs.”

Robin leads you into the kitchen first. As everything else in the house, it is paint in white colours with some wallpapers on the walls and it is connected with the dinning room. From there you entered the living room, which leads to the back porch of the house thanks to the window door and big windows around it, which leads you straight to the beach. This makes you fall in love with the house even more. Not only the room is spacious, but thanks to all the big windows in it, it is all lighten up by the daylight from the outside and it will be the perfect place to drink your morning coffee in it. The last room you take look at its just an extra room. It is quite big as most rooms in this big and spacious house are. There are big windows from the celling to the floor as in the other rooms, and this can defiantly be your studio room, if you gain the courage to pick up the brush again someday.

While Robin is talking about all the advantages and disadvantages this house has you pay her no attention once again, busy with sketching the rooms you have seen in your mind - from the colours you will use to the last piece of furniture you will need.

“I have one more house, but it’s in the east side of the city. Would you like to see it? It’s way better and it doesn’t need as much renovation as this one does.” Robin knows the look of your face; she has seen it many times in all her buyers. This is the face of a person who has already set their mind on the house they are currently looking at, and they are ready to make a final deal for it.

“No need Robin. I think I have found my house.” A content smile is spread across your face as you tilt your head a bit to look at at her. “How much do they want for it?”

“Thirty thousand.”

“Thirty thousand? But this is such a big house and it’s right on the beach, why is the price so low?” There must be some mistake, it is impossible for a house like this to be priced so low.

“This house has been on the market for alsmot eight years now and no one in their right mind would buy it, as I was saying until now and you didn’t bother to listen to me.” She gives you a knowing glance. “This house has more disadvantages than advantages.”

“It doesn’t matter I will manage with it all.” You nod confidently more to yourself than to the woman standing next to you.

“Please, think about it before making a final call. Even try offering less money, the sellers are probably going to accept it.” It is not only because she knows you, but Robin doesn’t want to sell something that she knows the buyer will regret later. The house might be big and spacious, have an amazing view and lighting, mark all your criteria for what you are looking for, but the amount of time and money you will need to invest in it is not worth it.

“We can offer a lower price, but I want this house. It’s perfect and exactly what I’m looking for.”

The type of person who you are is the one that once they set their mind on something it can not be changed, and this has let you to many great and very bad decisions many times. No matter how hard the woman standing next you try to change your mind, nothing will work, so all she can do is sigh and shrug with her shoulders in defeat.

“I’m warning you from now, don’t call me in a few months crying about how you regret it.”   

It has been a month since you made the final deal for the house. Your real estate agent is still not happy with your decision, but nothing can be undone now as you finally have the keys to it in your hands.

Standing in the middle of the small apartment you have been renting out for a few moths now, you are packing up all the things you will need in your new home with the help of your sister.

“I still can’t believe that you’re moving so far away.” Rebecca exclaims in disbelief as she closes one of the big boxes and wraps it in tape.

“It’s not that far away.” You murmur with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s seven hours car drive. How is this not far away?” Her amber eyes widen at your statement and how calmly you take the situation. She already lives two hours away from you, but adding extra five is a bit too much for her. “And yet, you haven’t even told me why?” She stops her movements and looks at you as you try to ignore her questioning eyes.

“I just need a fresh start.” You quietly answer, but this doesn’t give your sister any satisfaction. There are so many questions she has asked, yet none of them are given an answer, and this pains her. You two have never had secrets from each other, so what have changed? Why have you suddenly become so distant?

“What are you hiding from me (Y/N)?” There is so much pain behind the way she says your name pleadingly for an answer. She knows you like the back of her hand, and she cares for you like no one else does.

“I’m not hiding anything. Why you keep accusing me of hiding something?” Brushing her off like it is nothing only add fuel to your sister’s irritation with you. You are in fact hiding a lot from her, but it is for her own good. Rebecca has a family and problems of her own, you don’t want to add to this. The baggage with your problems and pain is yours to carry.

“Stop lying.” Getting up from the floor she comes closer to where you are sitting on it. “First you break you with the man whose name I don’t even want to say, and thanks God for this.” She puts her hand on top of her chest where her heart is as she breaths out with relief, remembering that you are no longer involved with the cruel man you had been for almost three years. “And still till this day, you aren’t telling me what happened and why you two broke the engagement off.” Her voice starts to raise a bit as she walks back and forth in the living room. “Then even before you broke the engagement something was off with you and still is, but you keep on being stubborn and refusing to speak with me. Me – your sister, the person who is always there for you, and now...” She takes a deep breath as she feels her lip trembling from all the build up tension, she has built up within herself. “Now on top of it all, you hit me last night with a phone call to help you pack, because you are moving six hundred kilometres away... Tomorrow.”

Silence takes over you. Everything your sister is saying is true, but you can’t bring yourself to tell her the truth. You can’t bring yourself to tell her the reason why you and your fiancé broke off the engagement. You can’t bring yourself to tell her that you might be diagnosed with stage one of Parkinson’s disease and that your life is slowly losing its meaning. You can’t bring to tell her that there are days where all you can do is cry and stair into nothingness as dark thoughts run through your mind. You can’t bring yourself to tell her that you are not looking for a new fresh start, and what you are looking for is an escape – an escape from everyone and everything.

Taking a deep breath in before exhaling, you finally grow the courage to look at your sister. “Becca, I’m not ready to speak about it.” This time you don’t lie, and Rebecca can read it on your face.

“Why?” Her voice comes out low and full of hurt, betrayed even. “You know that you can tell me anything. Is that monster threatening you with something?” She comes closer to you and kneels on the floor, taking your hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze.

“No, no, nothing like this.” You shake your head. “I haven’t heard of him since we broke up, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Then why, no, what is that you are not ready to speak about?” You don’t have the energy for this, at least not now, when you don’t have the answers yourself.

“Becca, could we please finish packing up, because I have the moving company coming early tomorrow morning?” Giving her a pleading look you hope that she will drop the subject and just continue helping with the putting everything away in the boxes.

“Fine.” She answers, feeling defeated and remembering how hard you are to speak with when it comes to emotions and expressing your feeling. If she hasn’t been your sister and knows you so well, she might have thought that you are an emotionally disabled as if it hasn’t been through your art, you barely ever express anything than a smile and a frown. And recently she has noticed that all you do is frowning; a smile is a very rare occurrence, and your laughter... she doesn’t even remember the last time she has been able to hear it.  

Seeing Rebecca turning around and going to pick another box, you relax your shoulders a bit. If she wants to, Rebecca can be as stubborn as you are, after all you are sisters, but she has aways been the one who has been gentler and more compassionate, which is good because otherwise you two might have never been this close.

“By the way, when was the last time you paint something?” Her question catches you by surprise. To be honest you don’t remember. It has been quite long since you have picked the brush in your hands. Maybe ten moths ago, a month before your big exhibition, but you are not very sure. After you have visited doctor Hiriluk and then doctor Kureha, you haven’t touched your paint brushes.

“A few days ago.” You lie without even thinking twice. If you tell her the truth it will only make things worse, and you don’t need this right now.

“Do you mind showing it to me?” She carefully observes your face and body as you slowly nod. You are lying, and Rebecca doesn’t like this. Something is going on and you refuse to tell her, but why?

“Of course, but let’s finish with this first.” You look up at her with a big fake smile spread across your face as you lift one of the many books you have in your hand as a gesture to your sister to remember why she is here in a first place.

You had to wake up very early this morning to let the moving company in and leave your keys to the landlord. Thankfully your landlord, an amazing and sweet mid-sixty man, offered himself to lock after the moving company so you could go ahead and be at the house before them, for which you were more than grateful for and accepted the offer without wasting a second.

Taking a sip of your second coffee for the day, you are now just an hour away from Baterilla, your new home and fresh start. The road has been long once again, but you are almost there. With your windows down you can feel the early spring breeze blazing your skin. Even thought you are quite exhausted from last night, as Rebecca has stayed until quite late to help you and thankfully, by the end of it, out of energy to ask you more questions before she leaves, somehow you feel extremely energized as well. Today should be a good day, as it was the last time you came here. This is your new beginning set on your tempo and rules so what can go wrong?

Apparently, everything can go wrong. Standing on the front porch of your new home you are looking with disbelief all over your face at the men who are supposed to take care of your furniture.

“What do you mean you can’t get them inside?” You gesture with your hand at the furniture spread across the front of the house.

With a deep sigh and an eye roll one of the two men tries to explain to you calmly that there has been some mistake, and they must get back to the city as they have double booked today, and they must take care of their other customer’s furniture.

“So what? You must finish your job here first.” Your patience is wearing thin. They must be joking with you. This can’t be.

“Miss, we must go back, please understand.” The man tries again as his colleague makes his way back to the truck they have come with. “We will be back on Thursday and put your furniture in the house.” Lifting his hands in the air as the problem is being solved, he turns his back to you and starts to make his own way to the truck, but you are quick to follow him as you start walking angrily behind and grab his shoulder to stop him.

“Thursday? Are you crazy?” You yell at his face. “This is in two days! Am I supposed to just leave my things out here for two days?”

“As I said, we are sorry, but we are on a tight schedule, and we must drive five hours back.” His face is blank as a new canvas as he pushes away your hand and gets back in the truck.

“Oh, hell no! You two are not leaving until you get everything inside.” You try to open the door of the truck and get the man out, but his co-worker fast to lock the doors. “I will contact your boss.” Slamming your hand on the door, all you get back in return is another annoyed look and an eye roll from both men.

“Yea, yea miss, please do that.” The man replies rolling his window up as his co-worker starts the truck ready to leave.

You waste not a single second to run to the front of the truck as they are about to leave the driveway. Crossing your arms over your chest you gave them a cocky knowing look that says, ‘What are you going to do about this now?’ with one brow raised high – they can’t escape you.

Or that is what you tell yourself until you see them backing up and manoeuvre around you, leaving you standing in the middle of the street with face full of disbelief. Running after them hoping that they will stop, you just give up.

“Yes, yes – drive away. Assholes! I will demand a refund!” Screaming on top of your lungs as you stop running in the middle of the road, you are trying to catch your breath as the truck drives away. “Fucking assholes.” You whisper turning back around and walking slowly to your house, as your legs feel heavier than usual.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk right in front of it, you look at all the boxes and furniture, trying to figure out how to get them inside the house all by yourself. Pulling your flip phone out of your back pocket, you dial the moving company number as you are planning to make a big fuss about what has just happened to their boss. After a few rings, the call is finally being answered, and you give no time to the person on the other side of it to even say hello as you snap at them.

“No, no, you listen to me. I will not wait until Thursday for your lazy employees to come and get my furniture in the house as this is an unacceptable behaviour.” You don’t remember the last time being this mad and aggravated. The audacity this company has is through the roof, and you are not having that. “Do you hear yourself?” Your voice is full of disbelief as you place the phone between your ear and shoulder, picking up the smallest boxes you have and start moving them into the house. Not only you must deal with this situation that you are in as of right now, but the weather has changed in a span of seconds and by the looks of it soon is about to start raining.

Heated into the argument you are having with the owner of the moving company, moving back and forth from inside to outside with boxes in your hands, you don’t hear nor see the dog who has run in your direction and before you know it you are laying on the ground with all of the things you are carrying spread around as you are trying to process what has just happened.

“Max, bad boy! Stop!” A male voice yells behind you.

Trying to get back on your feet you felt your hands starting to get stiff. “No, no, no. Not now, please, not now.” Whispering in fear your eyes focus on them. This can’t be happening right now. Taking a deep breath in you try to move slowly your fingers hoping that the stiffness will go away fast. “Come on, come on.”

“Hey, did you get hurt? Do you need help?” Hearing the same male voice, but now so much closer to you, you tilt your head at the direction where it comes from. Glancing up at him your eyes are met with a deep dark shade of brown ones. “I’m so sorry about Max. He just ran towards you the moment he saw you and didn’t listen to me.” The man chuckles awkwardly as he runs a hand through his raven black messy hair.

You are about to respond when you hear a bark. The dog who caused your fall, runs by next to the man and stands by his owner’s leg.

“Bad boy, Max.” The man scolds the dog as it sadly looks down at the ground. Looking back at you and seeing you still on the ground without moving he raises a brow. “Hey, you okay? You need hel-”

“I’m fine.” You cut him off fast as the last thing you need today is a pity from some stranger.

“You sure ‘bout that?” He replies, crouching to get a better view of you. Turning your face at him with a frown, the man is a bit taken aback. He doesn’t think that he has seen such a beautiful woman before in his life, let alone someone to make his breath caught up in his lungs for a moment.

“I said, I’m fine.” If your face doesn’t give off the vibe that you are both irritated and pissed at the same time, then your voice surely does it.

A makeshift puff of laugher escapes his lips as he observes your face, trying to take a glimpse of your eyes, which are avoiding his at all cost. “No, need to be stubborn. After all it’s my dog’s fault, so let me help you get ba-”

“What if I like laying on the ground? Has it crossed you mind?” Interrupting him once again, the dark haired man can’t help but laugh. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing...” He drags out waiting to hear you name, but you don’t give him anything. Finally, you start to feel your fingers and quickly go back on your feet. Patting all the sand away from your clothes you turn to look at the man who is now also back on his feet. “I’m Ace, nice to meet you...” Raising his right brow Ace makes a second attempt to get your name as he reaches with his hand for a handshake, but you just ignore it. Still avoiding his eyes, you murmur your name, and he repeats it as he makes sure to remember it. “I’m really sorry ‘bout Max.”

Lowering your eyes down to the ground you are met with an adorable golden retriever, who happily wiggles its tail, barking at you in a way like he greets you. “It’s fine.” You reply and finally trace your eyes to take a better look at the man in front of you. Quite tall and muscular, obviously older than you, but not a lot, at best late thirties you would guess, with a raven-black wavy hair reaching his shoulders and freckles spread across his cheeks. Dressed in black pants and just a simple white shirt, with red bead neckless around his neck. If you aren’t as pissed as you are right now, you might have been nicer to the man, but you are not – you are more than pissed at this point, you are aggravated. He has apologies already why is he still here.

“So, I guess you are the new owner of this house.” Ace says, crossing his arms over his chest and observing you, while waiting for your answer. What has gotten you so irritated? It can’t be just his dog. All he gets in response is a nod from you. “That’s nice. What made you movie here? Are you al-”

“Look, no need for a small talk, Ace...? It was Ace, right?” Deep down you know that later you will regret this. After all it is obvious that the man is just being polite and means no harm towards you, but he just happened to appear in the worst possible moment – first the moving company, then you having to carry everything by yourself and then you being swept to the ground by his dog, which you aren’t as mad about as you body betraying you when you have tried to stand up. “Why I moved here or whatever is up to me, now if you don’t mind, I would love to be left alone, and please if you can’t control your dog, put it on a leash or something.” You don’t even wait for a response when you turn around and crouch to pick up the things you have dropped.

“Hey, be as rude as you want to me, but careful with the comments ‘bout the dog.” Be rude, act bratty and arrogant as much as you want towards him, but Ace would never tolerate someone acting or speaking bad about his dog.

“Pff, whatever.” Murmuring under your breath once again you pay the man no attention. Grabbing the box steady in your hands you turn around and see him still standing there. “I think I made it clear that I want to be left alone, didn’t I?”

“Just a question, are you planning to get all of this in the house all by yourself?” His question isn’t mocking, but there is a hit of a mockery in his voice.

Swallowing hard and biting on the inside of your cheek you just nod. “Yes, why?”

“Look, princess.” He starts with a chuckle. “If you need help, I can help you.”

“Don’t pet name me.” Narrowing your eyes at him you are about to cuss him off when you notice something in the background, something quite familiar. “You know whose car is that?” Pointing at the silver truck car behind him, parked on your neighbour’s driveway, you fix your attention on it. You know this car; this is the same car of the same crazy person you have encounter on the crossway a month ago. This day can’t get worse that this – but apparently your neighbour turns out to be the crazy driver.

Raising his brow a bit and looking at you carefully, Ace throw a glance behind him at the car. “I do know. Why?”

“I’m sure this is the car of this crazy road rage maniac I encounter a month ago.” Hearing this his eyes widen a bit as realisation hits him. Taking a glance on the side he sees your car and recognises it immediately.  

“Well, if some people hadn’t missed four green lights in a row, that so called maniac wouldn’t have reacted the way he did.” Straighten his back and rolling his shoulders blades Ace looks at you, and now he is equally as pissed as you are. He can’t believe how can someone has such an attitude, when they have been the one who is in the wrong.

“Excuse me?” It doesn’t take you long to connect the dots that the ‘road maniac’ is him and that he also happens to be your neighbour. “First of all, it was my first time ever stepping foot in this town.” Walking closer to him you point your finger in his face. “Second, there could have been kids or people in general crossing the streets, what if you have hit someone?”

“Easy with the finger pointing.” He warns you as he takes a step closer to you, having have enough with your attitude. “Cut the bullshit. You’re the one who was at fault.”

“I did try to apologies, asshole.” You spat right back at him.

Deciding that there is no point in arguing with such a stubborn, big attitude, egocentric woman, Ace just turns around and calls after his dog to follow him.

“Oh, yes. Walkaway, you crazy maniac.” You yell after him with a big cocky smile spread across your face.

As he is turning back to look at you and close your big mouth shit, Ace feels a drop of rain falling on his cheek. Lifting his head up at the sky he feels more raindrops falling on his skin and a big cocky smile, similar to yours just a seconds ago, spread across his own face.

“Good luck, getting all this inside, princess.”  He clicks with his tongue as he sees the panic rushing all over your face as you feel the rain on your own skin. “Come on, Max. Let’s go, boy.” Whistling to his dog and patting the side of his left thigh, the dog happily follows his owner. “Good boy.”

Meanwhile you are not sure what to do next – you haven’t bothered to cover your furniture with anything last night so everything will get wet, and on top of it you don’t have anything to cover them with. Without wasting anymore time, you start running back and forth, trying to get everything inside as fast as possible, but there is no point. It’s pouring rain outside at this point, your sofa, armchair, all the textile furniture you have are wet and no matter what you try, you can’t get them inside by yourself, yet this doesn’t stop you from trying.

Looking at you from his kitchen, Ace sighs deeply with annoyance. Seeing how you are running back and forth, struggling to lift most of the boxes he feels a bit of a pity for you, but not so much to come help you, not like you deserve it. It is still shocking to him, how a beautiful young woman like you could have such an attitude toward a person who in fact tries to be polite with her and just introduce themselves. No matter how attractive you are, you are too young for him anyway, and he will never try to hit on a girl who is obviously still in her twenties, but due to the fact that you are going to be neighbours now, you can at least try to be nice to each other, but no – you happened to be a bitch.

A loud bark takes Ace out of his trance and makes him look away from the window. “Yea, I know boy. Some women are crazy.” Crouching next to his dog, Ace pets Max’s head as he happily barks and wiggle his tail. “Let’s make something to eat.”

You have given up. All you have managed to get inside are the boxes and some chairs, everything else you have left outside. Sitting in the middle of the kitchen, you have made yourself a warm cup of tea to calm yourself down.

Today is probably one of the worst days you have had in a long time. This hasn’t supposed to start like this. After you have given up on the furniture outside, you have called another moving company who has agreed to help you and they will come tomorrow morning, so this is one less problem to worry about.

But the thing you are feeling the worst about is your encounter with your neighbour. You have acted like a bitch towards him, and he didn’t deserve it, but you couldn’t help it. Since you have found out that you might be in first stage of Parkinson’s, something switched in you. You used to smile a lot, be nice, patient, kind to people. But not nowadays. After everything has gone down in your life, it feels like you have turned into something you don’t recognise anymore. You barely smile, having people around you irritates you to a point that you want to be isolated and far away from everyone, and that is why you have moved here in a first place. That is why you want to start new life as an escape from everyone and everything.

Of course, with your luck, everything from day one goes downhill, and you don’t know how to fix things. You don’t know if you actually want to fix them, maybe it is for better that things have turned out this way. You don’t want nor need friends, neighbours or whatever – you are all fine by yourself.

You are all fine by yourself, until it’s nighttime and there is no one to whom you can share your pain. No one to share how much you are afraid of the future and what it holds for you. No one to tell that even looking at the mirror you can’t recognise the face looking right back at you. That everything feels like you are locked in some lucid dream, no – nightmare, from which you can not escape.

It doesn’t matter how far away we go, where we go, or who we go with; at the end of the day no matter what you take yourself everywhere you go, yet recently you are not you. And this pains you, it pains you so deeply that almost every night you spend curled up in your bed, with tears falling down like waterfalls, yet no matter what you try nothing ease the pain. You want to scream, shout even, that this isn’t fair. Why you must endure this pain, why life has to take everything you love away from you? What have you done to deserve this?

Tonight, is no different than any other – you find yourself curled up in your new bed, which thankfully has been delivered here a week ago, so at least you have where to sleep. You have imagined tonight so much different, but as everything in this life nothing goes as planned for you. Curled up and clinging to the bed sheets with your fists wrap around them, your cries are silent, yet the need to scream is at the top of your lungs.

END NOTE: Again, I’m so sorry that it took so long to post chapter one. The thing is that I realised how much I suck with describing atmosphere and I really try to focus on this now as it’s important for the setting of the story. Another thing is that some of the things in the story include a lot of research + I have to really dig into Ace’s characters (more than usual) because making him in his 40s is a challenge as he can not act as he did when he was 20. And to make things also more complicated to me I made the story being set in the early 2000s so I must do research on how some things were back then as I was a baby back then haha. Anyway I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter and that you are willing to follow this story with the same interest as some of you follow THE NBHD. Your feedback is always appreciate by me ♡. Feel free to like, comment, reblog or message me about it. THANK YOU ♡♡♡

✰ taglist ✰ @orange-milky @neospade @bluetokie @glaciuswduo @izoswifey @darkomiomi @l-l-light

♡ comment or message me if you want to be included in the taglist ♡

writing, format & dividers © cinnamoonblue artwork @mxhxkxcx ©cinnamoonblue, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[what-we-do-in-santa-carla]

Lost Boys Incorrect Quotes

Star: Croissants: dropped Dwayne: Road: works ahead Paul: BBQ sauce: on my titties Marko: Shavacado: fre Michael: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead David: David, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

-

David: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat? Dwayne: >:O language Marko: Yeah watch your fucking language Paul: OKAY WHO TAUGHT MARKO THE FUCK WORD? Michael: 'The fuck word'. Star: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time Paul: Oh my god she censored it Michael: Say fuck, Star. Paul: Do it, Star. Say fuck.

-

David: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something? Dwayne: Nope, absolutely not. Paul: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through. Marko: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life. Michael: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you. Star: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

-

David: We need to distract these guys Dwayne: Leave it to me Dwayne: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Paul, Marko, and Michael: *Immediately begin arguing* Star, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

-

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker* David: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know. Everyone: Dwayne: ...I did. I broke it. David: No. No you didn't. Paul? Paul: Don't look at me. Look at Marko. Marko: What?! I didn't break it. Paul: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken? Marko: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken. Paul: Suspicious. Marko: No, it's not! Michael: If it matters, probably not, but Star was the last one to use it. Star: Liar! I don't even drink that crap! Michael: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier? Star: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Michael! Dwayne: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, David. David: No! Who broke it!? Everyone: Michael: David... Paul's been awfully quiet. Paul: rEALLY?! *Everyone starts arguing* David, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it. David: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick. David: David: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

-

Michael: Time for plan G. Sam: Don’t you mean plan B? Michael: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties. Edgar: What about plan D? Michael: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago. Alan: What about plan E? Michael: I’m hoping not to use it. David dies in plan E. Star: I like plan E.

-

Star: Michael... How do I begin to explain Michael? Marko: Michael is flawless. Paul: I hear his hair's insured for $10,000. Dwayne: I hear he does car commercials... in Japan. David: One time he punched me in the face... it was awesome.

-

Michael, walking into his house: Hello, people who do not live here. Paul: Hey. Dwayne: Hi. David: Hello. Star: Hey! Michael: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only! Marko: We were out of Doritos.

-

David , negotiating with Sam: We have your brother. Give us ten thousand dollars and he'll will be returned to you unharmed Michael: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars? David : Star, in the distance: MAKE IT ONE MILLION– David : STAR STOP

-

Marko: What time is it? Paul: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out Paul: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune* Star: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING Paul: It’s 2 am

-

Sam: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time? David: The car takes a screenshot. Michael: For the last time, get the fuck out.

-

Marko: I trust Paul. Dwayne: You think he knows what he's doing? Marko: I wouldn't go that far.

-

Star: I really like this whole ‘good guy, bad guy’ thing you guys have going on. David: It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and Michael isn’t

-

Marko: HELP! I TOLD DWAYNE I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK! Paul, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

-

Alan: On the count of three, what's your favorite cake? One, two, three- Alan and Edgar, in unison: Chocolate cake peanut butter frosting with chocolate chunks! Sam: Our turn, Laddie! One, two, three- vanilla! Laddie, deadpan: I've never had cake, what is cake.

-

David: Tonight, one of you will betray us. Dwayne: Is it me, David? David: No, it’s not you. Paul: Is it me, David? David: It’s not you either. Michael: Is it me, David? David: David, mockingly: Is IT mE dAvID?

[alexanderwales]

Notes on 3000 miles

Last year my doctor told me that I had high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and a high resting heartrate. So I started biking on an exercise bike, and by my best estimations, I'm either close to hitting 3000 miles or have already gone past that.

I should clarify that this wasn't all at once. I took many breaks.

So here are some notes.

When I started, I was on an exercise bike that my wife had gotten from her work. It wasn't the best, but it was free, and I made a deal with myself that if I biked every day for a month, then I could justify getting something better. I really really did not want to buy a piece of exercise equipment that would just sit in the house gathering dust, because that would feel awful ... but I do kind of wish that I had gotten the better bike sooner, because it removed some of the "friction" of exercise, where it felt like there were too many reasons not to get on the bike. The new exercise bike (a refurbished Peleton off Facebook marketplace that my wife got me for Christmas) really does just feel and move better. I think the general principle of not doing costly monetary commitments until you've shown costly personal commitment is a good one, however.

Blood pressure is in normal range. Cholesterol is in normal range. Resting heartrate is in normal range. This was all the case three months in, and this level of cardio is more than enough to maintain it.

Right now, I bike for thirty minutes a day, going 8-10 miles according to the bike. That range is enormous, because it represents vastly different amounts of work. Going 10 miles in 30 minutes is 20 miles an hour, and I keep the resistance relatively high, so by the end of it I'm always panting. By contrast, going 8 miles makes me feel like I didn't put in enough work.

My goal every day is sweat-based and completely qualitative. I want to soak through a shirt. This means that doing more laundry than I'd prefer to, which is an unanticipated consequence of the biking. It's also, compared to all the metrics the bike gives me, a very clear sign that I am actually exercising my body "properly" in a way that's achieving something.

I did some of the Peleton classes, and found a lot of the metrics to be motivating, but ... eh. Exercise is mostly about being healthy and maintaining my body, so my current strategy, for the last six months, has been to either shut the brain down or keep it fully engaged in something that passes the exercise time. Usually this means a TV show, especially a foreign one with subtitles, which need slightly more brainpower.

The final two minutes is always the worst. I'm just ready to be done with it. Sometimes there's gas left in the tank, but I still feel sweaty, thirsty, and overheated. I have a water bottle, and I drink from it while I bike, and I have a fan pointed at me that I turn on once I'm warmed up, but I always have a sense, in those last two minutes, of "finally I'm done". I tried the thinking man's solution, only biking for 28 minutes, and this did not help. In my entire year of biking a half hour a day, I didn't ever elect to go into overtime.

I initially lost ten pounds, then slowly gained it back. I am, in fact, overweight, but I'm holding more or less steady now, and there have definitely been some body composition changes, with muscle replacing fat. I went down about four inches at the waist. I've changed very little about how I eat (which is 90% meals that I cook myself, and a daily coffee drink of some kind, usually made myself with sugar/cream/chocolate). Biking amounts to 300-400 calories a day or something like that, so I'm presumably eating more to compensate and just not realizing it.

Mental health has been rocky, but that's just sort of how it is for me. I definitely feel less mentally well on days that I don't bike, and feel better afterward, but I have no idea how tight the correlation is, and if I had been keeping track on a mood tracker, I'm not sure I would be able to sus out from self-reported mood alone whether or not I was biking.

During the summer I replaced a lot of indoor exercise bike stuff with outdoor biking. My son has only recently learned to bike, so he's been with me many of these times. Usually that means that we're either biking a lot less distance, or we're biking for a lot longer time at much lower intensity, sometimes both. There's a bike path that's downhill from our house which goes for maybe six miles, with some good, clear turn back points, but that means a fairly arduous uphill to get back home. If I lived in a place where the weather wasn't frigid for almost half the year, I would probably be doing outdoor biking more.

I think the most important thing, if you're doing exercise every day, is making sure that you're doing it in such a way that it's sustainable and virtually incapable of injuring you. This mostly means proper form. Early on, I had a habit of pressing down the right pedal with the outside edge of my foot, and after fifteen minutes of doing that, the muscles in the foot would be aching and uncomfortable. I'm not sure why I was doing that, but it was difficult to get myself to bike in a way that wouldn't be putting strain on me.

I think it's okay to skip a day ... if it's for the right reason. Of the days that I've skipped, I always try to make sure the reason isn't "fuck it, I don't want to". I should either be feeling sick, feeling like I need to rest, or replacing biking with some other form of exercise like a hike in the woods or some weightlifting or something. If I start skipping days because I just don't feel like it, that's where the whole scheme falls apart.

I am currently sort of wondering how long this is going to go on for, and I think the answer is "for the rest of my life", or at least until I'm unable to keep it up for whatever reason. I don't think there's any particular reason to prefer an exercise bike (or regular bike) over running or rowing or some other form of cardio, but I think I have proven to myself that this is cardio I can do daily and stick with it to the level that is probably necessary for me to stay healthy. I'm not committed to doing it for the rest of my life, since in theory some other form of cardio might come along and sweep me off my feet.

I do wish that I had started earlier in my life, even if daily exercise has not been the panacea for mental health that I had been kind of hoping it would be. I hope that I have the willpower and wisdom to keep up with it indefinitely.

[aledethanlast]

If I'm already on the topic of the foxes and grown ups, let's talk about Kevin.

I think Kevin mellows out a lot by the time he goes pro. In part because there's not nearly so large an axe over his neck anymore, but largely because around his fourth year, when pro teams start seriously trying to recruit him, he realizes that his caustic and dismissive attitude towards his teammates can't really fly anymore. It's a Raven behavior, a label he's both disavowed and been disowned by, and most coaches are not his dad who will let him do whatever and kowtow to his expertise. He was an assistant coach for one semester, and never a captain. His behavior has a deadline and if he misses it, it might end his career. He's gonna need to make an actual effort.

And he wants to make the effort! He always admired the Trojans for their good nature, and while he is definitely a fox, he thinks he'd very much like being part of a more friendly team.

So when he signs on to his first pro team (the culmination of six weeks of studying various teams for play style, lineups, press reputation, and point stats), he feels ready to turn over a new leaf. If nothing else, he thinks he'd like to make more friends now that he doesn't have Andrew and Neil around all the time. And the team seems like a nice bunch! They're talented, driven, he can see how he can mesh with them.

This sentiment lasts him about a week.

"Put Neil on the goddamn phone," he says as he slams the door of his car.

"Kevin," his father says on the other end of the line. "We are at practice right now."

"I know, that's why I called you."

His father sighs in the way he does when he needs a few seconds to debate who he should blame for this latest headache. Then he hears a fist on glass on the other end, and a minute later the little fucker says "Kevin. How are you."

"I don't know how you did this or why, but I am going to fucking end you."

"Please be more specific." Smug little motherfucker. Kevin slams his foot on the gas and pretends it's Neil's neck. Though he eases up a bit when he almost tailspins out of the parking lot. He hasn't driven a car in six years, fucking sue him.

"Practice ended three hours ago, Neil. I am now leaving the stadium. Can you guess what I was doing in that meantime?"

"Rediscovering the lost city of Atlantis," Neil says, deadpan, and when Kevin goes to trial for homicide he is going to play this recording back for the court and they're going to call it justified.

"No, see, by the time Gotlieb started talking about Atlantis, I knew he was fucking with me. That doesn't salvage the two goddamn hours I spent trying to convince my teammates that the pyramids weren't, I shit you not, built by Napoleon." He pauses as he reconsiders what just came out of his mouth. "This was Andrew's idea, wasn't it?"

"Kevin, if you only talk to people about exy, they're going to think they can only talk to you about exy. Now your team knows you're an actual fucking person. Have fun with that."

Plague upon his fucking house. "Are you expecting a thank you?"

"You promised yourself you'll make more friends. I'm just holding you to it. So...yes."

Kevin doesn't say it, and he tells himself its because Neil doesn't need the ego. Somehow Neil hears him anyway. "Drive home safe, Kevin."

"Go get your rookies in line, Captain," Kevin says, and hangs up. He dials Andrew next; he needs to know just how much of Kevin's thesis Andrew turned into conspiracy fodder.

[hollaback--girl]

una más y no jodemos más

third part of incorrect quotes of ghostbusters :)

•

Trevor: You have Crayons?

Podcast: Yes, I have—

Trevor: You're— how old are you?

Podcast: YES I AM A GROWN BOY AND I HAVE CRAYONS, I HAVE A BOX OF EMERGENCY CRAYONS IN THE CABINET UNDER THE TV BECAUSE EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS SOMETIMES, OKAY? EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS.

•

Dickless: You think you're smarter than everyone else.

Phoebe: I don't think I'm smarter than everyone else. I know I am.

•

Trevor, learning how to drive: What happens if I press the gas and the brake at the same time?

Gary: The car takes a screenshot.

Callie: Please pull over. I’m driving now.

•

Melody: Hi, who's this? Trevor changed all of my contacts to mythical creatures.

Phoebe: What's mine?

Melody: Dwarf.

Phoebe: HE'S SO MEAN, I'M NOT THAT SHORT!

Melody: Oh, hey Phoebe.

Phoebe: FUCK!

•

Callie: You're alive.

Phoebe: There's no need to sound so disappointed.

•

Podcast: If you water water, it grows.

Lucky: ...What.

Trevor: He's got a point.

•

Gary: Say no to drugs.

Lucky: Say yes to drugs.

Callie: It doesn't matter if you say yes or no to drugs. If you're talking to drugs.. then you're on drugs.

•

Lucky: Yeah, a partner sounds nice, but a supreme enemy you can make out with in secret sometimes sounds a lot more hardcore.

•

Phoebe: Accidentally indulged in too much ‘free time’, turns out I’ve been reported missing for over six months and presumed dead by most local and national authorities.

•

Melody: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me.

•

Podcast: *watching his house burn down*

Podcast:

Podcast: *starts filming* Waddup, guys, welcome to my vlog, today's topic: how to get away with accidentally committing arson because you forgot Spaghetti O's cans are metal and thus non-microwavable! Step one: deny everything.

•

Trevor: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Melody, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

•

*During a game of Hangman*

Phoebe: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose.

Trevor: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something!

Phoebe: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

•

Melody: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Phoebe: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Melody: But you’re always acting stupid?

Phoebe: ...

Phoebe: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

•

Podcast: If you took a shot for every time you made a bad decision, how drunk would you be?

Gary: Maybe a bit tipsy?

Trevor: Drunk.

Phoebe: Wasted.

Callie: Dead.

[faunabel]

eugh sorry vent about my family again

it has been six months of living in a hotel again and my parents still have zero extra money. i don't understand how the hell they expect to ever get another house if they don't get real jobs. i also don't expect how the hell they ever expect me to be able to be a Functioning Adult if they won't help me with the bare minimum tasks required to be one. I Am Miserable. i don't have the means of getting a job since i lost my identification certificates and even if i did, i fear the cptsd would make it too difficult to even attend work, because being forced in constant close proximity with such abusive people has crippled my mental health once again.

it's genuinely. so. fucking. pathetic. how do you care so little and make so many excuses for why things are the way they are. if you actually put in real EFFORT you'd have a decent amount saved by now, but no. you waste money on cigarettes. you waste money on fast food nobody asked for. you sit on your asses until 5pm some days and go to work for three hours. it's a joke. i don't give a shit if you make 150 one day. do that every day or shut up. it means nothing if you make 50 one day and spent all of it on gas and food. if we've been here six fucking months with the only bills being the hotel and phone, and you STILL don't have any extra money, you are a joke.

and ofc my siblings just bitch at me and say it's my own fault things turned out this way. so i'm supposed to try harder with the required skills i don't have and support i was never given? god forbid i need any sort of help or guidance beyond being told to Do something, like that's Actually Helpful. i never considered that i need to Do Something instead of just sit around and wait for magic to happen. maybe the fact that i'm having trouble Doing Something means i need help and not being shamed and yelled at for being "lazy."

my brother was able to stay at home unemployed until he was 26. so why is it suddenly such an issue when i, not even 22 yet, am living at home, and not only that, but was already homeless for 3 1/2 fucking years from before i was even 17, now FOUR years actually, but apparently none of that trauma matters whatsoever and i should just get it together.

jesus christ i hate my family so much. every single one of them. they do not care how much they've ruined my life yet they expect me to be able to make everything better on my own and daring to express that anger means i'm just being a whiny victim who expects to have everything handed to me. Whatever.

i long for the day i can move far away and tell them to fuck off. forever.

[autisticempathydaemon]

hi, i was hoping to do one of the redacted matchup thingies, they’re so fun :) I’M SO SORRY THIS IS A PAGE LONG AAAAGH

i’m just gonna lead with the miscellaneous stuff (WOW i spelled that without spell check. didn’t know i could do that.) i’m a young adult bi dude. apparently i’m quiet but snarky and people say my humor is very dry (i have a monotone voice and am Very Committed To The Bit.). i used to have really bad anger issues to the point that davey pre-character arc is more relatable than he should be (even though my parents are alive. they’re just shit). i try to dress kinda grungy? but also whatever’s cozy/comfortable and in neutral/dark colors (except red! i like red, my hair is dyed neon red) i used to have cptsd so bad i basically didn’t leave the house for two years. i think it was like agoraphobia or something? there were delusions in there too. i’m much better now though.

usually the kind of stuff i listen to is loud angry rock music (fave song is hysteria by muse) or slightly older pop music (florence and the machine, MARINA) but the last few days i’ve been on a newer pop kick and i’ve been playing “Good Luck, Babe!” by chappell roan on repeat and it makes me want to scream on a windswept seaside cliff during a storm. specifically the bit from 2:15 to ~3:10 in the song. i know it’s a banger when it makes me want to scream on a cliff or punch something.

INTP? is that an enneagram? (“you’re telling me a shrimp fried this rice?”-sounding sentence, sorry)

not really video essays but i love listening to someone summarize books i never plan to read (i like the ones by cari can read or lexi aka newlynova.)

i didn’t have an imaginary friend? i’m incredibly autistic + adhd so i was daydreaming constantly to a near maladaptive extent but i never had One Consistent Thing that i thought was real.

i have to mash my face into the pillow for a bit to decompress and then i can sleep how i normally do, sleeping on my side in a way that’s probably very bad for my shoulders. (i am an adult dude and i hold a stuffed bunny who i haven’t given a name every night to go to sleep. maybe ill name the bunny after whatever character you give me)

my name is stolen from the love interest of a YA steampunk novel (a young victorian gentleman who wears eyeliner), because his character description just fits me so well, as well as the name itself just looking cool written down

my fave audio is probably the smash bros tournament :D. it literally convinced me to buy the game lol

it’s a good thing i’m anonymous cause i just do not get the gavin or caelum hype. i’m too possessive to date an incubus/ someone who will fuck other people. and i hate children so caelum is just past my threshold for kid-esque behavior that i’m willing to deal with. i’m also really not a fan of the yanderes/evil ones. other people can go ahead and like them, they just stress me out more which is the opposite of what i want.

knives out :D. the detective movie

i would friend the HELL out of asher. i just wanna play games with the man that’s all i ask

i don’t really get food at gas stations but whenever i go to a cafe i am probably getting something strawberry related (lemonade, a smoothie, etc) and a breakfast sandwich

the playlist “songs to get obliterated by a black hole to” is my pride and joy. i fucking love space and sci fi (that’s the thing i’d ramble about too)

my guilty pleasure media is the official gender-swapped twilight (puts my head in my hands) I KNOW.

I sent an anon for matchup earlier (I mentioned a stuffed bunny) and said I didn’t know what an enneagram was and I just looked it up and did a quiz and apparently I’m type 6? Idk how accurate that is but there you go (also I’m sorry if I was trauma dumping/oversharing I was restless from being inside all day whoopsie)

I’m a sucker for a good black cat/golden retriever sort of pairing, you know? Tack that onto you being a Type Six, and I’ve just got to pair you with Huxley!

Type Sixes are characterized by a desire for stability and security, for dependability, and who’s more reliable than Huxley? This also works with your self-described possessive nature in that Huxley would be the best partner to never trigger that nature, to never make you doubt or toe your boundaries. I also love him for you because we know Huxley canonically is a calming, relieving presence in the face of anger and conflict, which makes him even more perfect for you! (Also I think your grunge fashion sense would contrast so cutely with his casual, gym-bro style.)

Huxley would be so fun to be with! He’s no Asher, but he’d be a great gaming buddy, happy to show you all the Smash tips and tricks for when he introduces you to his family. Speaking of family, Huxley’s moms would just adore you for making their son happy. I can see him taking you to the east coast to meet them and taking you on the hiking and camping trails of his youth. It’d be a lovely time of you showing him the stars and constellations at night and maybe even him finding a cliff for you to sing Chappell Roan off of.

Song:

And I hold you every night/ And that's a feeling I wanna get used to/ But there's no man as terrified/ As the man who stands to lose you/ Oh, I hope I don't lose you

It was so fun to look for a pop-rock song that would make you want to scream or punch something, and I hope this fits the bill. The first chorus extremely hits on top of being a beautiful love song, and I think it wouldn’t be out of place on a road trip with Huxley in the driver’s seat or by a gorgeous cliffside.

Runner-ups:

Aaron and Sam are your runner-ups for a lot of similar reasons. They both also have drier senses of humor, so I think you could vibe and hold to a bit with either of them. I headcanon both of them wearing red often (Sam, a red-checked flannel and Aaron, a red polo a la his thumbnails), so you could match. I also headcanon both of them actively wanting to be child-free, so you’d be compatible in that aspect. Aaron outranks Sam just slightly because I think he’d offer more stability and security given his occupation and Unempowered status.

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for not talking to my sister?

we both currently live in the same house with our mother and youngest sister, who is in elementary. the sister i don't talk to is about two years younger than me. dont want to give exact ages but we are both early adults now. we haven't spoken in about six years, just small talk that is mostly just me giving her a message or asking if she wants something to eat.

now, i stopped talking to her because we got into a fight because i told her she could not hold my little sibling (at that time my mom was the only one working and i was the one caring for my three siblings, including the eldest who is disabled, and i was the only one who knew how to care for a baby.) and she told me basically to die. and a lot of her words were just stuff she was repeating from my mom who has like this weird thing against me since ive been young, never really knew why. she would yell at me in front of my siblings and still does sometimes, though not as much since shes older. anyway, i didnt speak to my sister for about two weeks because of that and also it was not the first time she spoke to me in such a hurtful way, until some family members noticed and scolded me for it being as i am her older sibling.

i didn't feel like what she said was right but eventually i realized i do love and care for her so i did try to make it up by walking her home from school and hugging her and buying her snacks from the gas station that was near our house at the time. but i guess my actions afected her and ever sense she had no interest in speaking with me, which my mother does still constantly blame me for.

i feel bad and i did try many times to fix things and even still currently although i know she doesnt care for me i do little things for her. but she doesnt want to talk and at this point i don't feel obligated to even want to keep trying to mend our relationship when she doesnt even care.

then recently things kind of went bad, which i won't go too much into detail about, but she ended up going to a mental hospital for a few days for running away and threatening to kill herself. and she made some comments about me to my mom saying that i didn't care about her and its my fault she did those things, which my mom agreed. then she came home after begging my mom to get her and pretended as if nothing happened. i soon found out from my eldest sib (who this sister is closer to) that she only did that in hopes that she could get somethign from my mom but idk what and why she even mentioned me because then some people came around asking me if i abused her or anything and why i didnt talk to her.

but it made me angry and hurt since i have been working to be a better sibling even in this awful household, ive been trying to treat my baby sibling better too so at least she knows she's loved and not alone. i am working and going to school while she (sibling i am not talking to) gets to sit at home. i get her gifts and she doesnt even thank me. i still love her even though she hates me so much, even though i know she was just manipulated by our mom to feel that way about me. and for her to say that after ive constantly tried to be there even when she didnt want me it just hurted.

now i am so tired and im preparing to leave the house because i cant do it anymore, although i would hate to leave my younger siblings with my mom. and i think i will give up trying to mend our relationship, because i thought she could change but its becoming to much and i cant be here. i know i should not have stopped speaking with her and i regret it, but i feel like my efforts over the years should be acknowledged too.

and i just need to know am i a bad person for feeling this way? should i even keep trying?

What are these acronyms?

[108garys]

Manny Sherman dialogue transcribed

I really enjoyed transcribing the little hope puritan dialogue a bit ago despite it being one heck of an undertaking and I've always wanted to do a similar thing on a much smaller scale(this time) so as an afternoon task I pulled up a video of the four Sherman tapes and typed out his on screen dialogue, it'll be good for writing him and better understanding his vocabulary and maybe some time around I'll do something a little more substantial like Randolph Hodgson's journal but that aside I feel Sherman's dialogue flows really well and does a great job with characterisation, can you believe there's barely more than a thousand words from him all up? Regardless I've tried to follow the in game captions on the video which can be a little hard at times due to white text on a grey background with the occasional white detail obscuring stuff but I believe I got it at least 99% accurate and beyond that I added in places in brackets that he laughed but not the uncaptioned sounds of him getting his ass kicked because I thought one added something and the other wouldn't(and here's the video I used)

(interrogation - tape 1)

Manny Sherman. Born January one. Nineteen fifty-six.

Come on, you already know all this. What do you want?

What's this?… Huh… You've been doing your research, haven't you Special Agent Munday?

What are my favorite television programs?

Describe my first pet.

What were your friends like as a child?

What is this?!

You taking a survey or you trying to learn something?

Would it kill you to be direct?

You wanted to know what inspired me? As if I wasn't an original?

Well… maybe there was one man I found myself a little fascinated by.

Henry. Howard. Holmes.

Why? Because he was numero uno.

America's first. The guy invented the trade. He set the benchmark, you know?

Learn your history, Munday. Read a book.

You think because I stuck a blade in some people and get off on it I'm not smart?

I, heh… 'allegedly'… killed 13 people before you got smart enough to find me…

__

(interrogation - tape 2)

…had to build my own little castle, just like Holmes did.

Most people like me do their business where their target lives. That's just asking to get caught.

Holmes had the right idea. It was all about the honeytrap.

You bring me some smokes? Like I asked?

Lucky Reds? Yes! These are like gold in here. Damn that's good. So yeah, the honey pot.

Holmes built a hotel about a mile from the World's Fair and CALLED it the World's Fair Hotel and bought ad space in the papers alongside ads for the expo.

Rubes from far and wide assumed it was the official hotel!

Ma and Pa Kettle take a train in from Nebraska, takes three days, they roll up into that joint ready to rest, get to their room… and whoops- what do ya know… Holmes had a gas pipe hidden under the bed and poisons them.

Or maybe he pulls a trap door on them.

Maybe he separates them and makes one watch through a window while he slits the other's throat.

That's the advantage of a honey pot: no shortage of targets.

That's why I picked all those houses north of the airport.

That whole neighborhood was scheduled for demolition and yet…

All those lovely realtor ladies must not have gotten the memo.

Call up as a contractor, tell them I'm flipping, have them meet me out there… and look at that… we're the only two people for miles.

The first couple times I'd wait for a plane to fly over, just to hide their screams, but…

after a while I realized they could scream as loud as they wanted.

No one was gonna hear a thing.

That's what I remember most.

Those screams.

You can try to understand why I am the way I am. You can forensic science up all the data you want.

But you'll never know… You'll never know, Munday… You'll never really know how it feels when you watch the fire burn out of somebody.

__

(interrogation - tape 3)

(laughter)

A whole carton this time? You trying to get on my good side or something?

Think I'll save them.

What? No questions? What's going on with you, Munday?

You seem different.

(laughter) I see that that glimmer in your eye, you little devil.

I can keep secrets, man… we all have them.

That prosecutor is trying to get numbers out of me. Know that?

Of course you know that. Numbers. They got Holmes for 27… but we know he was closer to 200, right?

Can you imagine that? I wish I'd had the time to try and beat that.

Sure they know about those nice realtor ladies… they got families after all.

But the numbers the D.A. is asking me about… I think he knows there's some people out there- rejects… misfits… the kind of people that when you see them coming you look the other way.

Does anyone notice if they go missing?

My father always told me to leave my mark on the world.

I never knew what he meant by that- not until I watched that first girl bleed out.

I call it art. That's my signature on society.

It's not murder, it's an aesthetic response to what this has world made me.

Ask people to list killers, and they'll drop five, ten on you before they can't think of any more.

Ask them to name the detectives that caught those killers- no one is going to say a damn thing.

No one knows them. No one cares.

No one makes movies about them.

No one puts their faces on t-shirts.

No one gives a shit.

(quiet chuckle)

I've left my mark on the world…

…have you?

__

(interrogation - tape 4)

You want to know what it means to be a killer?

You ever been to the art museum downtown?

They got this painting by a guy… forgot his name. Famous painter.

He did portraits of slaughtered cows hanging on hooks.

You take a normal person to a slaughterhouse and they will puke their guts out.

You make it into a painting and suddenly it's art.

There's no difference between the two. Not really.

Don't look at me like that. You know I'm right.

You get it. I know you get it.

You got to do something that matters. Make people feel something they've never felt before.

Shatter the illusion that any of us are really in control.

Think of the most profound thing you've ever done… the most beautiful thing you've ever created… and I promise you… it's nothing compared to watching the life bleed out of someone.

To see the fear in their eyes, to feel them pawing at you for release, to hear them pleading- begging…

That moment when someone realizes they are at their end…

That's when you feel it. That's true art.

That's what you have to be- an artist… a sculptor… an architect.

I see the gleam in your eye, Agent Munday, You're not fooling me.

Oh, look at you now, huh?

Am I going to be your first?

Well come on then- I'm right here.

This room is soundproof- you don't even have to wait for a plane to fly overhead.

There… There you are… I see you now.

Not bad… not bad at all.

Bare hands can feel good, huh?

But the blade makes for such a prettier picture.

You've got potential. Agent Munday…

If you truly want to be an artist.

__

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @ctrvpani @aydeenchan

@tinynightmarewoman @kindheartedgummybears @mybrainrotforreal (Know idea as ever with this character on who'd be interested in this but it was a good exercise at any rate)

[moreclaypigeons]

Mountain Goats fans how are we feeling

Jenny 2... I will put all my analysis about what these things mean under the cut. I would also like to note that after i took these screenshots the 11th (pirate ship sunset) just... disappeared? The post was gone for a fair bit but then came back. may have been a glitch. or maybe a ghost ship.

Here's what I'm getting story-wise:

Someone rode away on their custom Kawasaki with a stinger on the back, leaving the speaker there at the curb so they had to take a bus. But they never saw them again, no one did. Flaky yellow paint of the Kawasaki.. staying up late thinking about how the relationship ended. Time passes and it's winter and they have search parties out for this person. The person crashed while on their bike. And then the speaker realizes it. And the person is dead the end

Now in terms of allusions to the song Jenny:

"You roared into the driveway of our southwestern ranch style house": the house in the first image reasonably fits that description. "Our house faced west": based on the shadows here, the house DOES face either east or west because of the direction that the sun rises.

"on a new Kawasaki, all yellow and black, fresh out of the showroom.": It's the same bike! But, based on the line in the third post, "flaky yellow paint," some time has passed.

"the big orange sun" we see in the 11th image, where the pirate ship sails into the sunset. the image also alludes to "you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon," and "the pirate's life for me!"

post 10 is interesting because it too draws from the pirate's life line, but the imagery is different, and definitely connects/foreshadows the graveyard image. Here is an excerpt from the wikipedia page for jolly rogers: When the pirates' intended victim was within range, the Jolly Roger would be raised, often simultaneously with a warning shot. The flag was probably intended as communication of the pirates' identity, which may have given target ships an opportunity to decide to surrender without a fight.

Miscellaneous:

image 7, with the grecian vase imagery is reminding me of spent gladiator.

i have no idea what the fuck the water tower means.

image 12 depicts a music staff with some notes on it. i know nothing about music but i do know the internet does so i am currently trying to reconstruct it with a program. update mmaybe will follor?

other songs:

According to what John Darnielle has said in hit podcast "i only listen to the mountain goats," Jenny has appeared in 2 or 3 other songs.

"She calls on the phone in Night Light" and "she calls on the phone in Straight Six" and was the sender of postcards in Source Decay. He says, "She is defined by an absence, she has yet to speak. She's in the song Jenny; the other two songs she's in, she's already gone. …She's not there when things are going well, and she's not remembered when things are going well. Jenny is an emblem of more difficult times for people, of wilder times. But also times that they're pretty clearly romanticizing, right, that they're also remembering as the time when they were on a motorcycle with no responsibilities, livin' the pirate's life."

Of course I'm going to listen to those three songs <3

Night light: "Jenny calls from Montana/ She's only passing through / Probably never see her again in this life I guess" oh but we WILL see her again... And then never again. "I was a red dot blinking on a screen up overhead / And then the room went dark" and "Plug a night light in / Leave the porch light on" remind me of the bedside clock and the gas station.

Holy shit Straight Six. I didn't realize this was on Jam Eater Blues until I went to its page on the wiki, but- this is significant cause on their linktree, "stream jam eater blues" is at the top and i was confused cause they also released a bunch of other shit. this is foreshadowing...

Anyways significant moments of Straight Six:

"Dull powder blue paint job / earl scheib special" this could either be the auto station (#2) or the fact that the speaker's car has an earl scheib special paint job (had to research this), which maybe he got from the same auto shop. This song talks a lot about a car. "Rabbit skull hanging from the rear-view" "And I glide down the streets of this city / All night, uptight" "There's a crack in the windshield eighteen inches long / Evaporating snow forming crystals on the chrome" it's hard to tell from the drawing of the van whether there is a crack on the windshield or whether it's just stylized, but..this does intrigue me. And when I heard them mention SNOW immediately after... when the caption to the van post says "searching in the snow".......

Source Decay also mentions driving and cars a lot. Couldn't find anything more significant than what the other songs have though.

If anyone has any other thoughts to share or disagrees or like I missed something- PLEase share i am so eager to hear/talk about this!

[potatoes83]

Slice of life...

I had my first colonoscopy yesterday. Now, I'm only 40, 5 years too early to be thinking about this sort of thing, but apparently when your aunt dies of colon cancer, and then her sister, your mom, goes from absolutely nothing to stage 4 metastatic between normal screenings, you suddenly have a Family History, and doc wanted it done. Heh, I still find that somewhat amusing; suddenly and history are supposed to be antonyms...

They talk about the prep being the worst part, and yeah, certainly wasn't pleasant, but honestly, the worst part for me was the whole can't drink any liquids six hours before the procedure. That was at 1:00, so that basically means no water upon awaking. I like water. I drink a TON of water through the day. That sucked. The low fiber diet, annoying. The juice only for two days, annoying. The power-dumps on the toilet, annoying. But the being completely parched thing, that sucked hard. I would say a close second was having to remove the sticky tape from the IV from my rather hirsute arm; ended up with a bald patch and a little fur rug after a whole lot of cussing and fussing.

I had never been sedated before. I mean, I've never even had gas at the dentist. That shit is crazy! Dude squeezes a syringe in my IV, I ask how long does it take, he says about fifteen seconds, I say oh, OK, focus my eyes on one of the monitors hand is shaking my shoulder, wake up, all done. I'm in the recovery area. I am awake. Little loopy, but seriously, boom, nothing in between. Best nap I've ever taken! I felt, saw, heard nothing. Got dressed, checked out, went and got my mushroom reuben and fries on (and at least four glasses of water) since I was starving, and then just chilled around the house before a good night's sleep.

I know a lot of people don't get it done because it's, well... yeah. But I also know that a terrifying amount of young adult men in particular are being diagnosed with colon cancer, whether it's the crap we eat these days or whatever, and you have to catch that shit early, no pun intended. So I guess what I'm saying by sharing this is get it done. Don't put it off. It's really not so bad, and you're sound asleep for the most undignified part of it. 🥔

[final-girl96]

Ageless Secrets Chapter One

August 2007

It's been almost two years since the outbreak. The government, now known as FEDRA, finally had quarantine zones that people could go to. They had them set up a year after the outbreak happened. The QZs were in a lot of the major cities, New York, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, they were all over the place. Right now we were making our way to Boston. We tried getting in the one in Detroit, going all the way back home but it was clear it wouldn't happen as soon as we got there. The road to the QZ was backed up for miles. So we turned around and headed for the one in Ohio but that too was out of the question.

We then decided to just keep going. There was supposed to be one in Boston that wasn't even finished yet. We figured if we could get there early we could be one of the first to get in. But it was rough being out on the road. Supplies were hard to come by, no place was safe, we had to worry about raiders. This was a new world and the old world rules didn't apply anymore. People would kill you for whatever you had.

Eventually, we met up with other survivors. You know what they say, safety in numbers and all that jazz. We turned into those people that we would hide from. It's what we had to do to survive. It's that kind of world now that you kill or be killed. Hiding wasn't always an option. We car jacked, stole, killed, and left people for dead. I am nineteen now and I've been through too much for my age. I used to be scared all the time. I let Tess handle everything. But after A while those hopes and dreams that this whole outbreak would eventually be over vanished.

Cordyceps, that's what the sickness was, it's a fungus. At one point it only affected things like ants. It would attach itself to the ant and eventually make its way to its brain and take control. It used to never be able to survive in the human body with how high our body temperature was. But it adapted. There are three known stages of infection as of now.

Runners: The first and most common stage, occurring within hours or days of infection. They are still human in appearance, but lose control of their faculties and sprint you. Kind of like Andy had done.

Stalkers: The second stage, where the infected show physical signs of the infection, such as spores growing from their head and body. They are also more agile than runners. They like to stay in darker places and they like to follow you. They've been infected for at least two weeks and remain that way until about a year before going to the next stage.

Clickers: The third stage, where the infected become blood-hungry husks. They can't see you because of the fungus overing their face. But they have impeccable hearing and make this creepy ass clicking noise. They've been infected for a least a year or two.

You have to be careful no matter what with the infected, but they seem to like the dark more than being out in the day light. The dwell in builds where it's dark. You always need to so a sweep, being as quiet as possible when you go into a house or building to loat or stay in. You always need to be careful of any spores in the air. The Cordyceps isn't just inside the infected, it also grows around any that have been sitting somewhere for a while. The spores alone can infected you, so wearing a gas mask is the best option in those situation.

A few weeks ago we met two men, brothers. Joel, the oldest and his younger brother Tommy. Tommy was thirty-two, the same age as Tess and Joel was thirty-six or would be soon according to Tommy. Everything happened on Joel birthday, September twenty-sixth. I won't sit here and pretend that I didn't find Joel attractive the second I laid eyes on him. But he didn't pay any attention to me. Why would he? I'm a nineteen year old girl.

Joel didn't trust very easily either, not as easily as Tommy did. Tommy warmed up to Tess and I pretty quick. He the more reasonable one of the two. Joel and Tess had a lot in common, she wasn't very trusting either. I mean, I don't trust people anymore but I'm not as bad as Tess is. I would have trusted Joel in a heartbeat even after he put a gun to my head.

Yup, that's right, Joel had a gun to my head when we first ran into them. They thought we were trying to rob them and we thought they were trying to rob us. To be fair we were going to rob them and they were going to do the same to us. Tess had her gun trained on Joel, daring him to pull the trigger. Tommy was the voice of reason. He's the one that convince both of the to lower their weapons and talk. Tommy came up with the idea to band together all while Joel still had a hold of me.

“Let's put our guns down and talk about this. Joel, come on, she's just a kid.” I scoffed at that, “I'm fucking nineteen, asshole.” Tess glared at me. “Yn, shut up!” I rolled my eyes at her and let out a long sigh. “Joel, please, lower your gun,” Tommy pleaded. Only when Tess lowered hers, holding a hand up in surrender did Joel lower his gun. “Are you going to let go of me? I'm not one that likes physical contact all that much.”

It had all been quite thrilling and terrifying. When Joel finally let me go, he pushed me towards my sister, almost causing me to fall. “Fucking asshole!” Tess had grabbed me and pulled me behind her, telling me to shut up. They made a deal that we would all work together. But that doesn't mean we trust each other fully. Joel was cold towards us, at least he was to me. He got along with Tess more than he got along with me. I was ignored anytime I tried to pitch in ideas.

Tess forced me to stay back when they went to raid people. She acted like I never killed someone. I had killed more people than I'd like to admit. I'm nineteen and have killed men and women. You didn't see too many children anymore. For a while Tess couldn't even look at a kid. She could hardly look at me. I hated that she would make me hang back a lot, but I also understood why she did It.

“Alright, yn, you–” I cut her off with a roll of my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, stay here. Stay out of sight. Don't come out unless I tell you to. You're no help to us. You're useless. You'll just be in the way and get yourself or someone else killed. Blah blah blah.” She let out a heavy sigh, “Please don't start your shit. I just want you to be safe.”

“Whatever, Tess, just go.” I turned around and walked back into the building we had been sitting in for the past three hours. Joel and Tess were watching a group of men across the way. Tommy didn't seem to want to be a part of it but he was doing what we had to do to survive. “I'll stay back with her, keep an eye out from here.” I groaned, rolling my eyes back and stormed off. “I don't need a babysitter!”

“Keep your damn voice down!” Joel hissed at me. I spun around and gave him the finger, "Shove it up your ass!” His jaw clenched and he started after me. “Joel,” Tommy warned. “Yn, please, stop your damn attitude!” Tess said sternly. “Look here little girl–” That pissed me off even more. I know I was acting like a child, but I was getting sick of them treating me like I was unable to do anything.

“Little girl! Little fucking girl! Really? Go fuck yourself, Joel. All of you can go fuck yourself. You all act like I can't take care of myself. You act like I'm nothing but a burden to you. I'm so sick and tired of it. You always thought you were better than me Tess, just because you're older. You always have to be in charge. You're not the only one whole has been having a hard fucking time! I'm not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.”

[scoutbert]

Heyy idk if anyone here remembers me or cares but I figured I'd make a little life update just in case. And if not, maybe I'll just look back on it in a few years and smile.

I've had this blog for about ten years now. I was a freshman in high school when I began. It was memes, fandom, and the occasional depression. I even posted some pretty dark stuff a LOT of the time because I felt like I had nowhere else to vent.

Now I am 24. Twenty four!! I can't believe it. I lived!

I've been homeless, I've been traumatized. Went through a lot of stuff! If you like to feel sad and lurk, feel free to check out my tags for more context, haha. Some of it is pretty triggering and downright toxic so yeah take care of yourself.

But yeah. Twenty four. Sheesh. I am in a much better place now. I have an apartment with some friends and my partner. We have a little dog. I got a new car that I don't have to live in anymore. I work gigs like food delivery and dog walking. Money is always tight, but what else is new?

I still have a little problem with the booze and the weed, but I'm not searching for ways to destroy myself anymore. I don't seek chaos just because that's where i felt the most normal.

I'm learning to be okay with peace. And mediocrity. I used to- well, still do sometimes- compare myself to everyone I knew my age, people who had support systems I could never dream of, who went to college, and found their dream job. Who never wanted for anything. Always smiling.

I learned that it's not a competition. Life, that is. As long as I wake up every morning, I call that a win. It doesn't matter that this person from school makes six figures and already has a house and a kid. I get to wake up and walk dogs and look at trees and flowers, and I get to come home all sweaty and take a hot shower and make a sandwich. That's enough for me, for now. Much better than couch surfing and showering at planet fitness and eating gas station sandwiches.

Anyway. At the risk of overdoing it, I just wanna say thanks Tumblr. You were my anonymous diary for years. I received support from strangers I can never repay. I laughed at memes, made art, got in arguments about stupid shit.

I'm not leaving! Just expressing gratitude I never had. I am no longer full of hate. Just a morsel now, haha. There will always be a part of me that is bitter about everything I had to go through, and embarrassed at how I handled it. But I did my best and most people met me where I was at and accepted me anyways, even when I wasn't at my best. Thank you.

If I ever hurt you or exhausted you, thank you, and I am sorry.

Anyway. Yeah. Thanks. I'm doing okay. Good, even. Now that I'm not in crisis constantly- and I was in crisis for the better part of those ten years- I think I will find something I am passionate about, and work at exploring it. That sounds nice. :)

[rangerdoubt]

WIP WEDNESDAY

@glitchy-npc and me sneaking in on PST… brother. i haven’t done anything in a while. SO:

tagging @redwayfarers @thenightdayblogger @emeraldgreaves and like, anyone else who also wants to do it! it’ll be a wip whenever though bc it’s like six to midnight for me 🥲

miscellaneous stepverse/crime family au, because i like making my steps argue:

“I thought you didn’t drink,” you say when he raises a lazy hand in greeting.

“I don’t. But you do.” A flat little smile, all dimples and no teeth. He narrows his eyes at you and folds his hands around–

“Is that a Shirley Temple? Are you six?”

“Seven, actually. Order what you want. I’ll get the tab.”

You point an accusing finger in his direction and he raises his eyebrows in mock-surprise. “Don’t think you can start being nice to me now,” you grouch, but he waits until you sidle back from the bar and take a sip of your vodka Diet Coke before making his reply.

“Better?” You keep your grunt noncommittal and he wrinkles his nose. “I worry for you, that’s all.”

“How sweet. Wh–” You take another long sip. He manages to keep the benign little smile, but the furrow between Miguel’s eyebrows gets a little deeper as he waits for you to come up for air. Whatever. Good. You’re feeling a little better already. Calmer. Braver. Maybe this won’t go as badly as you suspect it might. “What’s wrong this time?”

the migjulia that i forgot about!

Julia traces a finger over the bare skin of your back. You swallow hard, and keep your eyes on your phone to keep from shivering.

“You know,” she says wonderingly, “I never—are you playing sudoku?”

You do your best to squint back at her but it cricks the hell out of your neck. “It’s a crossword. They’re completely different grids?”

“Oh, because that’s so much better. Is this, like, your equivalent of a cigarette or something?”

“Fuck o—kay.” You take a deep breath, stuck somewhere between an argument and laughter. “And if it is?”

“Then you’re a bigger nerd than I thought you were. Which says a lot.” Julia tucks herself tighter against your back, sticking her chin into the crook of your neck.

“You weren’t supposed to be in a position to find out,” you say dryly.

“Mmm,” you can hear the smile in her voice, smug and fond at once, “But I am.”

a bit of original fic that i’m still trying to wrangle:

It is—suffocatingly awkward, now that there is only two of them. And the angel. Always the angel.

“Will—how is he going to go—“

“Shut up,” says Tam stiffly. The leather of the steering wheel is squeaking in her hands, she’s squeezing it so tight. Max sinks deeper into her seat.

“Okay.”

It doesn’t sit right to have just—left Gavin there. He’d been—kind, almost. Sad in his own way. It made something turn in Max’s stomach to watch him just recede into the distance, like he’d given up as they pulled out of the gas station.

ALL IS AS IT SHOULD BE, MAGDALENE, says Melpomene in the rearview mirror. It’s humming again, blindfolded eyes turned toward the window. Its pair of lion’s claws are folded over each other, like any kind of house cat.

“Right,” says Max. She’s given up on correcting it. A name for a name, she supposes. “If you say so.”