#jesus Christ how much of my life has been spent in spell check

[laroldtheheralddd]

When you realize that dislexia diognosis has actual consequences…ramifications? what (googles other words for meaning) implications! And that the majority of your ability to spell and write is based on muscle memory and trail and erroring your way through things until spell check figures out what the fuck you’re trying to say.

What do you mean that effects stuff other then reading and handwriting, what do you mean other people don’t mix up the orders of lebbers lebbers HOW TF DO YOU SPELL LETTERS- nvm hang on fuck I got distracted proofreading my previous sentences and forgot my- oh right what do you mean other people arnt completely exaughsted and drained by writing HOLY SHIT ITS 10:42 when did that happen

Turns out physicaly typing out your writing process without the exstensive editing makes the issue a lot more obvious ._.

Fuck why did no one tell me you can mask dsylexia

[mikiruma]

I'M CLOSING TWITTER FOR THE NIGHT JESUS CHRIST ANYWAY I'M JUST GONNA INFODUMP UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE I'M GOING APE

HI I SPENT ALL DAY WANTING TO/STARTING TO WATCH TOTAL DRAMA SEASONS 4 AND 5 BECAUSE I WANTED TO SEE MIKE&.... AND MOOMOO DECIDED TO WATCH WITH ME BECAUSE THEY BINGED TDI SOMEWHAT RECENTLY..... AND IT TURNED INTO ME PERIODICALLY PAUSING TO TALK ABOUT OUR OWN SYSTEM AND COMPARING MIKE&'S WITH OURS SO AN 8 HOUR EVENT TURNED INTO AN ALMOST (CHECKS TIME) 12 HOUR ONE..... they went to bed a while ago so i'm finishing s5 by myself.... and it was cool because i know now they're wanting to get to know the others and ask questions and be involved(!!!!) BUT ALSO i know mike& in general is a controversial character.... but as someone who sort of relates to the internal conflict in a weird way or has this being our first time witnessing someone with DID have their alters identities respected and not being treated like a complete weirdo for being plural... i mean there's the mistreatment a la chris and scott triggering a switch intentionally to help himself in a competition.... but other than that!!! and the ending to s5 which i have not reached but spoiled myself with because i wanted to know what i was getting into before i started!!!! i'm legit falling in love with these guys and want to see them go places and it makes me appreciate the one fanwork i've seen rewriting them a bit even MORE...... also i know mal is the most stereotypical/worst rep of anything, for having a persecutor and knowing their roles i SHOULD be saying it's a little singlet bait-y and knowing they added him in the story as the main villain because they knew that's what people would have wanted to see instead of a system achieving healthy functional plurality.... but he reminds me a lot of our persecutor and how they acted back in the day, we haven't entirely patched up and they still have stumbling blocks sometimes but after getting to know them and realizing they're acting in good faith (even if the good faith is spelled out with self-sabotage), i just have a feeling maybe i need to psychoanalyze mal. ESPECIALLY because of mike (and to an extent the show) treating his headmates like EXTRAS instead as other fully fleshed people (at least in s4, though they got their moments to talk to each other and cooperate) and taking control/acting like the others were getting in his way of *his life*.... and mal being the host before but being locked away and having to force his way out and rule with an iron fist before he was given any mind.... that guy needs a hug. and everyone else (MIKE ESPECIALLY) may need to learn how to communicate better. mal just needs to feel important and get attention when he's doing things that AREN'T being mean or acting out.... also i think i just want to give mal a hug in general. not saying mike is the real villain of s5 but i AM saying when he was working with everyone to overthrow mal, they were very clear that mike being in charge, while better, was still not the best because they get pushed aside and not taken seriously.... so i think if they just went to therapy or TALKED TO EACH OTHER (I KNOW THEY CAN!!!! THEY HAVE A HEADSPACE THEY HANG OUT IN!!!!! IF MIKE WAS ONLY ABLE TO ACCESS IT BY THE COMPETITION NOW'S A GOOD TIME TO GET YOUR WORDS IN!!!!!) then it would have been a MILES better solution than. PERMANENT INTEGRATION AND CHOOSING TO CURE THEIR OWN DISORDER ALL BY THEMSELVES WITH NO HELP BY PUSHING A BUTTON IN THEIR BRAIN JUST TO GET RID OF ONE GUY THEY DIDN'T WANT TO TALK TO!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my god also i just want to mention i know svetlana was trying to be nice and encouraging saying they needed mike because he's better at some things than some of the other headmates but..... that coupling with the integration...... kind of hammers it in that everyone sees themselves as "extra" :( it makes me want to be more conscious of how i think/talk about OUR headmates because i want to try and make everyone feel welcome and valid.....

anyway sorry for the text wall i just love these guys so much but i HATE THE WRITING and i'm stalling finishing the s5 finale because i know they're going to do it and it's going to piss me off so much and i love ALL of them and want them to be ok..... it's hard for me to criticize much else because i can see us a lot in these guys and how things run.... and i'm disappointed they didn't show much else of mike& purely because i was watching the seasons just for them so everything else felt like filler.... IT WAS ENTERTAINING I JUST.... want to see more of them but WITH THE CORRECT DIAGNOSTIC NAME AND SEVERAL THERAPY TRIPS LATER LOL.....

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edit: finished!!! SO! mal admitting he was pushing people away so they didn't have the chance to hurt them first. the others saying integration wasnt getting RID of anyone, just making them a fuller singular person. GUYS I'M SOBBING.... i KNEW mal was doing the typical persecutor song and dance but with the way he even threw around his baggage like it was NOTHING. still upset at the integration since everyone was more willing to cease existing as they were altogether just so mal wouldn't be the host.... it breaks my heart.... ALSO I'M STILL OVER THE MOON ABOUT GIVING THEM A HEADSPACE AND THE LITTLE DETAILS IN THERE!!!! i legit don't know any other media featuring systems that INCLUDED that!!!!! god y'all the end of the system era was pretty disappointing but it just made me think of the guys i'm living with. i know i wasn't a perfect host and was definitely a control freak when i first discovered i was part of them, and every day i try to make that right.... so this just reminded me of those times in awareness infancy where i was like. ok but i'm the one who fronts the most so i must be the real one!!! obviously not true anymore because julian's the host now, i mean i'm still real but knowing that logic is pretty busted... hehehe.... even realizing i was only the host for a handful of years up to that point was a shock!!! but retroactively trying to work things through with everyone and getting us to a functional place despite not being able to see a therapist about it yet... this was weirdly heartwarming in a way? seeing the headmates in their natural habitat, just chilling. seeing them get into internal conflict. dissociation periods used as windows into their mind. mike starting as insisting he was the one in control and who SHOULD be in control, even willing to abandon everyone for zoey, but going to being the least willing to integrate because he would miss everyone and valued their existence.... i know they can only fit so much development in 20 min episodes of a show thats supposed to focus on multiple people (non-systems at least) so i think their story was cramped in that aspect, but if it were a more serious non-reality show focusing more on mike& in general it would have been WAY smoother. but like. i understand the shorthand and can see the allusions and whatnot. i know what they were trying to do. and i LOVE it. it's not perfect but this is the first time i watched something in a good while that felt like it encapsulated ANYTHING close to my personal experiences being in a system and being the disgruntled host, and seeing a little bit of my closest comrades in mike's headmates was just icing on the cake. :) i think the only thing i would have liked better was if instead of an integration they either agreed to work together and be more functional/rehabilitate mal, or if someone new split entirely to act as the mediator.. idk total drama is pretty stressful!! it's the right environment for it!!! and especially the inner system conflict!!! i don't know i think after all that, they needed someone to be the impartial third party to help settle conflicts and junk... just my onion though

[jungshookz]

hot cheetos and cosmopolitans; pjm

🗡️ pairing: park jimin x reader

🗡️ genre: spooktober day (5/7); zombieapocalypse!au; angst; this is an end of the world drabble so blood has been shed 

🗡️ wordcount: 2.3k

🗡️ summary: hot cheetos probably shouldn’t be the first thing on your list of things to find when you’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. 

(here’s the picture source!) 

                                        ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤

“so help me god, if you even reach for the chips right now, i swear to god i’ll shoot you.” jimin’s fingers barely brush over the bag of hot cheetos when you call him out

he lets out a little huff and retracts his arm before spinning around to look at you

“it’d be insane of me to not take advantage of the fact that i could eat all the chips i wanted to right here, right now!” he scoffs and gestures to the shelves lined with all sorts of potato chips

you’re surprised there’s still this many bags of chips left

unsurprisingly there’s not a lot in the canned section which was what you were dreading

“i told you to grab the nonperishables-“

“chips count as nonperishable food item-“

“i’m talking about things that are going to fill you up and keep you energised!” you gesture to your backpack before turning around to show him how fAT it is after you filled it up “you know, tuna, beans, soups, stews- water, we definitely need water-“

“you think there’s some coke around here? i miss coke.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes

you’ll just grab two jugs of waters and then you and jimin can head back to the base camp

you don’t remember a world before the apocalypse

you don’t remember your life before the apocalypse

well

okay

you remember soMe bits

you remember living in a nice neighbourhood in a nice apartment with your soft, cushy bed and your one hundred and one decorative throw pillows

you remember going to a nice university

you remember some of the friends you made at the nice university (including jimin)

you remember the morning of the day the announcement was made

that there was some kind of virus that was starting to spread around town

something about a dead deer? or was it a cow? you’re not too sure

you don’t remember too much of that because you peRsonally didn’t think it was that big a deal

you had bigger fish to fry!

like your psychology midterms and your history papers

and then you remember how pale your professor looked when he walked into class that morning

it was weird

he was oddly vEry sweaty

the bags under his eyes were sunken in and grey

“god, he should’ve just stayed home. then i could’ve stayed home. i could be sleeping right now. we could all be sleeping right now.” jimin mutters under his breath and you nudge his side in an attempt to get him to shut up

professor kim didn’t look… that bad….. right?

his eyes would occasionally do this thing where it just rolled upwards for a brief second and it was kind of concerning how many veins you were able to see from all the way in the back

his jaw would tick every now and then

you remember watching him pace up and down the lecture hall steps as he struggled with explaining walter cannon’s theory of fight or flight

in all honesty the poor man looked like he was about to pass out

and right as you had that thought, he literally collapsed to the ground at the front of the classroom

you remember the hushed silence that washed over the classroom

there was no protocol for this

what do people normally do when their professor passes out halfway through the lecture??

a couple of the students up front rushed over to make sure he was okay

watching your professor jolt back to life is something that you think will stick with you for the rest of time

it was terrifying

you remember pale his skin was

all his veins had gone from a healthy green to a coal black and you weren’t a scientist or anything but you were preTTY sure that veins weren’t supposed to be black

you remember the aggressive gnashing of his teeth

you remember the way he sunk his teeth into namjoon’s arm and you remember the pained scream that slipped past namjoon’s lips

you remember the way the room burst into chaos with people sprinting every which way trying to get out of the lecture hall as quickly as possible

and you remember the way professor kim looked at you while he was practically devouring poor namjoon

you stared into those cold, cloudy eyes and you felt like you were under some kind of spell

the fight or flight response was developed in the early 20th century and occurs when a person experiences very strong emotions associated with a perceived threat

american physiologist walter cannon believed that it was a built-in mechanism that assisted in raining homeostasis of the body

there are several physiological reactions that happen when the fight-or-flight response is activated

your pupils dilate

your heart begins to pound, begins to beat faster

you breathe heavily and you start to sweat

you feel butterflies in your stomach

your muscles tense

adrenaline starts to pump through your veins in an attempt to get you to go go gO

but you remember how frozen you were

you remember how frozen you were as you watched the fresh blood dripping from professor kim’s chin to the ground as he got up onto his feet

poor namjoon was twitching in pain and you remember standing there, truly shocked at how quickly his veins began to darken

namjoon was always very nice to you

he lent you a pen once and told you that you could keep it

you still had the pen

in fact you used it when writing all of your exams

namjoon’s pen was your good luck pen

it was difficult for you to process right then and there that this was the beginning of the end

that you had just watched your zombie professor bite into one of your peers

what the heLL were you going to do??? was it safe to go back to your apartment? how many people had been infected? what happens if yoU become infected?? is this happening back home?? are your parents okay?? is your goLdfish okay?? can goldfish even become zombies????

you were so preoccupied with what do i do what do i do what do i do that you didn’t even realise professor kim was heading straight for you

crawling over the lecture seats with such ferocity and gnashing his stained, yellow teeth wildly

“y/n, come on!” the thing that snapped you out of your trance of shock was the sound of jimin’s voice and the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your wrist

you remember him practically dragging you up the stairs because it felt like your shoes were made of cement

“m-my lunch, i left my lunch-“ you turn to glance over your shoulder and you catch a glimpse of your abandoned lunch bag sitting on your seat before the lecture door is suddenly slammed shut and about ten students are working to barricade the door with spare chairs and desks

but yeah

that’s pretty much all you remember of what happened beFore the zombie apocalypse

it’s just been you and jimin ever since

well, no

that’s not entirely true

there were originally seven of you

jungkook, taehyung, hoseok, jin, yoongi, jimin, and you

they were all jimin’s friends to begin with but the more time you spent with them, the more they began to accept you as one of their owN

it’s weird

it feels like it’s been a long time since you even thought about them

you’ve been so preoccupied with keeping you and jimin alive that you haven’t thought about them

hoseok was the first to go

you guys had stumbled across some kind of field and hoseok, being hoseok, decided he’d pick some daisies and make a flower crown or something since there was nothing else to do

it was like the zombie came out of nowhere and in a state of panic, jungkook (who happened to be the closest to hoseok in terms of distance) just fired without mercy because there was literally a zombie right there and that was his immediate instinct

hoseok, unfortunately, got caught in the crossfire

you guys buried him in the fields

you hadn’t even known hoseok for that long but you remember weeping as you tucked a daisy behind his ear

you tried to make a flower crown for him but it kept falling apart and yoongi reminded you gently that you guys needed to head somewhere safe before sundown

jungkook and taehyung were the next two to go

you guys had reached some kind of abandoned parking lot and jin thought it’d be a good idea to check the cars and see if there was anything useful in there

jungkook had been bitten on the shoulder and taehyung had been bitten on his forearm when he tried to intervene to save him

you didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to them because by the time you and jimin got back from exploring your section of the parking lot, the deed had already been done

jin was out two bullets and he didn’t want to talk about the fact that he had no choice but to shoot two of his closest friends

and then it was jin

you had never seen yoongi cry before and it was truly a strange sight because he was typically so void of emotion

the three of you walked in silence that afternoon and yoongi went straight to bed that night

and finally

it was yoongi

the thing was, with the virus, if you caught it fast enough, it wouldn’t spread to the rest of you

yoongi, thankfully, had been bitten on the hand, and all you had to do was a quick chOp to his wrist with the machete and he’d be as good as new

“y/n, you have to do it-“ yoongi grunts through gritted teeth as he places his hand on the tree trunk

you can see how quickly the virus is taking over

the blue veins under yoongi’s pale skin are starting to fade which means you have to act now or else you’ll really be in trouble

“i can’t!” you exasperate as your grip tightens around the handle of the machete “i can’t cut your fucking hand off are you inSAN-“

“y/n, just do it!!!!! jesus chriST, just do IT-“ jimin is freaking out behind you because he does NOT want to deal with zombie yoongi but he also doesn’t really want to watch a live amputation

“well why don’t yOU DO IT-“

“because it’s GROSS-“

“how do you think i feEL-“

“can one of you please just-“ the sound of yoongi’s pained shriek combined with the crack of his bones will definitely haunt you for the rest of your life

you thought yoongi would be okay after the amputation

it was a pretty clean cut!!!! it was actually kind of impressive how clean it was

maybe you would’ve made a good doctor

yeah

maybe

you thought everything would be alright

but no

of course, of course it had to get infected

and of course yoongi had to fall sick

and of course you had to hold yoongi as you watched him die in your arms

“please don’t go…” your throat has gone raw from all the sobbing you’ve been doing and yoongi chuckles weakly and reaches up to brush his fingers over your cheek in an attempt to wipe your tears away “please, you can’t leave us like this-“

jimin is starting to get misty eyed as well but he tries his best to keep it together because onE of you has to be strong

“i’m just glad i’m not dying of a nasty zombie bite.” yoongi croaks

it’s obvious he’s trying to get you to crack a smile but you can’t

you can’t laugh when yoongi is dying and there’s nothing you can do about it

the last thing he said before his eyes finally fluttered shut was a) jimin is not allowed near anY chips because he’s going to eat himself sick and b) it’s up to you to save the world

which is how you ended up here

just you and jimin in the middle of this abandoned grocery store picking up bits and pieces of food

“we gotta huStle if we wanna make it back before the sun goes down, jimin…”

“yeah, i know, i know…” jimin turns to shove a couple comic books into his backpack

“here, i wanna read this later-“ you hand jimin a magazine and he scoffs at the cover

“cosmopolitan?? are you for real?? how is- hOW is the 8 types of booty-call relationships going to help us in a zombie infestation???”

“…horny zombies?”

“that’s just nasty.”

yep

it’s just you and jimin against the world

(you snuck a couple bags of hot cheetos into your backpack to surprise him with later)

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a spooky request)

spooktober masterlist // main masterlist

[8makes1cheese]

Mr. Handsome Stranger

Pairing: Yeosang X Reader

Tags: cursing, shitty attempts at comedy, fluff

Words: 1.7k

A/N: YAY my first fic! Go easy on me HEHehehe... ahem. ANyways, I hope it’s decent. The Ateez boys deserve more love and Atinys need more content dammit. Even if it’s my shitty writing hahahaHA. I promise to (try) to get better with my writing. Like seriously I feel like this is so shitty, but I’m having some blocks on ideas and having trouble starting stories. Also If I didn’t decide to just post this, nothing was going to be posted. ALSO, gotta give credit where credit is due of course, I got the inspiration for this story here. Well, enjoy?

"Okay, deep breathes. In and out. Inhale...exhale." I was currently parked curbside waiting for the time to hit noon. I had a job interview at my local library and was in the process of trying to psych myself up and calm my nerves at the same time. I glanced at the clock on my dashboard and it read 11:02 A.M. They like it when you show up early right? It shows that your punctual and responsible and shit. I rolled my eyes at myself. Why the hell did I show up so early? 

I wanted this job so bad. Working at this library has always been a dream of mine. They also have never had an open position here for years. Sure, you could volunteer your time here, but it has always been the same women working here for more than a decade. One of the ladies is good friends with my mother and knew that I would jump at the chance to land a job at my favorite place in town. I sighed and looked at the clock again. 11:06. I whined to myself and turned the heater on in my car. If I wasn't going to woman up and get my ass out of this vehicle, I might as well get cozy since I seem to be too chicken shit to hang out in the building I've spent the majority of my life in. I know I could just go in and browse through the isles of books before my interview. All the librarians know me by name, I know all of theirs. Like my mother and Thalia, my mothers friend who works at the library, said when they told me about the job opening, I'm guaranteed to get it. But, I still have anxiety and it seems like one of my favorite things to do is worry and assume the worse. I wrapped my cardigan tighter around me and turned up my heater. It was definitely a cold one today. It wasn't raining just yet, but the sky was steely gray with storm clouds. It was pretty calming actually, my favorite weather was stormy weather and grabbing a hot chocolate from the neighboring cafe and snuggling up in the warm library was sounding so good right now. Yes, keep thinking that way, maybe it'll actually get you to get the hell out of this car. As I was convincing myself that a hot chocolate sounded perfect a car pulled up and parked behind me. I didn't pay much attention to it, at least not until the person who was driving the car got out of it. I herd the door slam shut and glanced at my side-view mirror. Well, shit. The man that had exited the car was probably one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. His hair was light brown. Dark blonde? Light brown. Whatever, you know what I mean. He had on a silky looking dark brown button up tucked into black skinny jeans and a black suit jacket to complete the ensemble. A simple black string wrapped around his throat. Damn, he has no business looking that good. I chuckled to myself. Thirsty bitch. I watched as he pointed his key fob at his car to lock his door and started walking to my side of the car. Wonder where he- My eyes widened and my heart sped up for a second when he stopped at my car door. What is he...? He turned his body towards me and bent over slightly looking right into my car window. I started to freak out when I remembered. Wait, my windows are tinted... holy shit, he can't see me. I smirked, enjoying a better look at this handsome man. It seemed like he decided to stop and use my car window as a mirror to check himself out. I observed him as he straightened out his shirt and ran his fingers through is hair. Damn, he looks even better up close. He seemed to have a bit of a nervous air about him. Maybe an important meeting? Maybe a ...date? I was tempted to roll down the window and scare the pants off him. (Oh, Mister Handsome Stranger with no pants...okay (y/n) get your mind out of the gutter for once.) And so I did. The look he had was absolutely priceless when he noticed the window start to roll down. Shock and embarrassment were written all over his perfect face. I plastered on a giant grin as most of my face became visible. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fishy Adonis and before he could say anything, I somehow had the confidence to say, "Don't worry, you look really good. Honestly you are unnaturally beautiful for a man. Like, seriously, you're prettier than my sister; and trust me, she's so pretty that she got a acting gig for a commercial advertising medicine for genital warts.", but you know, I have absolutely no confidence in myself to get a job that I'm almost guaranteed to get. Mister Handsome Strangers face turned red and he started busting up laughing. Oh no, your laugh sounds as beautiful as you are. "Thank you, I think I should take that as a compliment?" He said through his laughter. Jesus Fucking Christ, your voice sounds even better. "Oh yeah, it's definitely a compliment." Once he caught his breath he cleared his throat he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry." he told me. "I had no idea someone was in the car- your car. I-I mean- I didn't know you were in..." he stuttered out. I chuckled as his cheeks became just a little pinker. "It's alright really. My windows are obviously tinted so nobody would be able to tell that I'm just sitting in my car being a creep." He slightly smiled at me. "Why are you just sitting in your car being a creep?" he asked. Is he really starting a conversation with me? I glanced at the clock on my dash. 11:14. "Oh. I'm sorry." He let out a nervous chuckle. "I'm probably keeping you from something, and also being a creep I guess just randomly asking why your in your own car. I should-" "NO! I-I mean, no, it's okay. I just have a job interview at the library at noon and I was just making sure I wasn't going to be late for it." I let out a small breathy laugh and rubbed my hands on the steering wheel. His shoulders looked like they lost most of their tension and he sent a small smile my way. "Well your awfully early. Don't want to make them think your too eager now do you?" I snorted. "Well I haven't even entered the building yet. I have to leave the car for them to think that now don't I?" He grinned at me. "I guess that's true." Your smile is giving me heart palpitations. I took a deep breath as discreetly as I could. Bad Idea. Holy shit, he smells like heaven. "SO STRANGER-" Dear Gods, could you have been any louder!? "Ahem- so, you look dressed for some sort of occasion." His eyes widened and he had the look like he just remembered something. "O-oh, right, I'm-" He coughed into his balled up fist. "I-uh I have a... blind date at noon." I raised my eyebrow at him then grinned. "Well your awfully early. Don't want to make them think your too eager now do you?" I could tell he tried to suppress a grin and he rolled his eyes. "Ah, but I haven't even entered the building. I have to be in the cafe for anyone to think that now don't I?" I laughed and he laughed along, when we both calmed down he told me that him and his blind date were actually supposed to meet at 11:00 but that she was running late and texted him before he left and that she'll be at the cafe a little before noon.  He took his phone out of his pocket, glanced at it, and sighed. He looked almost.. disappointed. "I should probably head in, just in case she gets here a little early." I nodded a little too enthusiastically. Don't make your disappointment obvious. You have literally known this man for like 20 minutes. "Well, I hope you have a fantastic time on your date, who knows, maybe she'll be the one." I winked at him and immediately regretted it. By the Gods, why are you so lame. That was so damn cringey. My cringey-ness seemed to go over his head as he softly smiled at me and said, "And I hope you get this job. You're going to do great in the interview. Make sure to tell them about your sister that was in that genital warts commercial, you'll get the job for sure with that." This boy is making my cheeks hurt with all the smiling he's making me do. "I'll be sure to lead with that. It was nice to meet you..." He held his hand just outside my car window. "Yeosang." I took his hand in mine and softly shook it. I want to hold your hand forever. "Yeosang..I'm (y/n)." "(y/n)...it was a pleasure to meet you too." he said softly. My name sounds incredible coming from you, please say it again. He smiled at me and backed away, walking around my car to get to the sidewalk and making his way into the cafe that was neighbors with the library. I watched Yeosang enter the cafe and I took a deep breath. It wasn't often that I met someone that was literally perfect. I rested my head against the seats head rest (I mean that is what it is for right?) and closed my eyes for a moment. I couldn't believe I struck up a conversation (If you could even call it that.) with a random stranger. I don't do that. Why did I do that? I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. 11:34. If I have the confidence to do that, then dammit, I have the confidence to kill this interview. An interview that I'M GUARANTEED to kill in the first place, but still. I shut my car off and grabbed my phone and wallet from my center console. I exited the car and smiled at my future place of work. Alright, lets do this shit.

A/N pt2: spEAKING OF PT.2, I wanna do a pt. 2 to this? I’m still unsure of this story but I immediately had a idea of how to continue this as I was spell checking through it? So yeah. Hope you liked it <3 Anyone reading this, feel free to shoot me a request! I could always use new ideas and inspiration to keep me going. Have a good day/night~

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Spider-Man 2099 v4 #1 and 2099 Omega Thoughts

This is literally the third time I’ve purchased a comic book called Spider-Man 2099 #1 in 5 years. Technically more if we include reprints. Isn’t that kind of ridiculous?

Fun fact, I wasn’t buying any comics (sans some pre-OMD Spidey and Deadpool Classic trades) between 2009 and 2014. It was the 2014 Spidey 2099 run that got me back into the game, for good or ill.

This issue wasn’t nearly as good at series. And Omega was…lol…it was so bad and essentially an extension of Spidey 2099 I’m covering them together.

I remember fondly my hype when I saw Miguel in ASM v5 #25 and my hype for this one shot, back when I didn’t realize it was just part of a larger event.

Oh boy did this let me down.

Let me start with some superficial praise.

The art for Spidey 2099 and Sandoval on Omega were decent. And there was some interesting ideas pertaining to the world of the future, such as the removal of money and instead having everyone’s value depend upon what they can contribute. A society built upon meritocrisy, albeit with harsh reprisals if you can contribute little. Also the idea of corporations fixing things so only insiders can gain employment speaks to the corporatocracy  of the 2099 universe (one severely undermined when we consider Doom is ultimately in charge anyway…). People intentionally using drugs to keep up their work productivity is another great idea, and a genuinely interesting twist upon the original depiction of the rapture drug from Spidey 2099 v1 #1.  Finally people essentially enabling identity theft in exchange for drugs was an interesting sci-fi concept.

But beyond that…this was bad.

When I began covering this event proper with 2099 Alpha my dominant critique was ‘who is this for’.

A reboot of the 2099 line over 20 years since the original line ended and less than 3 years since the revival of it ended? A reboot intended to modernize the 1990s’ take on the future, a take that frankly proved 99% accurate anyway. And finally a reboot that alternated between doing spotty world building, killing off new characters, tie-ins to modern canon events and most of the time communicated its ideas in confusing and baffling ways.

I put forward that it was doomed to displease the old 2099 fans like me because it was erasing what we knew and loved. But it was also so poorly communicating its rebooted vision that new people were going to be alienated.

I’m only slightly going to backtrack on what I said. Because the Punisher 2099 issue was if you like the greatest argument in favour of the reboot. It wasn’t just the best issue in this mess, it was a bona fide awesome story just in general. It actually dived into an aspect of futuristic sci-fi that the 1990s 2099 series (to my knowledge) would’ve struggled to cover as it pertained so much to 2010s life and technology.

More poignantly though, the problem with this event is that there was no over arching vision between the titles. Not every one shot had the same problems but they all in different ways displayed problems that smacked into the very premise of this event.

F4 2099 was literally pointless as it spent a whole issue introducing a new F4 then killed them.

Conan 2099 could’ve been virtually the same if Conan was like 20 years in the future not this new future we rebooted.

Arguably Punisher 2099 relied upon familiarity with the Jake Galloway Punisher 2099 before it subverted your expectations.

Ghost Rider 2099 was fun but the writer clearly LIKED the original take on the character to the point where he essentially minimized changes to the rebooted version making the act of rebooting the character pointless in the first place and failing the mission statement of the event.

Venom 2099 was a weird tie-in for Cates current Venom mega arc involving Knull that was nonsensical as it proposes that Knull is still en route to Earth and thus in theory there is no tension in Cates’ run. Moreover it wasn’t much of a futuristic take on Venom himself and fundamentally hurt as there was no Spider-Man for Venom to act as a dark reflection of.

Doom 2099 in fairness had a cool twist, but a cool twist that didn’t make sense in and of itself and was also reliant upon familiarity with the original 1990s character.

And then we come to these issues.

These issues I’m sad to say just absolutely fundamentally fail conceptually.

He’s incredibly passive and very bland as a character so newer fans coming in with no knowledge or attachment to the Miguel O’Hara of old are unlikely to warm to him. His defining trait is being someone who cares enough about the suffering of others that he will not actively take part in it, but will also not actively do anything to help like his brother Gabe. This is then set up for his brother to die, cue a less good retread of Peter Parker’s origin story but minus much action of Miggy in costume. On paper the idea of a guy experiencing Peter’s ultimate failure and from this being motivated to OBTAIN super powers is interesting but it’s just not examined all that much in the story. What I’m saying is at a time when there is a sea of Spider-Heroes to read about on the stands this version of Miguel O’Hara is lame, derivative and the execution of his character half-hearted.

Then on the other hand you have the older fans’ perspectives. Obviously old Spidey 2099 fans are unlikely to take to this new version just on principle. But when you realize you lost the old character for THIS guy…oh boy does that sting.

Original recipe Miguel O’Hara was cool because he zigged where Peter zagged. He was kind of an asshole, but one with limits on how little he cared. And he became more heroic over time, but never the same type of hero as Peter. And above all he was a sarcastic, sardonic, cynic who you could tell was thinking ‘I can’t even with this Spider-Shit right now’. Case in point, he was okay with straight up killing opponents. He was more unique and much more compelling than this version, as were his cast. Lyla is basically the Aunt May of this story and not the source of humour that she was even in the first 3 issues of the 1990s run. She also lacks her iconic Monroe look, and isn’t even consistent with how she looked in ASM v5 #35.

Losing a cool character for a lame one would be bad enough but then the story straight up invalidates both itself and the entire goddam event.

It does this by having the rebooted Miggy start to see visions of the pre-rebooted (prebooted?) 2099 timeline, meet an aged version of his prebooted self and then have even more flashes of the prebooted timeline. *

Wow…Just….Wow…

Let’s pretend that the vision of 2099 in this event was a temporary thing, an Age of Apocalypse or a House of M just for 2099 and the plan was always to go back to how it was before when the story wrapped up.

That makes this entire event pointless. See the reason AoA worked (and HoM in theory could have worked) is because it was a temporary change of pace.

That doesn’t apply to the 2099 line, a nostalgic, discontinued line of comics and characters that are unlikely to get a full on revival and who’s last attempt at a revival wrapped up over 2 years ago.

THIS event should’ve been a nostalgia trip for the old fans and a chance to introduce that line to a new generation. Instead it discarded the old in favour of something new which was seemingly intended to go nowhere.

Good job Marvel, any new fans you MIGHT have gotten hooked just got fucked over and people like me who pre-ordered this event thinking we were going to get the characters we knew and loved also got fucked over.

And in fact the entire exercise was an example of intentional redundancy.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Oh and it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

So Miguel was thrown back in time when his timeline was starting to be erased and replaced with the rebooted timeline, then he was erased in ASM v5 #34, which began this new rebooted timeline…but he is alive in it, remembers it, can give his past self visions from the old timeline...

…I’m a Doctor Who fan and that’s not any kind of wibbly wobbley timey whimey nonsense. It’s just regular ass nonsense, just like the Man-Spider monster Miguel encounters who repeats ouroboros to him, the same word ReedDoom said in the Doom 2099 issue. How and why would the Man-Spider creature say that to Miguel. How would prebooted Miguel know it said that? How and why would rebooted Miguel see Spidey 2099 in costume spray painting that?

Shit what the fuck does ouroboros even mean?????????

*one google search later*

A snake eating its tail as a symbol of endless infinity…what the fuck does that mean?

That Miguel makes himself Spider-Man 2099 always?

There was a cool idea in the Omega issue wherein we learn Doom essentially erased everyone’s memories with magic so they’d forget the Age of Heroes altogether, but the rise of the characters in the one shots represented that spell breaking down. Too bad it doesn’t add up given how Venom was always going to exist and existed SINCE the Age of Heroes and people obviously remember Thor as there is an entire tribe dedicated to him!**

However the Omega issue’s biggest sin is showing us how truly pointless most of the issues of this event were. Honest to God you only need to read Doom scenes from Alpha and then Spidey 2099 and Omega. Those are the only plot relevant issues out of this whole event.

Over all, these issues and this event have been a humungous, insulting disappointment. Check out some of the art but literally nothing else sans the Punisher.

*I mean if you want to get technical the 2099 universe has technically been rebooted multiple times. The version of it presented from 2013-2017 actually differed from the original 1990s version in various ways, e.g. Miguel’s love life panned out very differently. When I refer to the pre-rebooted/prebooted timeline I’m referring to the version from 2013-2017, just to be clear.

**There are other contradictions in these 2 issues as well, like how poverty and bad health have been erased but…we see they haven’t as there are multiple examples of both in the one shots.

[ribbonshades]

☾  identity

It was much harder than any other game Charles had played, and he didn’t think he would win. It was days of willing his frail body to keep running away from Noise and Reapers, hiding in the alleyways of London and ducking into store fronts to survive. No matter where he went, though, he knew that the Composer had her eyes on him the whole time and that she decided arbitrarily who wouldn't move on at the end of each day, anyway. Luckily for him, she seemed to have a soft spot for the shy, defenseless ones. Soft to the point of being rotten, probably. 

"It's Charles," he'd mumble every time she got his name wrong. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Your name is written [REDACTED] in your soul, you see. It's nothing personal, love." Eliza waved her continuous mistake off, making his heart sink to his stomach. But he was too timid to say anything more. 

"You're so precious, [REDACTED]," she'd say, insistently reaching forward and brushing her thumb over his cheek. He flinched away from the touch, only ending up with her repeating the process, more roughly this time. "I love mixed Asian girls, I can't wait to doll you up," she went on. Charles felt numb, ice seeping in his bones. She'd smile serenely and bid him well on the day's mission. Day after day, he wondered if he should have joined Mom and Dad if it meant sparing him this. 

In the end, she and her preferential treatment were the only reasons he survived the Game. Someone he didn't recognize stood next to her when the end of it came. They looked otherworldly, high strung, sympathetic, tired. They reminded him of the only teacher he had that referred to him as a boy. He felt like he could trust them.

"Charles, correct?" the newcomer said. His face brightened and he nodded. "Ah, good. Well, congratulations on winning the Game. It has been quite a week, mm?" 

Eliza was nearly bubbling over with excitement, already her basket was full of 5 pairs of new, lamp shaped wings and Charles could feel that she wanted him to be her sixth. He swallowed and tried to keep his eyes up on the stranger in front of him. 

"You may come back to life, or you may live the rest of your existence in the London UG, as a Reaper. What would you like to do?" the figure said. 

"Uhm… I… have a question…" Charles mumbled. 

"Yes, dear?"

"My parents… they're gone, right…?" he said, swallowing back heavy tears in his throat. The stranger gave a small, weary sigh. 

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Do you have other family that would take you in?" they asked, their brow knit with the slight worry they allowed themself to show. 

"... No," Charles exhaled. He truly didn't know what would be the better option. If he went back to the RG, he would be forced to live as someone he wasn't, without his medications that served as his lifeline. He may even be strong enough to end it all, if it came to that point. But if he stayed in the UG, while he would still struggle to live as Charles, his body would stay the same. He could escape, one day. And, well, if it didn't go favourably, he supposed he had the option of ending it all then, too. 

Charles shivered. Eliza was watching him with wide, glassy blue eyes, her silver hair in curls framing her face. 

"I'll… become a Reaper," he said, looking up at the angelic figure with tears welling in his eyes. 

"... Alright. If that is what you wish, Charles." 

-x-

He was whisked into a whirlwind of a first few days as a Reaper. He was given a dormitory to live in, a small one bedroom with a communal bathroom, the wings separated by gender. His closet was full of tartan skirts and blazers that he resented, the desk piled high with books on the UG, Reaper powers, and the history of London. As soon as he was settled and dressed appropriately in the wrong gender’s uniform, he was subjected to various tests that drew out his Reaper power and tested his Noise Form. 

"Shadow powers? Oh, that is lovely, [REDACTED], I've been needing a new Reaper in the Espionage department," Eliza gushed. The pile on his desk grew higher with texts on spying and assassination techniques. He was assigned a number, used in place of his old name when necessary. He almost liked the number better.

His only respite was Allen, the only person who seemed to be able to keep Eliza in check. Charles couldn't quite tell what gender they were either, though Eliza referred to them as a woman, as Alexandra. He wondered if that was the reason why they were the only one to call him Charles. He decided he liked them, and he looked forward to spending time with them, whenever he could, and upon seeing the amount of work they did for the city, he gained a great respect for them. 

"Say, have you ever wanted to alter your appearance or anything?" they had asked one day while they were eating crumpets for afternoon tea time. 

"Ah– Uhm, sometimes…" he responded, nearly dropping the butter knife into his cup. They knew very well that he did, why were they bringing this up? 

"You've always seemed a tad uncomfortable in your skin, Charles. What would you change?" They smiled knowingly. 

"Well… I guess I want to look cooler… like an albino bunny?" he said, tilting his head. 

"Aha, bunnies are cute though!" Allen smiled, leaning back. He felt his lips move on their own, cracking a small smile himself. 

Other than those rare, fleeting moments, Charles endured his day to day, undergoing harsh training to optimize his powers and to sharpen his skills as an assassin. He was showered with praise and unwanted affection from Eliza, with comparisons to various female, Asian assassins in media. 

"Oh, but you wouldn't turn against me like some of them do, will you, love?" Eliza smiled, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the forehead. 

The thought never occurred to him, but after he mulled over the possibility, he couldn't stop thinking about it. 

-x-

Once it was all done, Charles left a note on his pillow addressed to Allen and fled the city. He sunk into his shadow the instant the rest of Eliza's body dissipated into static, only narrowly catching the salute of gratitude from the newly crowned Composer. Truly, there was no real threat to staying in London, but he didn't want to wait around to be employed by the new monarch and to spend eternity repeating the last two years. He appeared somewhere outside the bounds of the city, where he wasn't sure if his powers would be as reliable anymore. With nowhere else to go, he did what any respectable Brit on the run would do and boarded a train to Paris. RG or UG, he knew any Parisian would help him in his escape if they knew he was trying to get away from London.

With some luck and a shaky conversation in half English and half French, he ran into a winged man who he knew would be able to help him. Charles briefly explained an embellished version of the truth, though the man connected his story of "I was wrapped up in a political scandal" with the news of Queen Eliza meeting her demise and was delighted to help him. 

"Please, do stay 'ere!" the man offered, "I can only 'ope to assist ze one who ‘az liberated London!" 

"Uhm… Do you know who could change my appearance, maybe…?" Charles asked, tugging on his hair nervously.

Somehow, Paris was a vain enough district that there were powerful Reapers who's sole purpose was cosmetic alterations. He was face to face with yet another Reaper whose gender he couldn't determine at first glance. 

"Ah… S'il vous plaît, uhm… Cheveux… court? Courts? Et blanc? Blanche? E-et, les yeux… rouge," he stuttered, holding up a picture of the haircut he wanted. The Reaper clicked their tongue and nodded. 

"Rouge vif ou foncé?" they responded, and jesus christ Charles would have to learn French fast if he wanted to stay here. 

"Vif… ah… comme ça, ici–" Charles pointed at a bright red fabric scrap hanging from the Reaper's belt. They gave a thumbs up and gestured for him to get onto the table and lay down. The procedure itself was quick and painless, and he couldn't help but smile when a mirror was brought to show him his new reflection. 

"C'est tout pour vous aujourd'hui?" the Reaper asked, tilting their head. Charles took a breath. He had blindly trusted Allen and gotten favourable results there, so… 

"Ah, euh… Aussi… Ici…?" Shakily, Charles pointed his hand downwards to the bottom of his torso. The Reaper watched him and waited for him to continue. 

"... Efface-là, s'il vous plaît." 

-x-

He spent almost two years district hopping across Europe, learning several languages along the way. It was wonderful, having freedom. He relished being able to dress how he wanted, being able to use his powers for something less ugly for once, focusing on learning how to configure his stealth powers into various cute animal forms. His tour ended in France again, this time in the southern city of Marseille as a bunny hopping around the gardens flanking the mansions. The day was just beginning, and Charles was just basking in the sun for a spell when–

"Papa! Un lapin!" 

He peeked his eyes open to see a young boy run out of the terrace area towards him. A girl stood at the door warily, watching her brother move with such little restraint over a grey lop in the grass. Charles was picked up into the boy's arms and brought inside, placed on a cushion and fought for in frantic, accented French that he couldn't quite understand fully. It seemed that the mother was trying to argue that they couldn't take care of a bunny, and the boy fired back that they should at least take care of him until they find the owner. It was one phrase in specific that had him, though. 

"Nous pouvons être sa famille!" 

At that, he burrowed closer to the boy. The mother conceded and instructed a butler to purchase supplies to temporarily house a bunny. In the meantime, the boy hugged him, victorious. 

"Je m'appelle Jean, Monsieur Lapin! Et vous?" the boy grinned. His sister sighed and came over to pet him on the head, too. Charles wondered if he could imprint an RGer from this form, seeing that he asked his name– so he tried it, suggesting his own name in Jean's head. 

"Hm… il ressemble à… Charles!" Jean grinned and squeezed Charles more, the latter utterly confused at how it worked, despite the French accent making his name something quite different. Moreover, considering how Charles was very much not a French name in the least, it will be interesting to see how he justifies this to his parents. 

Nobody minded, though, and the missing bunny posters went largely ignored. Once two months had passed, the father patted his head and announced that the rabbit was now part of the Duvert family. 

Charles' nose wiggled happily at having one again. 

-x-

After years of obsessively consuming anime and video games, Charles could barely believe that he was now living in Japan. As a bunny, of course– he couldn't get away with running off for a week quite as often as he did before, but he knew Carel's schedule and he knew how to teleport out of his cage, so he spent many a day loitering around Shibuya until it was time to head back home.

It was a lovely routine, though it lasted only months. That December, Jean died in an accident that Charles knew resulted in him playing a game. He wanted to go to where he died and work the game and ensure his survival, but Carel's grief was too much for her to bear by herself. Charles steeled himself, hoping that he could come back and waiting for the day Carel's memories of his death were wiped, to no avail. 

Wanting answers, Charles waited for a time where Carel would be out of the house for longer periods of time and took a train to Kawasaki, where Jean died. 

"Haha, you're gonna get erased if you don't keep up, newbie!" Jean laughed horridly, blood from his last erasure still speckled on his glasses. 

"I'm… keeping up…" Charles gritted his teeth, keeping an eye out for the partner of the Player he had erased earlier that day. 

"Sure you are. You couldn't keep up with me, I bet," Jean retorted, licking his lips. Charles squeaked as Jean moved closer into his space, his arm resting on the wall behind him. "Maybe you can keep up in other ways, though. What do you say?" he asked, his voice lowered. 

"N-no thank you," Charles huffed, quickly slipping into his shadow to safety. The district had done awful things to Jean, and Charles couldn't bear to see more. He made an effort to avoid Jean for the rest of the game and slipped away from Kawasaki as soon as he was able. 

-x-

"Charles! I missed you!" Jean said, holding his arms out to hug the bunny. "It's been so long, huh?" 

Not as long as you think, but I'm glad that Carel knows you exist now, Charles thought, snuffling in Jean's arms. 

-x-

"You, ah. Knew I was a Reaper even before I came to Shibuya?" 

"Uhm… yeah. I worked a week in Kawasaki while you were there, and…" Charles trailed off, looking to the floor to avoid seeing Jean's reaction. 

"Ah," Jean responded, "I remember now. I, uh… I'm sorry." 

"Be sorry to yourself, you tried to get your pet bunny in bed with you," Charles scoffed. 

"H-hey, I was just like that back then, it was a phase–!" Jean squawked indignantly, failing to save face. 

"A phase is something that ends, Jean…" Charles tsked, turning back to his newly decorated room. He heard Jean sputtering more behind him as he closed the door. 

-x-

A few months after becoming Conductor, Charles sat down with Jean and told him how he became a Reaper. It went exactly as he thought, Jean crying on behalf of him and wallowing in pity that wasn't even for him. 

"Sorry," Jean breathed, wiping his glasses, "I just can't believe everyone has gone through hell. Please tell me you're happier now, where you are." 

Charles reached forward and swiped his thumb over Jean's teary eyes, wicking away more moisture, his palm resting on his cheek. Jean's eyes widened at the gesture, having never seen Charles be that physically intimate with him before. 

"I'm much happier now that I can finally be who I am. So, thank you, Jean." Another rare smile surfaced on Charles' face, and the combination seemed to be too much, as Jean burst into fresh tears right after. 

-x-

With approved leave, Charles arrived back in London, almost 15 years after he last left. He was dressed smartly, a dark grey suit with a red tie, and a pair of rabbit shaped cuff links that Jean had lent him for good luck. He still remembered well the way towards the entrance of the God's Palace, and his feet led him there without much thought. Once just inside, he approached the reception. 

"Hello, I'm the Conductor of Shibuya, here to meet with the Producer of London," he said. The receptionist looked over the schedule and gestured for him to sit down. It was a short wait before Allen appeared at the door, looking a little confused at having a meeting with a foreign Conductor, though the answer was clear as day as soon as they laid eyes on the man sitting in front of him. 

"You're alive," Allen remarked once they had gone outside for privacy. 

"I am." 

"You're also taller than me now," they laughed, looking up. With the slight heel of his shoe, Charles was indeed 5 inches taller than he was before. He chuckled and took a seat on a bench nearby, Allen following suit. 

"What made you reach out? I thought you'd never come back with the letter you left me," they said, their hands folded in their lap. 

"I was telling my friend… the Composer, about how I became a Reaper, and I realized that I never got to thank you." Allen tilted their head, a brow raised.

"For not intervening in Eliza's assassination? I mean, I'm not supposed to get involved in that, but–" 

"For seeing me as Charles. Honestly, I don't think I would have held onto that if nobody saw me as who I am for two years," Charles explained, a serene smile on his face. Allen smiled widely. 

"Of course I would have. You saw me as Allen, too." They smoothed out their skirt, their smile widening into a grin. "Might I say, you're looking quite sharp. Almost made me swoon when I saw you."

Charles' cheeks pinkened slightly, though he was a large contrast to the flustered mess he would have been even a few years ago. "I did some growing up," he replied nonchalantly, bravado enough to keep an air of confidence up. 

They talked for hours, catching up from over the years, walking around the city Charles had called home for half his life. He felt reacquainted enough with the city by the time that he had to go.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Allen." Charles held his hand out to theirs; confused, they placed it in his. As was his nightly routine so many years ago, he knelt down to a knee and kissed the back of their hand, eliciting a startled noise from them. 

"H-hey, you don't need to do this again–" they sputtered. Charles looked up from his position and smiled. 

"It's the ultimate sign of respect here, isn't it? I'm doing it because I want to, not because I have to," he responded, getting back up afterwards. "Either way… keep in touch. I'd love to come visit again when I can, I didn't realize how much I missed London." 

"London's a home for you, Charles. Come back anytime, okay?" Allen grinned again, taking a step back to let them part ways. 

"Thank you, Allen. Take care," Charles said, letting go of their hand. He waved as he slid into his shadow to make the journey back home, feeling light and fulfilled. 

[kostya-kolomnitinowe886c-blog]

The Names and Faces of the Florida School Shooting Victims

As gunshots echoed through the high school, a geography teacher, Scott Beigel, 35, paused to usher stragglers into his classroom before locking the door, only to be shot and killed himself as the shooter strode by.

A parent, Jennifer Zeif, credited Mr. Beigel for saving her son’s life. Short Term Loans Her son, Matthew, 14, had been the last one to slip inside the class, just ahead of Mr. Beigel. Seconds later, the room filled with a smoky haze, Matthew said, and he turned to see his teacher lying near the door, pale and bleeding. Consumer Banking | Personal Banking | U.S. Bank

Scott Beigel.

“Mr. Beigel could have passed Matthew up and gone in the classroom first,” Ms. Zeif said. “In that case, Matthew would have been the one in the doorway.”

On Thursday, as officials identified 17 people killed in the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla., some of the victims, like Mr. Beigel, were remembered for having tried to spare others in the moments of chaos that unfolded inside the school.

Aaron Feis, a popular football coach who was killed, also had tried to protect students, officials said. “He was that kind of guy,” said Jack Fris, a former football player at the school.

Friends said they were not surprised that Mr. Beigel, a much-beloved figure at a Pennsylvania summer camp that he attended and later helped to run, had put his students’ safety above his own.

“Thousands of people at Camp Starlight looked up to Scott,” said Grant Williams, 33, an emergency room nurse who worked with Mr. Beigel at the camp for several summers and was mourning long-distance with former camp counselors and campers on Thursday. “He was someone you strive to be like,” said another former Starlight counselor.

At the Florida high school, teachers and students were among the dead. There was a soccer player, a student nicknamed Guac and a trombonist in the marching band. Eight of the victims were girls and young women; nine were boys and men. They ranged from 14 years old to 49.

These are some of their stories.

Alyssa Alhadeff.Alyssa Alhadeff

Alyssa Alhadeff, 14, had played competitive soccer since she was 3 years old. Like any athlete, she had her ups and downs. But when her club, Parkland, faced off against the rival team from Coral Springs on Feb. 13, she was at the top of her game.

“Her passing was on, her shooting was on, her decision-making was on,” her mother, Lori Alhadeff, recalled. With her outgoing personality, Alyssa had a wide circle of friends at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. She placed first in a debate tournament, was taking Algebra 2 and Spanish 3, and was honing her skills as an attacking midfielder. The score at what was to be her last time on the soccer field was 1-0, Parkland.

“I was so proud of her,” her mother said. “I told her it was the best game of her life.”

Martin Duque Anguiano.Martin Duque Anguiano

Martin Duque Anguiano, a 14-year-old freshman, was “a very funny kid, outgoing and sometimes really quiet,” his brother, Miguel Duque, wrote on a GoFundMe page for funeral expenses.

“He was sweet and caring and loved by all his family,” Miguel wrote. “Most of all he was my baby brother.”

Nicholas Dworet.Credit...via ReutersNicholas Dworet

Nicholas Dworet, a promising high school swimmer, took a recruiting visit to the University of Indianapolis a few weeks ago. After a group dinner, he pulled the coach aside and said he wanted to compete there after he graduated this spring.

“He was an instant part of our family,” said Jason Hite, the university’s swim coach. Mr. Hite said Nicholas, 17, had received an academic scholarship and planned to study physical therapy.

University officials and a youth swim team in Florida said Nicholas was among those killed on Wednesday. A post on the Facebook page for TS Aquatics, the Florida club where he swam, described Nicholas as an amazing person who had been “on a major upswing in his life.”

Nicholas had improved academically and athletically since starting high school, Mr. Hite said, and his mentors in Florida “felt like the best was still to come for him.”

“We were going to continue to groom him to be a future leader for our team,” Mr. Hite said.

Mr. Hite said he sent Nicholas a text message on Wednesday afternoon after hearing about the shooting at his school. He got no response.

“The saddest thing to me is how much life this kid had and how hard he had worked to change directions and change paths,” Mr. Hite said. “He was really going in the right direction and he had really created some opportunities for himself.”

Aaron Feis.Aaron Feis

At Stoneman Douglas, Mr. Feis was known to all — an assistant football coach and a security monitor. But he too had graduated from the school, played on the football team, and knew exactly what it was like to be a student in these halls.

So he was seen as someone who looked out for students who got in trouble, those who were struggling, those without fathers at home. “They said he was like another father,” Mr. Feis’s grandfather, Raymond, recalled. “He’d go out of his way to help anybody.”

School officials said that Mr. Feis, 37, did the same on Wednesday. When there were signs of trouble, they said, he responded immediately to help. “When Aaron Feis died, when he was killed — tragically, inhumanely — he did it protecting others; you can guarantee that,” said Scott Israel, the sheriff of Broward County.

“I don’t know when Aaron’s funeral is,” Sheriff Israel said. “I don’t know how many adults are going to go, but you’ll get 2,000 kids there.”

In Parkland, Austin Lazar, a student, recalled his former coach as cheery and selfless. “He always put everybody before himself.”

Mr. Feis was married, his family said, and had a daughter, Arielle.

Jaime Guttenberg.Credit...via Associated PressJaime Guttenberg

Jaime Guttenberg, 14, danced nonstop. Sometimes she went on for hours, her aunt, Ellyn Guttenberg, said. Jaime was warm, too, always taking Ms. Guttenberg’s son, who has special needs, under her wing.

Jaime’s Facebook page, now memorialized, shows photos of her dancing, hanging out with friends, enjoying the beach and snuggling a dog.

Her father, Fred Guttenberg, posted this on Facebook: “I am broken as I write this trying to figure out how my family gets through this.”

Christopher Hixon.Credit...Susan Stocker/South Florida Sun SentinelChristopher Hixon

Christopher Hixon, 49, the school’s athletic director, was a well-known figure in Florida high school sports. One man, Jose Roman, posted on social media that Mr. Hixon was “a great coach and an awesome motivator” when he was a freshman athlete years ago.

Mr. Hixon was named athletic director of the year in 2017 by the Broward County Athletics Association.

Luke Hoyer.Luke Hoyer

Luke Hoyer, 15, spent last Christmas with his extended family in South Carolina, where he bowled, joined in a big holiday meal and swapped stories with relatives.

A cousin, Grant Cox, who was at the Christmas gathering said the family had been told by the police that Luke, a freshman at Stoneman Douglas, was among those killed on Wednesday.

Mr. Cox said Luke was a basketball player who was ambitious about the sport and admired N.B.A. stars like LeBron James and Stephen Curry.

“I know Luke loved his family,” Mr. Cox said. “I know he did. He had a huge heart.”

“He was quiet, but a very happy individual,” he said.

Cara LoughranCara Loughran

Cara Loughran, 14, loved the beach. She adored her cousins. And she was an excellent student, her family said.

“We are absolutely gutted,” by her death, her aunt, Lindsay Fontana, wrote in a Facebook post. “While your thoughts are appreciated, I beg you to DO SOMETHING. This should not have happened to our niece Cara and it cannot happen to other people’s families.”

Gina Montalto.Credit...via Associated PressGina Montalto

Gina Montalto, 14, was identified in local news accounts as a member of her school’s winter color guard team.

Andy Mroczek, who has worked as a choreographer at Stoneman Douglas, posted a tribute to Gina on Facebook. “We lost a beautiful soul tonight,” he wrote.

Joaquin Oliver.Joaquin Oliver

People often spelled Joaquin Oliver’s first name wrong, so he went with a snappy nickname: Guac.

He played basketball in the city recreational league — his jersey number was 2 — and he loved to write, filling a notebook with poetry, said Julien Decoste, a close friend of Joaquin’s and a fellow senior at Stoneman Douglas.

“Guac and I always wanted to graduate together and prove everyone wrong, that we would be successful together,” Julien said.

On Tuesday, Joaquin, 17, asked Julien to help out at his next basketball game, which was scheduled for Thursday.

“I’ll be there,” Julien texted his friend. “Good looks brotha,” Joaquin responded.

On Wednesday, as he hid inside a closet during the shooting, Julien texted Joaquin to check in.

“You good?” Julien texted. “Bro I need you to answer me please.”

Alaina Petty.Alaina Petty

Alaina Petty, 14, had helped do cleanup work in Florida after Hurricane Irma, her family said in a statement, and she was an active member of a volunteer group with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

“Her selfless service brought peace and joy to those that had lost everything during the storm,” the family’s statement said. “While we will not have the opportunity to watch her grow up and become the amazing woman we know she would become, we are keeping an eternal perspective.”

Alaina was also a member of the Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps, her family said.

Meadow Pollack.Meadow Pollack

Meadow Pollack, 18, was a senior at the high school who was planning to go to Lynn University in Boca Raton, Fla., next year, according to her father, Andrew Pollack, who said his daughter was among the dead.

“She was just unbelievable,” Mr. Pollack said. “She was a very strong-willed young girl who had everything going for her.”

Mr. Pollack described his daughter as smart, beautiful and caring. She worked at her boyfriend’s family’s motorcycle repair business.

“She just knew how to get what she wanted all the time,” Mr. Pollack said. “Nothing could ever stop her from what she wanted to achieve.”

Helena Ramsay.Helena Ramsay

Helena Ramsay, 17, was smart, kindhearted and thoughtful, her relative, Curtis Page, wrote on Facebook.

“Though she was somewhat reserved, she had a relentless motivation towards her academic studies, and her soft warm demeanor brought the best out in all who knew her,” he said, later adding: “She would have started college next year.”

Alex Schachter.Alex Schachter

Alex Schachter, 14, played the trombone in the Stoneman Douglas marching band, and was proud to have participated in winning a state championship last year. A freshman at the high school, he often played basketball with friends and was “a sweetheart of a kid,” his father, Max Schachter, said. Earlier this week, the two had discussed which classes Alex would take next semester.

Mr. Schachter said Alex had loved his mother, who died when he was five years old. His older brother also attends Stoneman Douglas and survived the shooting. Alex “just wanted to do well and make his parents happy,” his father said.

Carmen SchentrupCarmen Schentrup

Carmen Schentrup, a 2018 National Merit Scholarship semifinalist, was the smartest 16-year-old that her cousin, Matt Brandow, had ever met, he said in a Facebook post.

“I’m in a daze right now,” he wrote.

Peter WangPeter Wang.

Peter Wang, 15, a freshman, helped his cousin, Aaron Chen, adjust when he settled in Florida.

“He was always so nice and so generous,” Aaron, 16, said, adding that even though Peter was younger he had worked to be sure Aaron didn’t get bullied when he first arrived.

Peter was last seen in his gray uniform for the Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps, or J.R.O.T.C., on Wednesday. On Thursday, Aaron and another cousin said the authorities had informed the family that Peter was among those killed in the shooting.

“He was the kid in school who would be friends with anyone,” said the other cousin, Lin Chen, 24. “He didn’t care about popularity.”

[orionwhispers]

Devil Like Me (Part IX)

(A/N I know its been a while but I hope you love this next part! Sort of a “filler” but big things are coming! Love you all, thank you for being so kind and patient) 

Then

Winter had slipped away, and the breath of spring was lingering in the air. You sighed, feeling content as the warmth of the sun bathed your limbs. You spread your fingers along the metal of the car, smiling at the heat radiating off it, sending shocks along your fingertips.

"That exam was hell."

"Tell me about it." You murmured, falling back into your comfortable position on the hood of Jasmine's yellow car.  You exhaled, glad for the fresh air, a welcome change from the stuffy classroom you had spent the past two hours in. Until the stench of smoke tainted your nostrils. You immediately recoiled up, grimacing at the stale smell, and stared blankly at Jasmine, her slender fingers grasping a lit cigarette.

"What?" She questions, pulling the rim of her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.

"Since when do you smoke?"

She glances at the roll between her fingertips and shrugs, "I dunno. I just did."

You swivel your eyes and kick her lightly, "This wouldn't have anything to do with Greg would it?"

"Er - no."

"Good." You smirk, watching as she inhales, before breaking into a fit of deep coughs.

"Fuck it." She laughs still spluttering, dropping the smoke onto the floor and crushing it between the soles of her boots, "I thought I could get into it! But its so gross."

“Greg's gross." You childishly retort, giggling as she slaps you on the stomach, face pulled into a frown but her emerald eyes shining wildly.

You watch through hooded eyelids as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a stick of gum, then grabs her phone and checks the time, a photo of you both beaming widely set as the lock screen "About half an hour before we need to get back to school."

You tap your fingers in acknowledgement, feeling Jasmine's presence slink next to yours. Through the top of your sunglasses, you can see the view, the ocean in the distance, the light dancing on the top of the water. It was a relief to be out of the confinement of the classroom, the past few weeks had been hell. Studying for exams until your eyes felt sore, living on a diet of red bull and mac and cheese as you tried to cram your head with as many algebra equations as you could. Your bedroom was scattered with college leaflets and scholarship applications, left bare as you grew tired lying about how ecstatic you were about the laws of gravity.

The tops of the trees in the forest came into your line of sight, the bushy green needles protruding your thoughts. You directed your attention to a seagull perched atop of the post office, you didn’t need to think of him. But if you did - you'd think about how it had been months without a trace, not so much as a twig snapping in the distance as you drove to school. His absence had been strange, a relief at first. Finally, you could concentrate on your life without disturbance, but as the days turned into weeks you realised that you liked the distraction, the feeling of having someone watching from the sidelines. You couldn’t help wondering if maybe you had been too harsh with him on the night with James, but you shook away that thought as soon as it entered your brain, he was a monster, he didn't care about you.

“Greg's going to be 18 in a couple of weeks."

"Good for him."

Jasmine ignored your comment and turned to face you, cheekbones glossy from the heat of the sun, “His Uncle owns a cabin up in Ivywood.”

You nod, thinking of the small town a couple of hours from where you lived. You had spent a few odd summers there, it was beautiful and popular with campers.

“He says it’s right near the lake.”

“Lucky him.”

“He’s going to throw a party - a small get together - to celebrate, he wants you to come.”

“He wants me to come or you want me to come?”

Jasmine rises to her elbows, brows furrowed in distaste. “Y/N! I don’t get why you don’t like him?”

You sigh slightly, the truth was there wasn't much wrong with Greg, sure he was a bit arrogant, but he was harmless. Jasmine was far too good for him, and you found his failure to realise that irritating.

“It’s not that I don’t like him - it’s just I doubt I'd bring much to the party.”

“Well, it’s not like you’d be spending the weekend alone. There will be other people!”

“Like who?”

“Well, I'm not exactly sure on the numbers, but his Uncle says he can have it for the weekend! So it’ll probably be me, Greg obviously, Josh, Laura, Ashley, Mike and then you and Ren!”

You nod along recognising a few of Greg's best friends and fellow teammates but fall short at the last name.

“Ren?”

A smug smile grazes the corner of Jasmine's lips, “Oh yeah, I haven’t told you! Ren is Greg’s cousin, I told him all about you -”

“You told him about me?” You screech, shaking your head in disbelief, one of Jasmine's favourite hobbies was trying to set you up, usually with guys you had nothing in common with.

“Duh! You’re my best friend! It was only good things I promise!”

“Jesus Jasmine.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead and gazing out into the distance, partially hoping the ground would swallow you up.

“Cmon, Y/N.” Jasmine murmurs, crawling towards you, her voice soft. “You’ve had a really hard time..” she glances quickly at the fading bruise below your eye, now a muted grey colour. “-and I thought that maybe it would cheer you up!”

“I'm really not interested.”

“You always turn down the boys I suggest! Do you want to be single forever?”

A certain face flickers in your mind momentarily, but you blink, forcing it out of your head.

“He’s really nice. But even if you hate him, it doesn't matter! Imagine a weekend away, swimming in a lake, roasting marshmallows and just relaxing! Just think about it at least!” She holds out her hands and tilts her head, reminding you of a dog wanting to be thrown a ball.

“Fine. I’ll think about it! No promises!”

Jasmine squeals engulfing you in a hug, the scent of stale smoke and fruity perfume surrounding you both as she presses a kiss to your cheek. You settle backwards, gazing out into the distant town, rose-tinted from your glasses, memories of the past few months clambering over your brain. Who knows, maybe a weekend away could be fun?

Now

You pace around Rebekah’s spacious bedroom, bare feet padding against her luxurious fur rugs as you cradle a mug of steaming coffee. The faint lull of the radio is floating through the air and a few of her expensive candles are lit, making the air smell of sage and sea salt. The blonde is staring at you in anticipation, eyes wide like a tiger ready to strike.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” You ask, taking a sip of your syrupy brew, pretending you don't know whats coming.

She sighs dramatically, “Do I have to spell it out for you? What happened between you and my brother?”

You shrug, slouching onto her armchair and folding your legs. “Nothing, we talked - that's all.”

“Bullshit!”

You trace your finger along a drip of coffee trailing the side of the mug, watching Rebekah in the corner of your eye striking her hands on her hips, prodding you for more.

“We just.. talked. I mean you couldn’t even call it that, he’s not exactly happy to be speaking to me at the moment.”

She quirks a brow and tilts her head, watching you in a sceptical manner. You felt slightly bad lying to her, but whatever was happening between you and Klaus felt so private. Your relationship always had done. To onlookers it probably seemed beyond puzzling, you were destined to get hurt the minute you became involved, but nobody understood the connection you had - as cliche as it sounded. But now, things were different, the past two years had changed both of you, and you couldn't erase the past. You were handling him like a glass ball, determined not to shatter his fragile state.

"Oh sure. I bet you both had a lovely civil conversation, that sounds about right. "

You take a slurp of coffee, nodding along to Rebekah's story nonchalantly, but the blonde isn't taking the bait.

"Y/N! You were kidnapped! You practically vanished into thin air, Klaus went bloody mental. I haven't seen him act that psychotic since.." her voice trails off momentarily, eyes darting to yours before she falters and smooths out her dress. "Look never mind, but seriously, you can't possibly be telling me that he didn't go berserk when he found you? He used to try and stop you leaving the house to buy milk for Christ's sake. "

You snort remembering Klaus' overprotective melodramatics as you lean back against the plush furniture. You exhale loudly and push yourself up to Rebekah’s line of sight. “I'm not denying he went mad - he almost killed Damon.”

“He had it coming.” The blonde scoffed, venom in her voice. “You both must have been in quite a hurry to leave, I mean, you left behind your daylight ring. You never go anywhere without it.”

You trace the band around your finger, the weight of it comforting you. One of Klaus’ men had returned it to you this morning, you had no clue how he had acquired it but you weren't complaining. Leaning forward, you plucked at a feather sprouting from Rebekah’s pillow and rolled it between your fingertips.

“That girl... Elena.” You test the name on your tongue, watching as Rebekah's head momentarily picks up, a look of distaste on her crimson lips. “She said that Klaus wanted to hurt her and her friends.”

“Would that be so bad?” Rebekah asks, leaning forward and applying a coat of mascara to her full lashes, “The girl is a whiny bitch.”

You tut slightly, humoured at her annoyance. “What’s going on with these people? What has Klaus done?”

Rebekah places her mascara tube down, eyeing herself in her rose gold mirror as she runs her fingers over flyaway tresses sprouting from her hairline. “Katerina.”

You pause for a moment, the name is familiar but you can’t exactly place it. You squint, trying to focus as a thought pops into your mind. “Katerina? As in…“

“Crazy, psychotic Katerina who ruined Klaus’ plan and spent 500 years running from him? Yeah, Elena is her doppelgänger.”

You let out a low whistle, it feels strange being able to put a face to a name; well almost. You had once heard the brothers discussing a woman called Katherine, whispering in hushed tones about where she might be hiding. You had later managed to pry it out of Klaus - by sitting on his chest until he gave in - and he spun you a tale about a moonstone she had once run with.

“So - Klaus is extracting revenge on Elena because he can't get at Katherine?”

Rebekah snorts, “Something like that, another Petrova doppelganger…”

“Equals another shot at breaking the curse.”

“Bingo.” Rebekah finishes, turning to face you.

“So, Klaus is going to sacrifice the girl?”

The blonde meets your eye line momentarily, before smacking her lips and shrugging her shoulders. She clasps her hands together, delighted at how she has pulled herself together, “Shall we go and have some lunch? I bet its a relief to not be cooped up in that room.”

“Bekah..”

“Y/N.”

You roll onto your back, mumbling in contempt, frustrated at how much people pick and chose to tell you. It was exasperating that you were expected to stay in Mystic Falls without knowing what was going on around you.

“Look, I wish I could tell you but I hardly know myself. You know as well as I do that Klaus does whatever the bloody hell he wants, and I’m sure he doesn't want you involved and I don’t particularly feel like being in a coffin again.”

“How can he not want me involved but yet keep me here without so much as a conversation?”

Rebekah shoots you a sympathetic look, perching on the edge of her bed and offering a thin smile. You assume you aren't going to get much more out of her about Elena and the curse, and you try to act nonchalant as a particular question bubbles at the edge your lips.

“What about that other girl…” You pause, tapping slightly on the ceramic mug pretending to conjure her name as if it hadn't been at the tip of your tongue for hours. “…Caroline.”

“Oh, Caroline.” Rebekah tightens the strap of her stiletto heel, taking a cautious first step before steadying herself. “The blonde bimbo. She’s newly turned but she's harmless, more or less.” You raise a brow, egging her for more information, “She’s one of Elena’s best friends, oh so preppy and irritating, the poor little mite is terrified of me though.” She giggles and turns her head back towards you, flashing her pointed fangs and letting out a mock snarl. You laugh softly, rolling your eyes before diverting your attention back towards a loose thread on a plump pillow, mind whirring slightly, what she said shouldn't bother you, but it did.

“Whats the matter with you?” Bekah asks from the corner of the room, adjusting her belt and shooting you a quizzical look.  You wave a hand casually and take a sip, trying to mask your feelings. “It's rather hilarious to see her around me, I remember at the ball…”

She falters, spinning around as if on autopilot. Her azure eyes meeting yours, her brows furrowed in question. “The ball.” She finishes, murmuring to herself, you could almost see the gears turning in her brain as she pursed her red lips. “Klaus left so suddenly - ” Her face is sympathetic, eyes soft and kind “You saw them together didn't you?”

You exhale loudly, knocking your head back and running a palm through your hair, Rebekah’s mouth turns up slightly before spreading into a total grin. “I knew it!” Her voice is shrill and high pitched as she leaps towards you like a kitten. You stare back at her, bemused at her statement. “I knew there was a reason he left like that… Holy shit! Why didn’t you tell me?”

You push yourself off the armchair, suddenly feeling hot and overwhelmed with the situation. “I'm sorry, I was a bit busy being burnt alive by a stranger to tell you about my boyfriend dancing with another woman!”

Rebekah raises an arched brow towards you, mouth turned into a smirk. “What?” You ask feeling completely lost and bewildered at what you had gotten into.

“You said, boyfriend.”

You falter slightly, backtracking in your mind as you realise your mistake. “Yeah…  well, I meant.” You pause, exhaling loudly and flopping back into the furniture, head buried in your palms. “Shit! Fuck!”

You hear Rebekah lowly chuckle as she kneels before you, her hands are delicate as she places them over yours, folding them together in your lap. “She doesn’t mean anything to him. She's just a pawn in his game.”

“I don’t care.” You lie.

“I know. But if you did… I’d tell you that he doesn’t care about anyone, no one except you.”

You snort, “He has a funny way of showing it.”

You both still for a moment, the only noise is the trees whistling in the wind outside. Rebekah rubs comforting circles across your hands and you're so grateful for her presence. You suddenly begin feeling embarrassed, it seeps through your pores and insecurity is dripping in your mind.

“I'm being stupid.” You sniff, wiping the start of tears you had no idea were forming. “I left. It was my choice, he had a right to move on. I can't stop him.” Your voice is wavering but you remain firm.

“You still love him,” Rebekah says, its more of a statement than anything and you know its true, there's no point denying it.

“I never stopped.”

The blonde rises to her feet, mimicking your movements as you head towards the door. “Are you going to tell him?”

“No.”

“I think you should, I think you both have more to say than you realise.”

You take one step forward and then immediately move back. You purse your lips as if sucking on a lemon and point your toes as if you are going to take a leap, before pulling your leg backwards. You feel ridiculous but so many things are stopping you from moving across the hallway. The house is mostly empty, Rebekah left soon after your chat promising to catch up with you later to talk about your predicament - something you weren't looking forward to. Kol was long gone, probably off harassing an innocent civilian and you hadn't seen Klaus or Elijah since the previous day. You were used to being alone, and you found comfort in the presence of your own thoughts, the only noise being the occasional mumble from Klaus’ minions downstairs. You now had free reign of the house, but only stayed on the highest floor with the exception of Rebekah’s boudoir. You didn't feel comfortable roaming around the halls and felt safe in your own space. You couldn't risk trying the front door and even if it miraculously opened you didn't have the urge to run, there were still things to sort out here.

But here you were, stood still like a statue at the step leading to the second floor. Its large and open presence daunting but the secrets withheld behind the doors coaxing you towards them. You should feel guilty for even thinking about rummaging around someone else belongings, but you and the Mikaelsons were hardly strangers, and besides, there was only one person whose mysteries you wanted to find. You gave yourself a mini pep talk, basically telling yourself to grow some balls, as you took a feeble step forward. You smiled inwardly and curled your toes into the rug, watching as your feet carried you ahead. You slipped open the first few doors, to no avail. All were grand and extravagant, but not what you were looking for. You came to the last door, further back than the others, perched under an archway in solidarity. You scoffed at yourself, you should have chosen this one first. Even the wood was unwelcoming, a deep ebony - almost completely black, a sharp contrast to the light surrounding you.

Gingerly, you grasped the brass handle, cursing at your feebleness. You reluctantly pushed it open, listening as the door creaked in protest. Your feet prowled forward as you hit the hardwood floor and smiled to yourself at the comforting silence. You had almost expected an alarm to sound or to fall through a trap door into a lion pit, two things you wouldn't find that surprising from Klaus. You sigh as you peer around the room, a feeling anchoring in the pit of your stomach. The chamber is lavish, but not in an overwhelming way. The colours are deep and almost comforting, a mix of coppers and reds, the curtains are drawn, engulfing the room in darkness. You cautiously pace forward, taking in as much as you can manage, it smells familiar, in a way that makes your heart lurch in your chest.

The room looks entirely unlived in, the bed made and the drawers tidy and closed. The only sign that he was ever here is the lingering acrylic smell, and the art perched on the wall. You creep forward, your fingertips tracing along the edge of a mahogany dresser as you reach the edge of the large canvas.

It takes your breath away.

Once upon a time, mornings were a time for lounging in bed, covers draped over your cool form as you observed Klaus through sleepy eyes, his hands moving against his work, a small smirk on his lips when he realised he was being watched. The memory is unwelcome and you clench your fingernails into your palm to force yourself to forget, the instant pain shocking you into silence. The painting is of a forest, filled with lush trees, the bark twisted and gnarled reminding you of crashing waves against the shore. The sketch is dark and distant taking you back to a time long ago, you almost reach out and touch it, but stop yourself before your fingers disrupt the art.

Your hand brushes against an askew paintbrush sending it hurtling onto the floor, you curse lightly as you watch it roll underneath the bed. You bend down and clamber onto all fours, feeling the cool flooring under your palms. You scramble forward, heaving the great blankets grazing the ground, huffing at their excessive size in contrast to your small frame. You extend a palm, determined to find the missing apparatus before he notices its absence. You sigh as your fingers brush various specks of dust and a stray sock before you come into contact with something firm. You clasp your hands around the hard interior and tug it towards you, falling backwards into a more comfortable position. Your eyes graze over the object in question, its a kind of sketchbook bound in leather, you tease the front cover wanting desperately to prise it open but unsure of what you'll find. Its been well loved, dog-eared and creased along the dark spine. Curiosity gets the better of you and you rip apart the pages, the paper rough against your fingers.

Its a sketch of you.

You cant place the date, but your hands trace the pencil strokes, it's so similar to the first you received, capturing every essence of you, from the curve in your nose to the arch of your eyebrows. You turn the page and there's another, this one of you bundled up as you visited the beach one year, cheeks rosy and a wide smile as you stared at the open water. You flick the page, there's another, and then another. Each yellow page filled with sketches of you, all from the past, ones of you curled up reading a book, then side profile and smiling, trips from a time long passed. You feel tears trickle down your cheeks as you sniffle, a lump growing at the bottom of your throat.

You turn to the next page, and a small rectangle drops onto the floor. You unfold it slowly and realise its a map, slightly crinkled and worn with unmistakable scrawled handwriting across various regions. All sightings of you, possibilities of where you could be found. You exhale loudly as you come to terms with what you have discovered, you finger the creases in the map as you try to work out all of the words before you notice a small piece of paper sticking to the back of the journal.

You pluck it out, and your fingers trace the fine material, you know exactly what it is. Its a photo of the both of you, the only one you have. You had managed to sneakily take it of Klaus before he could protest, both of you in the reflection of a mirror. You grinning like a child at the camera, pleased with your hidden photo and Klaus in the background, attempting to control the fire roaring in the cabin you had rented for the night. You both looked so happy and utterly normal, not a care in the world as you enjoyed each others company. As soon as he heard the camera click, he pounced, demanding you tear it before you shoved it away with a laugh, distracting him and teasing him from the developing polaroid. You completely forgot about the photo that weekend, too caught up in bliss to remember where you had left it and your heart clenches as you realise he must have found it somewhere and kept it for himself.

A guttural moan escapes your lips before you can silence it, and the tears are flowing hard and fast, but before you can weep in peace the front door slams open and the house is filled with a chorus of voices. You wipe your damp face with the back of your sleeve and leap to your feet, returning everything to where you found it and leaving the room noiselessly. Avoiding all contact with people and not making a sound before you manage to lock yourself in the bathroom, running the taps to silence your deafening sniffles and looking at your weak form in the mirror. The day's events were clattering around your mind like a bowling bowl and you felt a surge of determination, you needed to see Klaus and talk to him - you needed to -

"Hey! You can't go up there!"

You turn towards the bathroom door, tuning into the voices rising from behind it. You edge forward, brows furrowed in concern before a knock jolts you from your mind.

"Y/N... It's Bonnie... I need your help."

[cherrystreet]

For @soulmatesandfate‘s 22nd year of life, a snippet (4k, i’m a joke) of the new fic. I love your sweet soul, have a beautiful day xx

It’s exactly the same as he remembered it to be.

The light yellow paint on the side of the home is peeling in all the same places, potentially a bit more weathered than his memory allowed. The shutters are still white, stark against the wood siding, and when a breeze picks up, the wind chimes ring, a sound he perks up at, suddenly recalling countless childhood memories with that very song playing in the background.

It’s a small cottage, just two bedrooms and one bathroom, the kitchen nothing to brag about, most in need of desperate updating, but it’s a place he has always felt at home, more than his actual home back in Massachusetts.

It’s been nearly ten years since the last time Louis stepped foot on his grandparents’ property on Great East Lake, but breathing in the air laced with the scent of pine trees and mulch, it feels like no time has passed at all.

He trudges up across the uneven stone walkway leading up to the main entrance, key in hand, suitcase dragging behind him. It’s the first time he’s ever taken the trip here alone - usually accompanied by a slew of siblings - and it feels strange to be able to hear the sound of the birds overhead, the water lapping at the dock several yards away, the creak of the floorboards beneath his feet once he reaches the front porch. But he came here for solidarity, to think, to decompress. He exhales loudly as he pulls open the screen door, the springs squeaking predictably, and he unlocks the front door behind it, heavy oak painted red, scuffed at the bottom.

He’s here. He’s home. The tension in his body dissipates the moment he steps across the threshold, like magic.

The perfect escape.

The inside of the house smells stale, like it hasn’t been aired out in ages, and Louis thinks that seems about right. His grandmother stopped coming here after his grandfather died three years ago, sans the occasional check in to make sure the property was still standing, and it shows. There’s a layer of dust covering most of the surfaces, the neglected plant in the corner is definitely a goner, and when he tries to turn on the kitchen light, nothing happens, the bulb apparently burned out.

Excellent.

He doesn’t do much about the dust, nor does he bother with the dead plant in the living room, but he does replace the bulbs with new ones he finds in a closet. Once the kitchen is illuminated, Louis can see the details he missed before in the muted light: his grandmother’s hand towels resting over the edge of the sink, a few faded family photos taped to the fridge, his heights over the years written in blue ink against the wall by the bathroom. Suddenly, the bit of grime and dirt doesn’t seem to feel so out of place. It feels like it always has.

He tiptoes around the property, almost as if he’s afraid to break the spell. It feels like reminiscing, even though there isn’t much here, even though the house is dead quiet sans the sound of his bare feet sticking to the tiled floor when he walks. Typically, he’s greeted at the door by his grandparents, Margaret fawning over him well into in his teenage years, making a big deal over how big the girls have gotten regardless of how much time has passed since their last visit. They’d all drop their luggage, stretching and groaning from the three hour drive, Louis’ younger siblings immediately making a mess of the living room and spare bedroom, claiming their beds, making sure their voices were heard. Everyone would ransack the refrigerator together, searching for snacks that were better than the crumbs at the bottom of the chip bag leftover in Jay’s car, and though Louis used to complain about the fuss, right now, he misses it. It’s a nice change of pace to be here alone, really, but he almost feels out of place trying to figure out what to do in the silence.

Ironic; silence is what he’s wanted for months, needed the chatter to stop to feel sane again.

It’s too early to go to bed, but he’s exhausted enough to layer the mattress in the master bedroom with the fresh sheets from the linen closet and lay down. The wood paneling on the ceiling makes the room darker than it should be at this hour, the sun not yet descending, and Louis’ eyelids feel heavy. He gives in, just for a minute, letting his eyes fall shut, jeans still on. The sound of the water rushing across the rocks just beyond the shore lulls him into steady, even breathing, and he doesn’t stir until dawn.

The first thing Louis thinks when he wakes up is that it’s hot. Too hot for typical late May weather in Maine. His t-shirt is stuck to the back of his neck, his throat dry no matter how many times he swallows, the fitted sheet beneath him too warm from body heat, making him squirm. He props himself up on his elbows, head pounding from the barely there sunrise peeking in through the sheer curtains. He squints to read the time on the clock on the nightstand. 5:49 AM. He groans, flopping back down onto the mattress, and kicks off his jeans, willing himself to cool off and fall back to sleep.

Louis’ eyes are closed for less than a second when a murderous sound comes from the water, an ear piercing shriek ricocheting across the lake. He nearly falls off the bed, his heart pounding in his chest.

“What the fuck is that,” he says out loud, scrambling out of bed, tripping over his suitcase on the floor at the end of the bed. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

The thing outside screams again, louder this time, and Louis grabs for his glasses before he sticks his head out the window. He’s prepared to find a fisher cat, maybe, one of the nastiest sounding mammals in New England, or maybe someone being bludgeoned with an actual pickaxe, bloody and painful. He looks around in the muted light, hazy and soft, and there on the dock in between his property and the neighbor’s, he sees the culprit.

It’s a man. A naked man.

His hair is pulled back into a bun, tendrils at the nape of his neck, his arms and chest and stomach covered with tattoos, most of which Louis can’t make out. The only one he can see clearly is a butterfly - a moth? - on his stomach. When he stretches, it makes it look like the insect is moving. And then Naked Man shrieks one more time. Louis jolts back and slams his head against the edge of the window.

“Son of a bitch,” he curses under his breath, rubbing his head, catching Naked Man run down the length of the dock before he dives into the lake, the still water breaking when he cuts through. He surfaces, yelping out, then continues on in a backstroke, swimming around as if he’s the only one on the entire Goddamn lake. And after a lap to the center and back, he hoists himself up, sluicing the water off of him, still loud, still naked.

Louis scoffs, slamming the window shut, muttering what an inconsiderate piece of shit that guy is for most likely waking up everyone within earshot, for acting like he’s king of the fucking world. He lays back down in bed, frustrated that now he’s not the slightest bit tired, the sheets somehow feeling warmer than before. The sun is brighter, his room slowly being lit up, and he needs coffee, or a cigarette, or both.

He wills himself to close his eyes, to exhale slowly, and a moment later, as if he can tell Louis is back in bed, Naked Man screams from outside again. The unmistakable sound of the water splashing closely follows.

Louis puts a pillow over his face and screams back.

The breeze is wonderful once Louis is situated outside on the back porch overlooking the water. The shared private beach for residents only is vacant, just a few lone towels laid out to dry draped over some adirondack chairs, and it feels nice just to breathe in, breathe out, let the afternoon sun wash over him as he picks at his leftover pizza from the drive up. He makes a mental note to stop at the grocery store. Three slices of pepperoni pizza certainly won’t hold him over until the end of August.

He doesn’t bother making the trip there, nor does he work on the inside of the house, still dusty and sad as ever. Instead, he spends the day doing nothing, and he welcomes the feeling that accompanies it. He’s spent the past six months moving, moving, moving as quickly as possible, never once stopping to settle and reflect. He needed to. It’s the reason he’s here. And it feels the way he needed it to. Settled.

The phone call with his mom is a short one. He gives her a ring sometime around three o’clock, just as an update, tells her that the house seems to be in somewhat decent shape considering, that the weather is nice, that it’s quiet. He leaves out his not-so-quiet morning wake up call, though, irritated all over again just thinking about it.

“Well, good, I’m glad,” she says through the phone. “How soon is too soon for us to make the trip up there?”

Louis laughs, dragging his fingers along the edge of the wooden picnic table. His skin catches on a raised piece of wood. “Give me a week to attempt to clean and get some food in the fridge and then everyone we know can stop by.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“A good one.”

Jay hums through the phone. “And you’re feeling better?”

He looks up at the sky, watching the way the clouds move. “It feels nice to be back here.”

“That’s not a yes or a no.”

“I know.”

“Louis…”

“No, I’m fine,” he argues. “Or. I will be.”

“If you need me to come up there, I will right now, just say the word and--”

“Mom.” Louis cuts her off, shaking his head, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray. “Please. I appreciate that but, like. I haven’t had the chance to be alone in months. Right now, it’s good. I’m good. The world is good.”

“I’m not too convinced.”

“That’s because you’re my mother and it’s your job to pry.”

He can’t see her but he knows she’s smiling. “No, it’s my job to be able to tell when you’re lying.”

Louis opens his mouth to say something, to counter that, but then out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone making their way toward Louis’ back porch, waving and smiling when he sees he has Louis’ attention. Louis squints, as if that’ll help, not sure who it is.

“Hey, Mom, I have to call you back. Someone’s here.”

“Oh, so much for being alone.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Love you, too.”

Louis rolls his eyes and mumbles the same words back, ending the phone call and looks at the stranger still approaching Louis’ porch. The guy waves again, nearly bouncing with every step, but Louis can’t place him for the life of him. He sits up straighter from his seat on the bench and holds his hand up over his eyes to shield the sun away.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks once they’re within earshot of each other.

He smiles and climbs up the back steps, holding his arm out to shake, gripping Louis’ hand tightly. “You’re not Margaret.”

Louis shakes briefly, then lets his grip go slack, beyond confused. “What gave me away?”

He laughs, taking a seat beside Louis. Bold. “Other than the fact that you’re not an elderly woman who calls everyone Dear, you’re not drinking peach iced tea or reading a book. The Margaret staples.”

“Wait.” He leans back, trying to get a good look at the guy beside him. “You, like, really know my grandmother.”

“I do. I mean, I’ve spent the past 28 summers of my life here, so she’s basically watched me grow up.”

Louis shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to rewind. Who are you?”

“Harry Styles,” he laughs. “It’s been a while, I know.”

“Harry Styles,” Louis repeats, drawing a blank. Then. “Holy fucking shit. Harry Styles.”

Harry laughs again. “That’s me.”

“Christ.” His face splits into a grin. “How long has it been? Ten years?”

“About that, yeah.”

“Wow. I completely forgot about you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, not like that,” Louis says, shaking his head, but Harry is smirking. A decade is a long time and Harry has changed a lot since Louis saw him last. He used to be lanky with a head full of hair that refused to quit, his voice just starting to deepen, his shoulders narrow and waist even smaller. Now, he’s. More. “I just… Ten years.”

“I know.”

“Last time I saw you was at camp, wasn’t it? Or was it here when both of our families were vacationing?”

Harry nods, smile sideways and dimple visible on his right cheek, and that Louis remembers. “It was at camp. And you were the worst camper there, by the way.”

“Um.” Louis clutches at his chest, forcing an over the top gasp. “You wound me. I was excellent. Still am, by the way.”

“All you did was sneak around! And mock the counselors! You were a Goddamn menace!”

“I was interesting.”

“You were a pain in the ass.”

He laughs, because Harry isn’t wrong. “Didn’t stop you from following me around everywhere.”

Harry looks down, but Louis catches the blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Yeah, well.” He shrugs, unashamed.

Louis tucks his foot underneath his thigh, humming, thinking about camp, thinking about the way Harry was back when they were teens. He smiles, suddenly remembering Harry’s nickname, stolen from To Kill a Mockingbird. “If I call you Scout, will you still respond?”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Forgot you used to call me that.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Harry drags his fingers through his hair, getting caught in the tangles at the bottom. “Probably, yeah, I’d respond.”

“Good,” Louis says and smiles.

They’re quiet for a moment. Louis pays attention to the sound of the water lapping at the dock. It’s the same sound that lulled him to sleep throughout his entire childhood, every summer spent on the lake until he went off to college, his life hectic and his family’s even more so, a plethora of younger siblings to tend to at home. Trips to Maine were cut short then, and now, with the breeze and the sun and the creak of the porch swing behind him, he can’t for the life of him figure out why he didn’t fight for this. He swallows, looking up at Harry, who’s already staring back. He suddenly feels guilty for letting life get in the way, of not keeping in touch. It’s scary, almost, thinking about how quickly ten years have ripped by him.

“So,” Harry says eventually, cutting the silence short. “You taking over Margaret’s house for the summer?”

He shrugs. “I guess so. It hasn’t been used in a few years--”

“Since your grandfather passed away?”

“Yeah. She hasn’t wanted to come back as often. She moved in with my aunt at her place in New Hampshire.”

Harry nods. “Understandable.”

“Right. So it’s just me for the next few months. Rest of the family is too busy to make a whole summer of it.”

“Any particular reason for coming back? You haven’t been here in forever.”

Louis scratches mindlessly at his jaw. “Yeah, not since before college. Just thought it would be nice to get away from some stuff and this felt like the best place to do that.”

“Sounds nice,” Harry replies. The concentrated look he gives makes it obvious he knows Louis is leaving something out, but he doesn’t pry.

“It is,” Louis agrees after a moment, squinting as the clouds move from their position. It’s getting hotter. “And you’ve been here every summer since my family stopped coming up here? Weird that my grandmother never mentioned that.”

“Guess I’m forgettable to everyone in your family.”

He laughs. “Seems like it.”

Harry smirks, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “My uncle Peter still owns the house right next door,” he says, pointing to the house situated across the shared beach, “and usually my family takes turns throughout the summer spending a few weeks at a time up here. It’s always been that way. Except this summer, it’s all mine.”

“Where do you live the rest of the year?”

“Still down on the Cape.”

“Oh, I’m in Springfield now. Only a few hours apart.”

“All this lost time,” Harry says dramatically, and Louis snorts. “But anyway, I spent the last year or so traveling so I thought this would be a nice change of pace to spend the entire summer here instead of just a week or two. Peter handed it off to me no problem. And here I am.”

Louis raises a brow. “Where’ve you been traveling?”

“London, Berlin, Prague, Amsterdam, Dublin,” he says, ticking the places off on his fingers, “Madrid, Bangkok, Dubai, Sydney, Maui, Anchorage… I wanted to stop in parts of South America, too, but I ran out of funds.”

“Jesus,” Louis mutters, impressed. “Is that all?”

“I wanted to explore!”

“Yeah, I’ll say. Sounds incredible. And expensive.”

Harry shrugs. “You only have one life. Might as well make the best of it.”

“Who needs savings?”

He laughs. “That’s the spirit.”

Louis looks out at the water. A boat goes by with an inner tube trailing behind it. The girl appears to be holding on for dear life, screaming bloody murder. He shakes his head. “Definitely going to be an interesting summer without my family,” he says. “All of my memories here involve a lot of shrieking and fighting.”

“I remember. Didn’t get a lot of sleep once the Tomlinsons showed up.”

“Exactly.”

Harry grins, stretching. Louis watches as his shirt rides up. “Nowadays, it’s mostly quiet. Public access to the water got moved down. Now the beach between us is just accessible to your house and mine. No one else on these docks but us.”

“Oh, nice, shared beach,” he repeats, distracted. He’s blatantly staring at his tattooed stomach. What is that? That’s when it clicks. “Wait. Shut the fuck up.”

“Huh?”

“You were the prick that woke me up this morning when you went cannonballing into the lake like a lunatic at the crack of fucking dawn?!”

“Oh my God, you could hear me?!”

“Everyone could hear you, I’m sure. And see you! Nice ass, Styles!”

Harry blushes a deep shade of red, but he’s laughing. “Okay, to be fair, I didn’t think you were watching me. Otherwise I would have tried to be a little more decent.”

“Well, I never would have known you were out there had you not been screaming like you were under torture.”

“I was just enjoying the beautiful morning! Trying to make the best of my one life!”

“So you’ve said!”

Harry’s still laughing when he stands up to leave, rolling his eyes and yelling, “I’m done taking your abuse,” after Louis screams, “I should’ve known that was you! You went streaking every Goddamn day at Camp Vernon! I had that white ass memorized.”

Louis’ less irritated about his morning wake up call now that he knows who was behind it, now finds it funny. It feels simple, this, watching Harry walk back down the stairs and go back to his own house, as if he’s just spent the afternoon with a friend he sees regularly and not someone whom he hasn’t seen in a decade. It’s promising.

Harry turns and looks over his shoulder just before he steps on the sand. “You’ll be around, right?”

“I will,” Louis replies, holding his hand over his eyes as a shield from the sun.

“Good.” He continues walking back toward his house, but he yells out loud enough to be heard, “The lake missed you.”

He laughs, bites down on his bottom lip. “Thanks, Scout.”

Louis thinks about the shitty bunk beds they used to share at camp, rusty and creaky with every shift. He thinks about the out of control dares he would beg Harry to do, which he followed through with every time without fail. He thinks about the evenings spent together on the beach here at the lake after their month-long trip in the woods, their families blending together perfectly, swapping stories, trading laughs. He thinks about all the times he sat in this exact spot with Harry, playing cards on the picnic table long after everyone else had gone to sleep. He thinks about taking off with him first thing in the morning to fish before the boats made their way around the lake, making it too choppy for any real success. He thinks about the look on Harry’s face when he crept up onto Louis’ back porch just hours ago, his smile bright and his hair even wilder than Louis remembered it to be.

He thinks about a lot of things, but for the first time in a while, he doesn’t think about what’s back at home.

Before he slides into bed later that night, the sheets cold, the fan whirring overhead, he calls Jay again, his mood significantly better since their phone call earlier in the day.

“Did you know Harry Styles still stays up here?” he asks when she picks up. “Saw him today. He’ll be here all summer.”

“No way!” she exclaims. “Wow, we haven’t seen his family in years.”

“I know.”

“How is he?”

Louis sucks in his cheeks. “Tall.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Not, like. He’s.” He scrunches up his face. “Okay, time to go.”

Jay laughs. “I wasn’t implying anything.”

“Sure.”

“I’m surprised you two didn’t keep in contact after you went to college, to be completely honest,” she says, humor still in her voice. “He was one of the good kids.”

“He was,” Louis agrees. “I’m not even sure where he went to college, actually. Or if he did at all.”

“I’m sure he did. He was always going on about biology. Loved bugs and nature.”

“How do you remember that…”

“We spent every summer with them! And he’s chatty!”

He snorts. “Point taken.”

“Always felt so fortunate that we had such great neighbors whenever we were there. We lucked out in that department. And funny that Anne and I both started sending you boys to the same camp without even discussing it.”

“Great minds think alike, I suppose.”

“I should call her. Let her know her future son-in-law is a major kiss ass.”

“Oh my God,” he groans. “Do not call her. Then she’ll know I was talking about Harry.”

“I wonder if she has the same number…”

“Mom.”

“We have some catching up to do, too, you know.”

“Goodnight.”

Jay laughs again. “Sleep well.”

Louis peers out his bedroom window, out across the beach. If he squints hard enough, he can just barely make out a light still on at Harry’s. “Honestly, how am I supposed to now.”

[lynneshobbydomain]

Love’s Sacrifice Chapter Two: Alexina and Griffon VxFemale OC

Author’s Note: And that’s what she wrote so far. I haven’t gotten to write chapter three yet. But I may just do so in the near future, so stay tuned. This is inspired by @spirit-of-the-void Ebony and Ivory. You should check it out! Links down below like always. 

Chapter Two: Alexina and Griffon

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was how much pain I was in. It felt like white needles were all over my upper torso, like a horrible sunburn at the beach. Even trying to peel myself up from the carpet made me want to scream in agony. My muscles ached, my head pounded, the world was moving too fast and everything looked as though there were two of them rather than just one. I could still smell a faint stench of sulfur on the air, blood and rotting meat. I could smell ash and fire, and I looked towards where I had set the candle out. A pool of wax in a porcelain plate greeted me and I wanted to groan. It was going to be a bitch to clean, but at least it wasn’t on the floor.

I tried to get myself up again, my arms shaking underneath my weight. My body practically screamed, as though I was ripping myself in half just trying to sit up. I remembered once how hard it was for Alexina to get up, and I wondered faintly if this was what I was going to feel for the rest of my life. Better me than you. I took a breath when I finally managed to get myself upright. It had been more of a chore than I wanted to admit. The room still spun uncomfortably and my stomach turned with the feeling. A bad rollercoaster ride, a bad car ride, it was the only way I could describe the constant movement that I was feeling, and how my stomach swished around inside of me as though it too wasn’t contained.

My vision finally stopped blurring and showing me double after a while. My eyes caught something black in the corner of my eye and when I looked I noticed that my arms were covered in a black ink like substance. The designs were just swirls and random little marks, but I could feel something pulsating through them. I couldn’t tell if this was the mark of the demon that claimed me or if something else was involved. I doubted that it was a mark, while demons did lack subtly, I don’t ever recall them marking territory. However, every demon was different, and I couldn’t just assume because of my lack of information. It would be another thing for me to research.

Regardless, the ink was troublesome. I still felt as though I was being stabbed multiple times and when I decided to take my shirt off to see if that would help the pain, I nearly screamed again as the cloth rubbed my body the wrong way. The ink didn’t look fresh, it didn’t look as though I spent hours in a tattoo parlor. Sensory issues, was that my new torment as well? Even rubbing my palm against the carpet brought me pain. I was going to have to find some way to try to keep things from touching me, and covering up was the opposite of a good idea.

I would need something that would stay still. The first thought that appeared in my head my vest coat that I sometimes wore. I could string it up enough so that it’ll persevere some modesty since it had a built in corset. It could be strung tight enough that it wouldn’t move and rub the ink in the wrong fashion. The rest I would just have to deal with, and hope that the pain was minimum. I was grateful that I had the foresight to do the ritual in my room. I could just crawl into my closet and dresser to grab what I needed and change out of my pants and underwear, with the reminder that I would have to laundry in the near future.

Once I got myself dressed, the ache and the dizziness slowly were disappearing. My body was still uncomfortable every twist and turn I made, but I had to power through. I needed to go back to the hospital and see if the demon really did follow through in his promise or if I had fucked myself over and Xina.

“So pretty boy’s awake, eh?”

I felt a tingling sensation in my arm as well as a sudden coolness that relieved the ache. I looked to see a bird over by my dresser. He was a large bodied bird, with blue and black feathers gleaming in the little daylight that could peer through the curtain. His golden eyes were watching me, studying me.

“Looks like you’re still human for now,” the bird cackled, “but what are you going to do when the time runs out, kid?”

‘You give up your humanity.’

I would no longer be human. I might have been on the right track with the demon claiming territory. The ink was probably a way for my energy to transfer to the demon, or to Alexina. Yet for some reason, the ink transformed into a bird. There was still some black ink that was swirling around on my arm, but the majority of it had left with the bird.

“Okay kid, looks like you didn’t read the terms and conditions when you applied for this, so I’ll break it down for ya.” He fluttered suddenly towards my face. I nearly fell backwards in surprise, but caught myself. “You and demon energy seem to be in a bit of a war right now. As in you’re subconsciously trying to turn it into something you can work with. I never met a human that can do that, but since when has life been boring?”

'The spell should have failed.’

My eyes narrowed at the bird, but I had a feeling that he liked to hear himself talk. All I had to do was stay silent, and see what he spelled out for me.

“A little freebie tip from one demon to another,” the bird continued, “If you’re desperate to hold on to what little humanity you have left, you better pick something that you can hold on tight to. And I’m not talking about another human. You people are fucking fickle.”

I suppose that made sense. Something to hold me steady if something goes wrong. To keep me present. I didn’t want to lay down and let the demon take me, he was looking for a fight, aching for one. Who was I to deny him that? I slowly got myself up to my feet and had to close my eyes as the world spun again. I felt my balance shift wrong and I nearly toppled back onto the floor. Fuck.

The bird cackled again, as though my suffering was a point of amusement for him. “Jesus, did I really get stuck with a fucking sissy? Oh christ.” The bird squawked. “This is just fucking unbelievable. What are you going to do? Faint on us every five seconds?”

“Be quiet.” I snapped, my eyes narrowed towards the bird. The bird stilled, and I kept my gaze steady. When he stayed quiet, I finally released my breath. “Who are you?”

“Jeez. Gotta do all the damn work.” The demon bird sighed, “Griffon. Don’t you dare forget it, pretty boy. What do I call you?”

I licked the corner of my lip, “You can call me V.”

“Fucking…do you think you’re all mysterious and all that? Is that why you’re giving me a pseudonym? For someone that’s not a witch, you certainly act like one.” Griffon cackled again, “Whatever suits your fancy, V. Whatever suits your fancy. You made a deal with a demon, not a smart move. What could be so important that you’d toss half of your life away?”

“The modest Rose puts forth a thorn, The humble sheep a threatening horn: While the Lily white shall in love delight, Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright." (1) I quoted absently as I walked to find my poetry journal. Xina had it made for my birthday a long time ago. I wrote as many poems that were mine as well as other favorites from other authors. Most of them were William Blake, considering he was what got me into poetry to begin with.

“A regular ol’ Shakespeare then.” Griffon sighed. “Whatever floats your boat, V.”

White-hot pain returned into my arm as he disappeared in black ink. I sharply inhaled and tried to slow my exhale so that the pain wouldn’t make me pass out. I couldn’t reach her like this. I was too drained already and it was just from one familiar coming back to me. I barely stumbled towards my bed before falling flat onto it and nearly screaming when the covers rubbed me wrong.

This better leave soon. This pain…I was so drained from it.

There was a noise that sounded far away. A sharp ringing that made me bolt upright and looked over towards the door. I strained my ears and yes, there it was again. I pushed myself up painfully and ignored how the markings pulled and yanked onto my skin as I hobbled my way through towards the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall. I flipped it off of the receiver and grabbed it midair, my favorite trick that made Xina roll her eyes at me sometimes.

“Vitale.” The nurse’s voice was soothing. “She’s awake and out of ICU.”

It worked. “I’ll be there soon.” I placed the receiver down. How much time had passed since I had passed out? I glanced at the clock. 6:30…it was nearing sunset now.

“Is she the Hathaway to your Shakespeare?”

I was grateful that I didn’t startle easy, but he still gave me a minor heart attack. I barely had to glance over my shoulder to see him partially out of the ink. Apparently the ink for him went through my arm and my shoulder blade. I was curious what the rest of the ink could do, but I had a feeling I didn’t want to test that theory out yet. I was barely strong enough to have Griffon come out when he wanted.

“Something like it.” I decided that it was just best to go with it.

Griffon hummed softly, “Don’t think she knows what you did, does she.”

The unasked question was what was I going to do when I saw her. She was going to comment on the ink, it wasn’t as though it was only seen by people who had powers. No, everyone was going to know that I had gotten myself marked.

“ I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart; Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.” (2) The quote came to me unbidden and it didn’t shock neither one of us.

He seemed satisfied with that answer and disappeared back into the ink. I grinned slightly. I wondered if the bird knew that I was fucking with him. Regardless, we were stuck together for the foreseeable future. While it was best to get along with one another, it didn’t mean that I couldn’t have some fun while doing so. It was a good thing that it was quite a walk from the apartment to the hospital. I had some thinking to do.

~

Hospitals were one of the places I always found unsettling. I knew that it was a place for healing and a place for help, but I also knew it was a place for lost causes. It was a place where people went and sometimes would never return. There were plenty of times I thought Xina would be the same, a new statistic in whatever horrible study they decided to do. Hospital deaths, the disease she would’ve been murdered by, so on and so forth.

As I walked through the hospital, I felt as though there was some sort of static electricity that kept me on guard. I felt the ink move and shift on my arm, as though reacting to the energy that I was feeling. I didn’t think that it was dangerous. Whatever was here was down on their luck. There was a certain room that I walked by where the energy felt tense, ready to snap. Anger and resentment.

“Nero! You’re awake?” I heard a soft girl’s voice say as I paused near the door.

“Well hell! Look at you! Give us all half of a heart-attack and you’re right as rain!” A southern voice answered.

“Fuck off, Nico.”

I didn’t bother to listen into the rest of the conversation. Whoever it was that in the room he didn’t sound up to par.

I felt the relieved feeling on my arm and Griffon’s head was close towards me. “Kid’s a quarter of a demon.”

That explained the energy. “You should go back.” I told him quietly. “Humans frighten easily.”

Griffon seemed to take that answer for what it was, and hid back into my arm, just in time for a nurse to come rounding the corner. I nodded my head politely towards her and she gave me an exhausted smile as she hurried past me to whoever needed her at the time. The woman at the front desk told me the room number, so I had to be getting close.

My heart sped up slightly at the realization that I still hadn’t come up with a proper explanation. The truth was easy, it was convincing her that this was the correct path that was hard. I finally reached her room and walked in. She looked worse for wear, as though death had touched her and then decided to leave her. Her skin still looked unhealthy and thin around her bones. I couldn’t wait to see her healthy again, with more pink and more round like she was.

"I look terrible.” She croaked, peering at me through half-lidded eyes. There was a soft smile playing at her face, chapped lips cracking uncomfortably.

I sat down on the chair that was nearby, my book of poems resting on my lap. “How are you feeling besides looks?”

“Terrible.” She answered, turning her head to follow me. Brown eyes glanced at the book on my lap and then back at me. “William Blake.” The judgement in her voice was loud.

“Nothing wrong with it.”

“You could be reading Robert Frost, William Shakespeare, hell even a new and upcoming poet.”

“And yet.” I held my book up giving her a slight smirk. “Here I am.”

She rolled her eyes, exaggerated and teasing. “So.” I raised an eyebrow, already knowing the next question that was going to come. “You went and got yourself tattooed all the way around huh?”

“Not…” I paused. It was easy to think that the truth could be told, but sitting before her now, I wondered how well she would take that. Honesty was something I valued, something she valued. Yet here I was, hesitating over it. “Not quite.”

Xina let out a slow, long breath. I felt the ink move and shift, as though threatening to come back out. I gingerly placed my hand against my arm, hoping that the message was sent. I didn’t want her to freak out when I hadn’t explained anything to her yet.

“You did something stupid.” She finally concluded, watching me. “V…what did you do?”

Made a deal to keep you safe from harm. Yet the words were clogged in my throat. I gripped the book tight in my grip and I was the one that had to slowly inhale and exhale, hoping that it would help loosen my tongue and my throat. “Self-closed, all repelling; what Demon hath form’d this abominable void. ” (3)

“Oh boy, poetry again.” Griffon appeared and I watched as Xina’s eyes narrowed. I felt my heart thump nervously in my chest. “Pretty boy here-“

“Made a deal with the devil, I know.” Xina’s voice was clipped, cold as ice. Griffon trilled nervously, ruffling his feathers. I wondered if he felt my discomfort, or if he didn’t like the way Xina sounded. She was a force to go up against when she was healthy and this hospital bed wouldn’t restrain her for long.

She forced herself to sit up, her hair falling limply around her face as she propped a pillow behind her. I would reach out to help, but I was no longer certain my touch would be welcome. “Damn it, V.”

“It was the only way-”

“-that is such bullshit-”

“-that I could be assured-“

“-there were other methods-“

“-that you will live.”

Her eyes narrowed at me dangerously. As if to show me that she was feeling better, she dragged the pillow from behind her and tossed it at me. I was grateful that the many needles that were embedding in her skin were keeping her movements limited. Griffon squawked and headed up somewhere high and away from me. I caught the pillow, and tossed it lightly back at her. She dragged it back behind her, but the look on her face promised me that she would’ve done so much more if she had the ability and strength.

“How?” She finally asked, breaking the awkward silence. “How did you…why would you…”

“Your days were counting down, they no longer had any faith.” I remembered the first night in the ICU. With how many times she had stopped breathing and how often she was coming and going through the hospital doors, there had been talks. Discussions of whether or not she should continue to be here or if she should be made comfortable for a death at home.

“So?” She gripped the covers tightly. “I would’ve beaten the odds, just like I always do.”

“Not this time.”

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, hair shielding her face, but I already knew her expression. Helpless and hopeless. “I knew that this would disappoint you.” I said after a moment of silence. “I couldn’t risk not seeing you alive. I wouldn’t take it back.”  I was surprised that Griffon had stayed silent through this exchange. Perhaps he was also wondering what type of reaction he was going to get, or perhaps he knew what kind of situation I was in, and knew that him saying anything at all would only land me in hotter water.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Exasperated, tired, Xina finally pulled her head up and looked at me. Her eyes wandered, tracing the ink and probably taking in what I was wearing. Normally she would be teasing me right about now for my choice in clothes, but I suppose this would have to do for now. She turned her attention towards Griffon. “Is he trying to watch over you and make sure you keep your end of the deal?”

Griffon cackled. “Looks like girlie thinks you need a babysitter Shakespeare.”

“After the idiotic move that he just did,” Xina deadpanned, “he needs a lot more than just a babysitter.”

“Xina.” I scooted the chair closer towards the bed and managed to grab her hand, forcing her to look at me. “Please.”

Her eyes still were cold, and I watched her shoulders slowly lose their tension. Finally she lowered her head and dragged my hand to her forehead. “You’re a fucking lunatic, V. Absolute fucking lunatic.”

“And you are my sanity.” I replied.

She choked out a laugh and she picked her head up. Tears were slipping down her cheeks and I felt my heart break and shatter at her expression. I never wanted to see her cry, and yet I couldn’t deny those tears were because of me. I squeezed her hand, trying to assure her that I was close by. I wasn’t sure if I could hug her, just because I wasn’t in too much pain now didn’t mean it wouldn’t suddenly spark if I held her close towards me. I didn’t want her to think that she was the cause of any of my pain. I didn’t want her to know how this ink affected me.

“You’ll be able to go home soon.” I assured after a moment of silence. “Nothing that happened to me changes anything.”

“Does it?” It was eerie to hear both Griffon and Xina say the same thing at the same time. It must have startled them since they both looked at each other.

“Hathaway, your boyfriend’s a piece of work.” Griffon ruffled his feathers slightly.

Xina groaned and I hide my smile as I looked between the two. For some reason, it made me happy that they were getting along. Still, I could also foresee a lot of shenanigans from the both of them. “Why that nickname of all things?” She looked at me. “Are you doing that teenage 'quote as many verses as you possibly can to freak people out'?”

It was weird how easily I forgot that. Her reminding me of it made me wonder if that’s the reason why I decided to quote poetry back at Griffon from time to time. I knew I was fucking with him, but I hadn’t remembered it was a classic of mine. It had been a long time ago. I merely smiled and she rolled her eyes, already knowing the answer. She rubbed her eyes, brushing away the tears that I longed to push away for her. She was exhausted, drained. I let her hand go. “Rest.” I told her quietly. “I’ll be here for some time.”

“You should go and get things done around the apartment before they think I died in there or something.” She told me.

“While you lie here and suffer? Grant me today, and tomorrow I’ll leave you.” I bartered instead.

“…Alright.”

(1) The Lily by William Blake

(2) Love's Secret by William Blake

(3) The Book of Urizen by William Blake

To read on AO3

To read Ebony and Ivory and support the inspiration: SpiritChilde

[coloredgayngels]

1-8, 10, 13-17, 19-29, 31-43, 45-63, 65-85, 87-147, 149.

@nonrelativistic​ said: ALL THE NUMBERS YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY SNWERED MWAHAHAHAJA

i hate u so much

Everything under the cut bc this is gonna be long and you guys are gonna know so much more about me than you probably ever wanted to.

Ask sent on August 4, 2015; Finished answering 42-150 on March 5, 2017. Bolded portion of answers 1-41 is the current answer.

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

I think it was my friend Madison idk Lexy probably

2. Are you outgoing or shy?

I’m relatively outgoing I guess, just introverted. Ambiverted, so it depends on the situation and what I’m doing

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?

School starts on Wednesday so I’m looking forward to seeing Selena, Eric, Liam, sparklebattle​, and vivid-living-color​. We got tech tomorrow, so Lexy, Allison, Brittany, and a few others

4. Are you easy to get along with?

I dunno really. Kinda? Depends on if I like you or not.

5.  If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?

Of course. They’ve said they would before. Most definitely

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

Nerdy and cute, similar to myself, preferably a girl, really nice but not afraid to speak her mind. Always ready to hit a dude. So basically I want Charlie Bradbury. This still reigns true but also Anna Kendrick or Rey 

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

Probably not. Well I sure hope so.

8. Who from the opposite another gender is on your mind?

Quite a few boys actually, a girl or two, and one other (I’m nb so there is no “opposite”, not that there is in the first place). I’m not naming names for reasons. Um, Kai, Vine, someone else

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

A bit

10.  Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

I think it was probably spoopycena​ but I don’t remember it well Kai ?? I think ???? @unlxckiest​

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

“Carl said yesterday 9:30”

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

How Far I’ll Go - Moana/Auli’i CravalhoIcarus (Born on Wings of Steel) - KansasSeven Nation Army - Melanie Martinez Voice PerformanceFreaks (ft. Savage) - Timmy TrumpetHow Far We’ve Come - Matchbox Twenty

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?

Only if they have permission first, but absolutely Heck yeah

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

I don’t know. If anything like that has happened to me, I wouldn’t know. A little bit

15. What good thing happened this summer?

Good things have happened? I suppose. I got to do VBS with a bunch of my friends, went on retreat with the greatest group of people (including said friends), and then spent nearly 12 hours with that same group on Sunday, so those were all really good. I also changed my name twice and I feel good about that. There was a lot of stuff but all in all it wasn’t really great (i dont remember lmao)

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

404 Answer Not Found

17. Do you think there is life on other planets?

I wouldn’t doubt it. space mermaids on jupiter

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

No

19. Do you like bubble baths?

Yeah. Don’t ever take them tho

20. Do you like your neighbors?

John’s cool, I don’t know the other people, the girls across the street are adorable. Heck yeah

21. What are your bad habits?

I bite my lip when scared/nervous, I scratch at my wrists a lot, I stick out my tongue when focused. I pull my hair when anxious or angry, I click my pens, I tap my fingers and bounce my leg

22. Where would you like to travel?

Anywhere really.

23. Do you have trust issues?

Define trust issues, because I’m 95-100% open to a few people but then 0-5% with other despite how close we may be.

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

Leaving the house, on a good day (school year)

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

My stomach and my chest

26. What do you do when you wake up?

When I don’t have anywhere to be, I hit snooze, sleep a few hours and then do social media rounds. On school days, I sit up right away so I don’t fall back asleep, do a quick check of emails, facebook messages, and instagram, and then get up. After five alarms, I check Q, delete other notifications, get dressed, and leave the house

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

This is a lil bit of a dangerous question, bc I’m already pale af, but I like it the way it is. Skin color is beautiful no matter what shade it is and nobody should feel the need to change it. A little darker

28. Who are you most comfortable around?

Like, talking, it’s nonrelativistic, shampoovevo, and probably insanity-universe but since they all live a bajillion miles away, I’m presence-wise most comfortable around Liam and Selena. HA @ all of those. Brittany, Allison, Ms. Taylor, Kai, Vine, Basil, KR, Riley, Dawn

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

In a way, yes, I suppose. Both will absolutely see this, so I’m a lil afraid to give a definitive answer.

30. Do you ever want to get married?

Heck yeah

31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail?

It is, thankfully, but that’s about the limit of what it can do. I cut it from mid-back to my collarbone in January, and now it’s around the top of my chest. I do regret that cut tho… It’s long again !!! It’s up right now, and I love it

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

I could go on, but I’ll stick with Brendon and Sarah Urie for now. Anna Kendrick and Daisy Ridley

33. Spell your name with your chin.

jesus christ my entire family is in here teagan did i mention i hate you Once again, my mother and grandmother are in the room fuck

jhasmnerswa (James) jascer (Jace)

34.  Do you play sports? What sports?

To quote Patrick Stump, “I don’t sport.”

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

TV. I hardly watch it anyway. Besides, it’s all on Netflix anyway.

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

All the time these last few years.  holy shit

37. What do you say during awkward silences?

Nothing if I can help it.

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

See #6 above.

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

I don’t really have favorite stores…. i go to target a lot does that count

40. What do you want to do after high school?

No idea tbh, but kinda-ish. I want to work with kids but not teach.  I’m headed to college for ECE in the fall so uh, this answer has changed a bunch

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

I believe in second chances based on initial insult. I’m pretty forgiving, but do something bad enough and I won’t let you have that second chance (or third or seventeenth in one case).

42. If you’re being extremely quiet what does it mean?

I’m probably zoned out, anxious, depressed, dissociating, thinking, or angry. Either way, don’t talk to me.

43. Do you smile at strangers?

Yes, albeit awkwardly.

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

Jesus Christ neither

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

I’m not sure actually

46. What are you paranoid about?

Being murdered, being broken up with, adulthood, financial stability, failing school, being too anxious to teach

47. Have you ever been high?

Nope

48. Have you ever been drunk?

See #47

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

I don’t think so?

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

Grey

51. Ever wished you were someone else?

Quite often

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

My body

53. Favourite makeup brand?

lol

54. Favourite store?

See #39

55. Favourite blog?

@kaikev 

56. Favourite colour?

Blue!

57. Favourite food?

Lo Mein with orange chicken

58. Last thing you ate?

Part of a vanilla frosted long john donut

59. First thing you ate this morning?

Jelly donut wholes

60. Ever won a competition? For what?

I’ve won a couple Kahoots…. (Disney, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Africa)

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?

I punched a kid in the stomach in the fourth grade and got suspended for three days

62. Been arrested? For what?

Nope, nothing

63. Ever been in love?

A few times

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

See #16

65. Are you hungry right now?

Not particularly? I might grab some leftover lo mein soon tho

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

Nah, I don’t have really any tumblr friends with the exception of Elaina

67. Facebook or Twitter?

Twitter hands down

68. Twitter or Tumblr?

Both? I go on both equally

69. Are you watching tv right now?

Yupper, watching Worst Cooks in America

70. Names of your bestfriends?

Elliot, Allison, Kai, Vine, Riley, Basil

71. Craving something? What?

Lo Mein

72. What colour are your towels?

I use a white one with blue rain drops and a yellow duck for my hair, and my other is either blue, tan, or grey depending on what’s clean

72. How many pillows do you sleep with?

*quietly counts* 12

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

Yep

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?

Oh boy, 20-ish

75. Favourite animal?

Dogs

76. What colour is your underwear?

Pale pink

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

Chocolate

78. Favourite ice cream flavour?

Strawberry

79. What colour shirt are you wearing?

Katniss Everdeen green

80. What colour pants?

Brown

81. Favourite tv show?

The 100 or Timeless

82. Favourite movie?

Captain America: Civil War, Captain America: Winter Soldier, or Moana

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

Mean Girls

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?

See #83

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

Janis Ian

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?

Crush

87. First person you talked to today?

My grandma

88. Last person you talked to today?

My grandma

89. Name a person you hate?

matt delli

90. Name a person you love?

Kai 

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

Matt Delli or like Selena

92. In a fight with someone?

Nahh

93. How many sweatpants do you have?

1

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

Six or Seven

95. Last movie you watched?

Finding Dory

96. Favourite actress?

Daisy Ridley or Anna Kendrick

97. Favourite actor?

Jensen Ackles or Bob Morley

98. Do you tan a lot?

lmao

99. Have any pets?

We have two betta fish, a frog, a leopard gecko, two cats, and a dog

100. How are you feeling?

Nothing

101. Do you type fast?

Yeah

102. Do you regret anything from your past?

y e a h

103. Can you spell well?

Yupper

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

Yes

105. Ever been to a bonfire party?

A few

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

Yeah

107. Have you ever been on a horse?

Yes. Never again.

108. What should you be doing?

An English project

109. Is something irritating you right now?

My mom’s presence

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

christ almighty yes

111. Do you have trust issues?

See #23

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

Allison

113. What was your childhood nickname?

no

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?

Yes! I’ve gone to or driven through Washington state, California, Wyoming, Colorado, Arizona, South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, Texas, Iowa, Missouri, Wisconsin, Illinois (live here), Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, Ohio, Michigan, West Virginia, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Pennsylvania, Maryland, New York, Mexico, and Haiti.

115. Do you play the Wii?

I used to

116. Are you listening to music right now?

Unfortunately no

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?

Yes!

118. Do you like Chinese food?

It’s my favorite

119. Favourite book?

Oh jeez this is a hard one. Probably Blood of Olympus or Deathly Hallows

120. Are you afraid of the dark?

Holy shit. Deathly.

121. Are you mean?

Yeah

122. Is cheating ever okay?

On a test in a boring class off a friend who may or may not be helping you? Maybe. On a person, ever? Never.

123. Can you keep white shoes clean?

Nope

124. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Kind of

125. Do you believe in true love?

No

126. Are you currently bored?

A little bit

127. What makes you happy?

Kai, reading, writing, music, Chipotle, Starbucks, The 100, Timeless, Rey

128. Would you change your name?

I already have multiple times, but right now, no, I’m content.

129. What your zodiac sign?

Cancer

130. Do you like subway?

Yeah

131. Your best friend of the opposite sex another gender likes you, what do you do?

I’m in a relationship, but we can remain friends

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

See #10

133. Favourite lyrics right now?

"I'd die for you," that's easy to sayWe have a list of people that we would takeA bullet for them, a bullet for youA bullet for everybody in this roomBut I don't seem to see many bullets coming throughSee many bullets coming throughMetaphorically, I'm the manBut literally, I don't know what I'd do"I'd live for you," and that's hard to doEven harder to say when you know it's not trueEven harder to write when you know that tonightThere were people back home who tried talking to youBut then you ignored them stillAll these questions they're for realLike "Who would you live for?","Who would you die for?"And "Would you ever kill?"

-Ride, Twenty One Pilots

134. Can you count to one million?

I could but I’m not gonna

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

I lie about taking food all the time

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

Closed and locked

137. How tall are you?

5′6

138. Curly or Straight hair?

(treating 138-139 as preferences) Curly

139. Brunette or Blonde?

Blonde

140. Summer or Winter?

Winter

141. Night or Day?

Night

142. Favourite month?

September

143. Are you a vegetarian?

Been there, done that, didn’t agree with me

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

Dark or milk

145. Tea or Coffee?

Coffee

146. Was today a good day?

Meh

147. Mars or Snickers?

Mars

148. What’s your favourite quote?

“Stay afraid. Do it anyway. What’s important is this action. You don’t have to be confident. Just do it, and eventually the confidence will follow.” -Carrie Fisher

149. Do you believe in ghosts?

Somewhat

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

“Circe,” (From my journal)

[toddmichaelrogers]

Letter to You

Time continues to march toward nothing. I pass along with it, happy to see currents ripple and shift until I find my reflection marked by tell-tale signs of fear and what some expressionists (scientist who study faces) might call “pretty gay”--but I myself learned to accept as “mostly straight, don’t mind seeing a dick though” a long while ago.

(READ MORE)

The world is falling into the sort of post apocalyptic chaos our stories have been worried & also warning us about for several ages. I’m pretty excited for the 80s again (who knew far right fear tactics, dance music, cocaine and a cold war would ever come back in style?) If you’re reading this as a printout in some sort of home-fashioned bunker, the year is 2017, the American President is a reality star billionaire who was elected by people (both good and bad) in an effort to clear out the politicians in the country’s capital. 

One dear friend of mine referred to it as “burning down the house” which is all well and good, unless of course there are people living in that house you have attempted to burn down. 

We are three weeks into an uncertain world, run by a puppet of far worse men, a puppet who is obviously, quite clinically insane. I actually worried about typing that for an instant, here, in the “land of free speech”. That’s how bad it is. The people surrounding him are open racists / enemies of the LGBTQ community, and misinformed religious fear mongers. This week airports across the country were shut down by protesters after refugees and travelers from several foreign countries were banned from entering. I saw a picture of Muslim people praying in an airport while an American crowd cheered them on and it nearly moved me to tears. (And I eat a lot of salt, so if I cry it burns and I fuckin’ feel it). I will not leave this country. So what am I to do? Should I write politicians? Call them? Does this matter at all, or has it ever? I have lists of resources on Tumblr, saved between gifs of cartoons and porn searches. What am I to do? Also what gets the best results? “NSFW” or “Boobs very humungo gifs”?

I don’t know what to do. But I am grateful for the art and politicians this horrible world is about to create.

EFFORTS the band I am in was asked to play a show. This is nice as no one has heard our music. We have declined any other opportunities to perform, but a few weeks into this political fuckquake was the right time to ask, I guess. So tomorrow we have band practice, and then we’ll be playing our first show ever, later this month. I definitely want to puke but in like, a good way. Like prom nerves. Prom puking.Like a  Prom-Puke-Posal

We’ve been recording our first album since November 2015. Back then it was just me and Zach. Then a guy named Geoffrey heard our demos and asked to play bass for us. No one else was asking, so we eventually said yes. Nearly a year later Zach and I tracked most of the album (there are maybe 5 songs still missing) and Geoffrey had sent us his bass demos for each. It was October 2016 and the album has been taking so long that I started pulling demos together for some other sort of release. I was going to call it DAMNSEL & THE EUTH GROUP and Geoffrey said he would produce it, but a few songs in it became obvious we were just making another EFFORTS album and now Zach is involved as well.

xxxxx

New future efforts stuff @thisisgeoffrey and I fucked with last night.

A video posted by Todd Michael Rogers (@d_a_m_n_s_e_l) on Jan 3, 2017 at 12:40pm PST

xxxxxx

The plan is to finish our first LP (I Bought You A Coffin) and then either license it to a record label, preferably in the UK (Plan A) or just do it the fuck ourselves (Plan B). Then when that’s all said and done we’ll have the next bit of music ready, which will be released as two EPs (2.1 Sorry Everyone Disappoints You) and EP2 which I have a name for but it’s not official or anything (2.2 Mean Songs to Hurt People). After we release the 2 EPs-- each holding 6 songs--we’ll smash them together for our second album (2.final form May The Eyes That Rise Upon You Never Know (Your True Heart). I even have album covers for all three but I ain’t showin’ em here yet. So far the first EP is missing 1 and a half songs, and the second is all in demo pieces.

A lot of these plans seem fanciful at best but it’s sort of how I always work on things, ‘shoot for the stars and hope you don’t put a bullet in your own boot’.  A lot of it came about one night when Zach and I stayed up drinking as we concocted a five year plan, should anyone ever ask us if we had one.

But it all start now, with finishing this album, making our facebook page (LINK), playing our first few shows, and releasing our first single (May You Absorb all Evil) But look, we even have a cover for it, granted to us by the artist Liam Barrett. We’ll release this baby sometime this Summer, along with a music video I have been meticulously planning for over a year.

*

I miss writing the novel. It’s been over a month since I touched it, but printing out my progress from the start of 2016 to the end was amazing.

I think the time away from it will be good, the fear, the worry, the feworry is leaving it for too long, allowing it to get lost in the current of the sea (see opening paragraph, this blog).

My plan is to look at what I’ve done (dangerous) do a quick edit job upon it (also dangerous, but hopeful/most/ly this is just a grammar bombing), and then see where the first 200 pages are at. I hope I’m doing the right thing, the bow of the ship needs to be set through some very particular territory, and even I know I’m telling a strange story in a weird way. I could smashed to bits upon the rocks of those who would never publish it.

But I miss it.

*

WHYLC is a comic book I started writing 10 years ago next month (Jesus Fucking Christ) and which I eventually self published online after taking it upon these keep-it-100 hands to illustrate. Issue 2 will take even more time, but for those of you who read it, the work shall continue. I reallllly like making comics and it was sort of the first thing I ever wanted to do writing wise. 

PS Issue 1 can always be found right here (LINK)

*

Spell Saga could destroy anyone, at any given time, if they saw the scope and horror of the project, stretching like ley lines backwards & forwards, away from my heart. I’ve spent the better half of a year working days and nights to pay for both a) my cool ideas and b) my dumb mistakes. This has resulted in many more cards being printed than initially anticipated, and most of my ‘money bucks’ being sent out as packages of said cards to patient wonderful truly unbelievable fans across the globe. 

(Meagen Crawford took dis pic)

Do you know how long it takes to package something? Or even double check and print the correct address? Let alone figure out a packaging solution after the US Postal Service gave you the WRONG information? It’s been a fucking nightmare--but a super neat problem to have. I can panic and smile, I do both all the time.

The next step of the process is sort of manifold:

First I have to finish sending packages to places like the UK, Singapore & Brazil. Then I have to wire the final amount to the manufacturer which was delayed by all the changes we made during initial production. THEN I have to finish re-designing DECK 2 (it’s just a new Photoshop HD makeover, no rules changes). THEN I have to get the packaging for deck 2 finalized (make sure everything is the right size, get UPC code etc.) THEN I have to wire the manufacturer to print this deck and ship everything out together from Hong Kong to any US coast and down to me in lil ole Tennessee.

Then I get my shit together. Spell Saga has been bruised and hidden away while the manufacturing continued. Having Decks 0, 1, and 2 printed and at my fucking door (taking up most of my living room) will give me the privilege and honor of sending everyone another deck for free (thanks for waiting) along with sending out marketing packages to game reviewers across the Earth. It will coincide with the continued but stalled development of the Spell Saga library (a web page of game resources formerly known as the wikiFAQ).

Getting the game back up to good standing is a very real priority for this lonely designer. When I have all that cooking at the right degree I can finally finish the main game by Designing DECK 3 and the Ending with Cousin Lauren. (Then I’ll have to pay for that one to get printed too. That’s 10 grand. Right there.)

PS Cousin Lauren has a page for her art now. Check it out (LINK)

In the INTERIM. The Meantime. IN the age of Meanness: I’ve been designing a new SPell Saga deck, called 1.5 The Under Sky. It’s a sort of bridge between decks 1 and 2, that also acts like a warp into deck 3 if it’s played right. The Look, Feel, Story, and emotional journey of this Deck matches the others--it’s still the story of The Last Minstrel--but while decks 1,2, and 3 were created with the emotions of a bad marriage and a young man afraid of what his life might have become, this DECK is sort of based on how it’s felt to publish the game and everything that’s happened to me in my own journey. Making things is hard. It’s so hard. It’s super terrible and impossible. But getting to the end is the whole point of a journey, and this deck celebrate that.

In The Under Sky, you play as The Last Minstrel, but you’ve sort of lost your way to The Forest, as well as your friends. It’s the idea of knowing exactly what you want, until a sort of early 20s suburban existentialism hits like a storm to blow you so off course you aren’t even sure who you are anymore, much less where you’re going. During the game you’ll explore the insides of living keeps called Castle Crashers, making friends with mirages and using a creature called the dark pixie to pull magical items out of ordinary places. There’s also a river of blood that’s spilling out from a talking disembodied head of a fallen god. It’s pretty cool.

If I’m nervous about anything it’s that the mechanics are advanced to say the least. It’s still the same old Spell Saga but there’s new ideas there too. Like, imagine five cards that are in a circle. The hero token (representing your character) can move left or right on the circle visiting each card (each representing a different place to visit) if you’ve played Spell Saga before, the idea should seem familiar, it’s the main and most basic mechanic of the game. But now, imagine each card in the circle is a stack 5 cards deep, and when you move from one stack to the next the cards in each stack are shuffled, the order they rest in dependant upon how you enter or leave the stack with your token. That’s some scary shit to try and “make a rulebook out of” but I think it’s going to work. I want every Spell Saga deck to kind of have it’s own vibe going on, each playing off the mechanics you may have learned in the previous deck.

There’s other Spell Saga news too:

If anyone is reading this Realmwalker ~ Science//Armor//Romance will be republished with typographical errors removed and a new box sometime near March. This was a game I released a year ago (Judas Iscariot Priest!) on The Gamecrafter, and then removed until i had time to fix it.

The next Realmwalker ~ The Discordant Shore is half designed and really a very exciting game. I think it should be done by June, and that one will also be on The Gamecrafter. The Reason this one took so long is half the cards are also copies of special handmade cards I’ll be sending out to people who spent dat ca$h on the Kickstarter, y’know, back in 2014 (Satan’s Red Mouth!).

Are you still here? Are you still reading this?

French Toast Gaming Co.’s next game, something I first worked on twenty years ago, and then spent the better part of a decade worrying about is about to be released this year. EPIOCH was supposed to come out last August, but many delays pushed it away. Now my good friend Weshoyot has nearly finished the art, and all the game needs is more playtesting and a rulebook before it pops up on The Gamecrafter. Here’s an art peek, and you should check out her instagram. (LINK).

That’s everything I needed to type out to stay sane. Thanks for following along all three of you. I appreciate it. There’s been other things too of course, lost jobs, another concussion, dreams where I tell my secrets to people who look disappointed. But you don’t need to know any of that. Not really. It will all come out in the artwork anyway.

OR THE patron page PODCAST, I GUESS.

-mE.