#listen the stuff was on sale because of the team movement

[additionalvelociraptors]

Me:

Hang on, that's a wolf.

(for a team called the Arizona Coyotes.)

Me:

That's not any wolf! That's fuckin' Lumpy Kiba!

Source

[sapphic-scylla]

A while ago, I used to raid sherpa back in D1 at the very end of its timeline. I don’t do it any more because, for some reason, people don’t like taking advice from a 28-y.o. transgirl, but I still like being able to help people and especially new people. So, Newbie Destiny 2 Kinderguardian, here is a short little tip list of things you should know as your starting into the game:

Don’t listen to people when they tell you what weapons you need to have. I know a lot of people are gonna overload you with “Go get Witherhoard!” or “You need to have Gjallerhorn!” First off, no, you don’t. Get them when you have time, but getting top tier weapons in the game should not be your top priority when your first starting out. Trust me. And honestly, people who rely too much on a certain overpowered weapon really aren’t as good as they say they are.

PRIMARY WEAPONS!!! I’m not kidding you. They are that important. I tried to run a raid last week with a guy who had just started and he had a Witherhoard on him already and that thing was like his security blanket. Dude did not know that he was supposed to use a primary weapon. All people told him was to get Witherhoard and he’d be fine. NO! Familiarize yourself with the primary weapons section before you do ANYTHING ELSE. And not just one of them, start learning the strengths and weaknesses of each primary, so that, not only will you know when they’re effective, you’ll also know how to counter them in the crucible. Your primary weapon should be the backbone of your loadout. And no, anything you actually have to physically pick up ammo for does not count.

Don’t enter Raids, Trials, or High Level Nightfalls until you’re leveled properly AND you have a team that can teach you with a calm, patient demeanor. I’ve had friends quit the game over the fact that endgame content in Destiny 2 can be unforgiving if you don’t know what to do. And it’s true, but given the right guidance, you will eventually have what it takes to snag an Adept weapon and start farming high level materials, but don’t put the cart before the horse. Learn the basics of movement in the class you want to learn, learn how to clear ads, learn the simple stuff first. Endgame content isn’t going anywhere.

Start with the Vanguard Ops Playlist. This node used to be known as the Strikes playlist, but it covers simple story missions that, while not too hard, give you enough of a tough time at the early levels to help you learn. Abuse this playlist. Use it to try different subclasses, weapons, armor, gear, play styles, basically anything you want to know about. It’s also a matchmaking playlist and you’re never fighting aloe so it’s a good time to start learning how to fight with a team.

Xur is your best friend. Your friendly neighborhood noodleman appears every Friday and stays until Tuesday Morning. He sits in the Winding Cove in the EDZ, the Watcher’s Grave on Nessus, or in the Hanger in the Tower. He sells exotic gear and once (or twice if you do his Cipher bounty) a week, you get an exotic you don’t already have, so picking up every yellow piece of gear he has for sale for your character as well as the weapon is worth a pick up because once you have it, you can reclaim it from your collections

Destiny 2’s fun is in its Customization. It’s nice to have favorites, but the true fun is finding hidden gems. Weapons that you don’t see people using, exotics you’ve never heard of, a piece of exotic armor that sounds interesting. The longevity that most streamers and veterans find comes from not using the exact same loadout constantly. Variety is the spice of life.

REBLOG if you find this. I want this to reach as many new Destiny 2 players as possible.

[malrie]

Billy watches Mary hold a pearl necklace to Mommy’s collarbone, parting her painted lips in thought, the reflection on the vanity mirror a pretty echoing twin. Her cheeks are flush-red, heels of apples. Billy lies on the carpet at her feet, listening as she hums a song he doesn’t recognize. This way he can pretend it’s really Mommy, and not just Mary in their dead mother’s body.

They do this sometimes, play make believe. Mary’s best at it, but Billy likes to think his Daddy’s bumbling-about impression is spot on. Mary had snuck Mrs. Bromfield’s gossamer nightgown out of her closet after powering off the cape. It had been one magic transformation after the other.

Billy is aware that it’s funny and strange. They keep it secret. Freddy doesn’t even know and he’s Freddy. Mary says he won’t understand. No one would.

“Make believe,” she reasons, “is for babies. We can’t just tell everybody.”

“Not even Freddy?” 

“Especially Freddy,” Mary warns. She’s speaking with her diary on her lap, angled away so he can’t see. “You know how he gets.”

Shortly after they had volunteered at a newly-opened soup kitchen, Captains Marvel and Marvel were slapped on the front page of Fawcett Tribune, dimpled and apron-wearing. Mary had sliced the pictures out of the newspaper, shuffling the cutouts in a curated album alongside other Marvel photo-ops. 

“It’s like Mommy and Daddy are heroes,” she had told him. “Alive again. I like that. Don’t you?”

And Billy did. Billy liked that a lot.

They don’t do things to get noticed. It’s just how it is nowadays, with the day-to-day average hero coverage. Billy’s teamed with all the big-namers, so he’s caught overseas often or on panels for more official capacities. He leans in for a picture with the mayor of Fawcett and smiles in just the manner he’s seen Daddy do in the few pictures they have of him: a little crooked, full-breadth. It’s distinct enough to Mary and him, who’ve pored over those remnants so long that it’s secondary.

In comparison, there’s less of Marilyn to document around. But despite rarely stepping foot out of state aside from immediate world crises, the lady Marvel isn’t a no-name. She’s dogeared every local grassroots movement around town and helps out regularly at the community center with the Vasquez kids. Whiz Radio covers her in their own Marvel corner, and Billy makes sure he’s the one behind the camera when it lifts.

Freddy—because he’s Freddy—catches on eventually. For once, they’re lunching on campus, a day of obligation when it comes to the trio’s “How many times can we skip till we’re in the red?” calculations. Squashed between a dozen other middle schoolers mulling over their peas and carrots, Freddy goes, “What you’re doing with the pictures—sure that’s healthy?”

“You would put it that way,” Mary says, sounding defensive already, “like it’s simply a horrible thing to do.”

“Don’t forget you’re not the only orphan here. And you can do what you like to remember your family, but you don’t think this’ll just hurt Billy in the long run?”

As they bicker in the very veiled, grown-up parental charade that they do, Billy pulls out the morning paper and lays it gently between their lunch trays. It’s not front page stuff, just a page three feature about charity work. This was from a few days ago, after collecting the donations Mary built up at her annual Watchtower bake sale, and it’s got a picture of the Marvels and a few Leaguers gum-grinning behind a grand big check.

“It’s nothing bad, Freddy,” Billy consoles his best friend, whose constant worry for them could be weighed in truckloads. “I know it’s not real. Pretending doesn’t make it real.”

“Then why?”

He ponders over this, trying to put it to words. “It’s like they live through us now,” he starts. “When we save or rescue or be a hero, they are, too. They always wanted to do some good in the world. This is how we can help them do it even when they’re gone.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Freddy flicks a pea at him. Above Mary’s reprimand, he elaborates, sounding years beyond his age, “You don’t have to be them to keep them with you. Look at me. Look at me when I’m… caped. I look like I’ve lost anything, when I’m not him? Well, I haven’t. Not a thing.”

Mary grips Billy’s hand tightly over the surface of the table. Freddy always knows what to say to placate her and Billy alike. It’s why Darla and the boys follow him like easy-to-please ducklings, and certainly why Billy and Mary are who they are still. The rush of affection for his family that overcomes him is old and familiar. He thinks he’d like a photo of them together in uniform next time they’re out, where his parents might join them. And next time he won’t need to smile like C.C. Batson, or even Captain Marvel. Billy’s enough. Everyone that he loves lets him know that much.

[ariesauthor]

Starstruck

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

warnings: a brief mention of violence and torture (typical unsub stuff), Just flirting....for now??

word count: 1.9K

a/n: This is my first fanfic so I’m a little nervous, so sorry if it’s kinda rough around the edges. If anyone asks then I’ll make a continuation. Also, I’m sorry if there’s an error in grammar or in the description of the burlesque scene, I’m not an expert in either.

summary: The stars of the nightlife in NYC are being targeted and during the BAU’s investigation Spencer meets a flirty burlesque dancer 

Dr. Reid didn’t think this case was going to be any different from the usual ones the BAU receives but he would later find out how wrong he was. On the jet ride over to New York City, the team goes over the basics of the case.

“So this unsub has been torturing, sexually assaulting, and disfiguring popular women of the nightlife scene”, Penelope briefs on the computer screen. “The first victim was a popular stripper in a high-class strip club. And the second was the #1 hostess in an exclusive hostess bar.“

“All their hair has been cut off and their clothes have been taken off as well”, Morgan observes from the crime scene photos. Emily goes on to add, “he’s definitely angry at them, he goes out of his way to humiliate them”.

“These women are most likely unattainable to this man, he probably has experienced rejection in the past and when these women they reject him, he takes them by force”, Rossi concludes. The team nods in agreement.

Derek turns to the laptop, “Babygirl, is there anything else that these women have in common besides similarity in careers?”

“Hmm, there’s quite a lot of stuff, these women shopped at the same online retailers, frequented the same establishments, it will take some time to find anything noteworthy but when I do I’ll let you know in a flash, good luck lovelies!” And with that Garcia ends the video call.

When the team landed in New York and set up, they split up into units. Hotch and Rossi went to the coroner’s office to visit the bodies of all three victims. JJ and Emily stayed in the station to question the family of the victims. That left Morgan and Reid to visit the establishments each victim worked at.

As Morgan and Reid walk up to the SUV they call from Garcia, “Please tell me you found something sweetheart because we are getting squat.”

“Ok sugar, so since you guys said this guy would need some serious cash just to lay eyes on the victims, I looked at any other establishments that have the same sale rate and popularity as these places and found a burlesque club not far from you. And to top it all off I looked into that club to see if there was any connection with the victims and found a post on social media that one of the victims posted when they attended a show together .”

Morgan and Reid shared a look before asking, “What show were they attending?”

“It looks like it was a show that’s held for the most popular girl at the club. Her name is Y/N L/N and she’s there tonight for a show, sending you the address now.”

“Thanks Mama,” Derek says before turning to Reid, “Let’s go”.

~At the Club~

The pair flashed their badges at the entrance as the security guard let them pass and walk down the narrow steps. Upon arrival into the main area, Morgan walked to the bar on the right towards the bartender.

“Is the manager here? We would like to talk to Y/N L/N.”

The other bartender in the back laughed, “Get in line buddy.”

Morgan showed his badge, “I’m Special Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid. It’s important.” The guy in the back widens his eyes before turning back to a customer.

The first bartender responded,” Yeah I can get the manager for you but it will take some time before you can talk to Y/N, she’s about to perform soon. Wait here.” He puts down the towel he was holding and disappears backstage. Just when he does, the flashing lights shut off and a sole spotlight hits the center of the stage. Suddenly, trumpets sound from the music and the curtains pull back to reveal the most gorgeous girl Spencer has ever seen.

A kiss on the hand May be quite continental But diamonds are a girl's best friend

She was wearing a lingerie set that dripped in rhinestone fringe coupled with jewelry and heels that sparkled in the spotlight. Around her lower back and held up by her arms was a fluffy white shawl that was flung behind her as she began dancing. Her deep red lips lipsynced the lyrics and revealed a dazzling smile that stopped the heart of anyone she sent it to.

“Uhh, Morgan do you think that’s Y/N?”, Spencer’s voice raises an octave, looking at him in shock before returning to look at the stunning girl dancing across the stage as cheers erupt from the crowd. Many men raised from their seats and outstretched their hands, some of which had the honor of being reciprocated by Y/N’s delicate ones.

“I think so Big Boy” Morgan replies with a slight smile, the two never breaking their gaze away from her.

But square-cut or pear-shaped These rocks don't lose their shape Diamonds are a girl's best friend

Y/N began to step down the side stairs of the stage and walk amongst the audience. She would trace a hand across someone’s shoulder or cheek. Playfully blowing a kiss or sitting on someone’s lap. Slowly she moved across the room, getting closer and closer to the bar Spencer and Derek were located. Just as she was dancing near the closest table to the bar, the two heard a voice to their right.

“Are you guys the feds?” The two then turn around to face the manager.

“Yes, that’s us.”

“Follow me then.” As the agents follow the manager to the side entrance for backstage, Spencer caught one last glimpse of the beautiful girl five feet away, he could have sworn they made eye contact as she sent him a wink. Spencer unknowingly gulped.

. . . . .

Y/N was exhausted as the curtains closed. Just as she was about to reach for a water bottle extended to her from the stagehand, the manager walked up to her followed by two men.

Now, her job is to literally dance in front of a crowd in sexy clothing.  But having a handsome buff man and a pretty boy approach her while she’s in lingerie and sweaty from a performance made her just a little self-conscious. You recognized the one on the right when you made eye contact with him earlier, he was even cuter up close.

The manager gestures to the men behind her, “Y/N, these men would like to talk to you”.

The two show their FBI badge but the one on the right accidentally holds his upside down, causing you to giggle. He looks startled and confused before the buff man on the right speaks, “Nice to meet you, I’m Special Agent Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Spencer Reid” the one now known as Dr. Reid forms a shy smile as he raises his hand, “we’re part of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“We’re here about the recent murders of Amanda Carlisle and Kayla Mcgann, did you know them?”

Your face softened, “Yes I did, I was really sad to hear the news, it’s horrible what happened to them.”

Morgan sent you a sympathetic look. “Would you mind if we asked a couple of questions?” You looked up at him. “No not at all, over here please.” You led them to your vanity and sat down.

“May I ask how you know them?” Morgan started. “We became friends a year ago at a New Years' Eve Party. Kayla approached me when she recognized me from a billboard. Then she introduced me to Amanda.”

The two listened before continuing. “Did they attend a show of yours a couple weeks back?” You nod and explained how it was the first time you had center stage so Amanda and Kayla went to go cheer you on.

The two agents asked some more questions about Kayla and Amanda, like where do they go, who do they know, but they found nothing significant or something they didn’t already know. During this time, it was mostly Agent Morgan who asked you questions, but that didn’t stop you from staring at Dr. Reid, which was probably the reason why he was so speechless.

Morgan clears his throat to grab Reid’s attention before turning back to face you, “Did you know of anyone who would want to harm Amanda and Kayla, someone they rejected?”

“Unfortunately, there’s many like that. That kind of stuff happens pretty often in our line of work. All types of guys approached them asking for a date or one-nightstands. Many of which get turned down. It’s why those two hired personal bodyguards after they started getting more attention.” You noticed the two agents exchange a look before Dr. Reid turns to face you.

“Did they have the same bodyguard?”, he licks his lips in concentration, not noticing how much the action affected you.  “U-um no they didn’t, but they did go through the same hiring service. I have a card from them, Kayla gave it to me in case I wanted to try it out myself.” You turn around and bend down to look in a drawer in your vanity, knowing damn well that your clothes didn’t leave much for the imagination. As you pulled out the card you turned around to see a very red Dr. Reid. As soon as you caught him staring, he averted his eyes. “Where’s Agent Morgan?” you ask.

“He ah-um, stepped aside to answer a call.” You smiled mischievously and said “uh-huh” as you casually walk up to the agent. You extended the card between your two fingers to which he gently received. He mumbles a quiet “thank you”.

You notice him nervously shift his weight to the other foot, gaining more confidence, you decide to lean a little closer to him. You watch as his adam apple bobbed when he swallowed at the movement. To break the silence he asks, “so, you don’t have a bodyguard?”

You stand up straight and shrug, “didn’t feel the need to.”

He finally looks back at you, his eyes squint slightly as he licks his lips again in concentration. He looks you up and down, unintentionally checking you out. “I assume you’re just as popular as Amanda and Kayla were, if not more.”

You blushed at the compliment and roaming eyes, “I regularly take self-defense classes, I feel safer by myself than being around a man.” He nodded in understanding.

“But if it was you then that’s a whole different story,” you mused as you leaned towards him again, this time slightly touching his shoulder. He glanced at his shoulder then met your eyes, to which you instinctively smile. He could see why you were popular, your charm and allure was unexplainable and interacting with you felt effortless yet exciting.

Just then his colleague yells back “that was Hotch, we gotta head back and deliver the profile”.  

The younger agent nods and turns back to you, handing you a card, “thank you for your time, if you remember anything else or have any questions please call us.”

“I’ll be sure to, wouldn’t want to pass up meeting you again.” You remove your hand. “Feel free to come again. I’ll give you a free show.” before sending him a wink.  

Stunned and embarrassed, all Reid can do is nod before turning to around to leave. He bumps into someone in the process, apologizing frantically as he catches up to Morgan.

You watch as Derek pats Spencer’s back.  A presence comes up behind you as you hear, “I didn’t know that was your type.” Another burlesque dancer, Nancy, stands beside you to follow your gaze. “That hot beefcake was standing right there and you chose to flirt with the cute nerdy boy. No wonder you turn down all those hot CEOs, you’re into cute FBI agents.”

“Specifically, THAT cute FBI agent” you laugh. Nancy laughs with you as you two walk to get ready for the next performance.

[tarithenurse]

Nightingale - 33

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Fluff and pining! All the fluff! Oh and some smutty hints. Mostly fluff though with a bit of doubt. (Proof reading? What’s that?) A/N: As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 33

The muted sweep of the window sliding open is enough to wake Kakashi, his hands imperceptibly reaching for the kunaï tucked in between mattress and wall. Cotton. Right away, the scent relaxes him.

“Mmm?” he offers as a lazy greeting.

“You didn’t come back,” Uguïsu explains as she pulls the window closed.

Shoes are abandoned by the wall and the white-haired jōnin listens to the soundless steps nearing the bed which then dips under her weight. She waits for him to make room before she lies down, curled on her side and hand resting on his bicep. It sends shiver through his body that he neither can nor wants to suppress.

“So you decided to come here.” Kakashi likes that. “Maybe I should get you a blanket and pillow.”

Even in the darkness of the night, it’s clear she’s grinning. “I can just steal yours.”

“Prft! No way!”

“Hrm. Share then?”

A surge of nerves shoots out in every direction from his chest at the suggestion. He wants to cheer, hoot with joy and the blue-haired woman...instead he wordlessly lifts the cover and lets her scoot closer so close that her knees push against his thighs and her chest brushes against his arm when he breathes – something he suddenly has to struggle to do. I could stay like this forever. It feels like heaven as the silence envelops them.

“’Kashi?” she eventually ventures, “when...how will I know if I passed?”

Fuck! Right! “You could open the drawer in my nightstand,” he suggests.

Rolling over (and stealing most of the blanket) she does as prompted, and Kakashi knows exactly when her fingers wrap around the headband because a tiny gasp escapes her lips and he’s about to congratulate her when every thought is blown away. She’s holding him tight, head burrowed into the crook of his neck, left arm and leg thrown across to somehow pull them closer than ever. Sure, the hand clutching the headband is mushed between their torsos.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!” Uguïsu giggles between kisses along his jaw, cheek and neck.

Despite a dizzying breathlessness, the jōnin manages to answer something relatively coherent.

She’s so warm. Soft. Moulding against his body that’s craving more and responds by embracing her as best as he can. It feels good. Too good. And the growing tightness in his abdomen doesn’t lessen when she tugs at his shirt to create access to slip a hand onto his skin. She can...my heart...

“Thank you, Kakashi,” his nightingale hums in contentment.

His heart is thumping wildly, mostly leading the blood downwards despite the attempt to keep his thoughts clean. “Always. Whatever makes you happy.”

Uguïsu’s thigh is slung across his legs just below the crotch. One small movement and she would be able to feel his predicament...but she stays quiet and her breathing eases into a deep lull. She’s asleep? It seems like it, however there’s no reason to risk waking the girl by moving to check. Or moving to adjust or lessen any discomfort Kakashi temporarily is experiencing.

...

If the trio in Team 7 were envious, only one of them openly shows it.

“...not even like it’s a special headband...” Naruto mutters despite the bump growing on his head, “ev’ry genin has it....’s not like it’s hard...”

Thankfully, Sakura is more than excited enough to compensate and it takes their sensei a while before he can wrestle the attention back and set out with them on their latest mission: an anonymous citizen needs help to repair the roof of a derelict old house.

It’s not that bad. Pitching in himself, Kakashi is surveying the uneven and broken shingles as he tosses what has to be replaced over the edge. The woodwork beneath is in surprisingly good shape and it isn’t long before Sakura exits with the good news that only one room has suffered a leak. She doesn’t on anything else she must have seen in there, and why should she? Any evidence of the previous inhabitants’ identities is gone, erased by the fading of memories or carefully removed by the only living relative.

There had been no sadness the day a much younger Kakashi had decided to find another home. Why didn’t I just sell it back then? Even as a teenager, he had had no dream of living a life where anything but a simple apartment wouldn’t suffice. On the other hand, he had had no need for the money he might have earned on a sale and despite not wanting the memories tied to the place to haunt him, something must have told him that getting rid of the house wouldn’t free him.

Now, as he stands on top of his old life, the unspoken dream is already beginning to seep into the old wood and settle deeper than the dust on shelves and floor. Yes, he smiles secretly, this feels right.

Naruto’s voice cuts through the growing reverie sharply. “Who would even want to live in this old dump?��

“Moron!” The boy has to dodge a sweep of a half-rotted trim. “No one when it’s like this and that’s why we’ve started fixing it.”

There’s a moment where the glare bounces off of Sakura with no visible effect.

“Well...I’m not doing all of the repairs...” Naruto mutters.

Sasuke huffs a laugh from down below, and the sensei and captain of the team thinks he can hear the underlying meaning clearly (something to the effect of: “of course you won’t because we’re the ones doing the work”) and he scrambles to defuse the bickering.

...

They’re right though. Lots of hammering and a few splinters later, there’s still a long way to go and even when the place is ready (eventually) there’s another matter waiting. How do you ask someone? Of course, Uguïsu won’t strictly need to know the history of the house or it’s available to her. It’s not technically lying to omit certain information. Who am I kidding?!

Fingers cart through the white hair, the nails scratching gently along his scalp. “What’s bothering you, ‘Kashi?”

Hanging out on the floor in her little living room, the tentative couple have each been reading their own book, but she must have noticed the lack of page-turning on his side of the carpet.

“Just...something Naruto said today,” he tries, gaining her full attention.

Dark eyes peer at him, a single brow arching in the way he knows means she’s about to figure things out quickly. “...about the exam and stuff?”

That’s a good excuse. “Among other things, yeah.” Closing his favourite book, the jōnin slowly moves to rest his head in her lap. “They got a way to go still...but they’re improving quickly, are dedicated, work hard...”

“You’re considering recommending them for the exam already?”

“Well...” Am I? “I’ve gotta consider it. All captains do...”

However, he doesn’t have to think about it right this moment. Not when Uguïsu is playing with his hair and he’s enveloped in the best, cottony scent. And the same goes for the other thing. Whatever it was. Some...not yet. Halfdozing, he smiles at a muted sputter of giggle and realizes how far she’s gotten in Icha Icha Paradise.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Catastrophic Failure”

Summary: Y/N does everything she can to help Elliot one last time.

Warnings: Angst, Discussion of DID and Mental Health

A/N: * = dialogue taken directly and/or paraphrased from the show; ** = researched tech stuff (not my thoughts/ideas)

Word Count: 6767

Decryption_Error: All Chapters

I blinked away a drugged sleep as my phone blared. I thought I had silenced it, but then again, my overreliance on my anxiety meds was making everything muddled.

Elliot 🖤

I had to be dreaming.

I hadn’t heard from Elliot since he walked away from me on Coney Island a week ago.

I had to be dreaming, but I could still hear the warble of my ringtone and I could feel the vibrations of my phone as I stared at his name.

I touched my thumb stupidly to the green icon and slid it to answer, expecting no one to be on the other end.

“Hello?”

“I need you to come out to your parents’ house. There’s not a lot … not a lot of time. Please.”  

“Elliot?” I questioned, my pulse quickening at the edge of desperation in his voice. “Please tell me this is really you.”

A harsh, shuffling sound made me pull the phone slightly away from my ear, then the line went dead.

I lowered my phone to stare at the screen as it went black, but the persistent hammering of my heart reminded me that really did happen and I needed to move … fast.

I fumbled my way through the dark and into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face to clear my head. I brushed my teeth as I walked into the closet and pulled on my still-sandy jeans and jostled into my also-still-sandy sweater from the night not-Elliot walked away from me. I yanked my sweater down as it caught on my toothbrush before I rushed back into the bathroom to rinse.

I stumbled as I slid into my sneakers, but when a small pile of sand fell out of the tread, I stared at it, remembering the story Elliot told me about a day he and his father played hooky and went to the beach. When he got home, his sneakers were full of sand and he dumped them on his bedroom floor. His mother was furious, but his father wasn’t. Elliot had said he often thought about that moment, about how difficult it would be to take enough sand away from that beach, shoe-full by shoe-full to make a difference in the landscape.*

“Is that what you really want, El?” I asked as his fingers ran through my hair while I laid with my head in his lap, looking up and watching his chin move as he spoke. “To change the world?”

“I don’t know. It takes so long to make any real change. What if I don’t have the stomach for it?”*

“Well,” I said slowly, smiling as I reached up to angle his face so he looked down at me, his own mouth mirroring my soft smile as he waited for me to continue. “It didn’t take you all that long to change my life.”

“Has it been a good change?” he asked as his smile grew to a grin.

“The best change,” I answered as my happy grin paralleled Elliot’s, our exchange of mirrored smiles offering the perfect evidence for how we had changed each other’s lives for the best.

I gasped for a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding as that memory assaulted me.  

“Fuck!” I yelled into the void of my closet as I pushed away the sweetness of the memory and forced my mind back to the agony of the present.

I adjusted my shoes, and tore out of the bedroom, only slowing my pace as I passed the guest room. I offered a prayer to anything listening that my parents stayed fast asleep.

After Elliot was fired and I didn’t answer my dad’s phone calls, he came to my apartment. I had managed to keep myself together for the rest of the work week, but the second I saw my dad, the dam inside of me broke.

I clung to him as he cradled me on the sofa, reduced to an inconsolable child as the heartbreak of losing Elliot flooded through me.

Mom and Dad cancelled their Memorial Day plans, even though it was going to be the first once since they had officially moved into the Greenwich house. Kath decided to host Josh’s family at their place, and Erin, Ryan, and Charlie decided to fly down to Palm Beach for the weekend. Each of my siblings did their best to cajole me into joining them, but they all knew I wasn’t going to.

Mom then made a very loud proclamation to anyone who would listen that she and my dad would stay with me in the city until I was “feeling more like myself.”

I didn’t have the strength to fight her, and although I was hesitant to admit it, having my parents to take care of me as my world fell apart helped.

After grabbing my bag, I shut the door to my apartment as quietly as I could, and as I waited for the elevator, I glanced at my phone to check the time.

2:07 am

I tried not to think that exactly one year ago, Elliot was asleep in my bed after we had a picnic and had gotten high, both of us basking in feelings that came at the beginning of a relationship, both of our hearts identical twins of hope for the possibility of an “us.”

I fumbled with the door to my SUV and settled in, slapping my cheeks to shake off the remnants of my meds. As a final thought, I checked my call history just to make sure everything still had really happened.

Elliot 🖤 1:54 am

I put the car in reverse, and quickly made my way out of the city.

* * * * *

I was rigid with fear as I finally pulled into my parents’ house, my stomach in knots and my head aching from clenching my jaw for the entire drive.

Considering Elliot’s phone call, I was unsurprised that the front door was unlocked.

Opening it slowly, I stepped into the pitch-black entryway, my eyes scanning the dark for any movement. I moved to check the alarm system, but it had already been disabled.

As my eyes adjusted, I looked to the staircase but changed my mind and made my way to my dad’s office—the office where Elliot and I had stopped the hackers over the Fourth of July weekend.

There was a light coming from Dad’s office, the familiar muted wash of a computer screen’s glow.

I pushed into the room with caution, my gaze settling on Elliot as he was seated at my dad’s computer, his fingers working at a pace that would’ve been deemed brutal for anyone else.

“Elliot?”

He never took his eyes off the screen, nor did his fingers falter as he replied, “No.”

“Why would you call me?”

“I didn’t,” not-Elliot said as he finally stopped typing and raised his eyes to mine, his cheek bright red with what would surely be a nasty bruise in a few hours.

“You hurt him?”

“He was getting in our way.”

“Our? As in you and Mr. Robot? So you’re a team now?”

Anger spurned my body into motion. I rushed to the desk and kicked the chair so it rolled him away from the computer.

He didn’t fight me.

I glared at him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. I turned away to look at the monitor, my eyes narrowing in concentration as I worked to figure out what he was running.

My mouth dropped open when I realized I was looking at Dream Market, one of the largest data dump markets on the Dark Web. It had only been running for a little over a year and was only accessible with anonymity software, but it was the place to go if you wanted data … or drugs. **

He had used Tor to access Dream Market. Tor was an acronym derived from The Onion Project, which used onion routers to effectively encrypt user traffic that passed IP addresses through a complex of Tor nodes. Those “onion layers” protected any user's anonymity by providing access to similarly protected websites, thus a virtual, back-alley marketplace was born. **

“You dumped Precision Machining’s data. You—you put it up for sale.”

“Only the board members’ data.”

“Why? Why?!” I asked as I bent over the keyboard, too far out of my skillset to even know how to start retrieving the stolen information.

“This can all go away, sweetheart.”

I froze at the switched intonation which meant I was now dealing with Mr. Robot. I stepped back and looked over at him, Elliot’s entire demeanor changed from focused on the hack and disconnected in his interaction with me, to disconnected from the hack and very, very focused on me.

“This can all go away if I leave Elliot alone.”

“Elliot does like a girl with a brain,” Mr. Robot said as he put his hands on top of his head and leaned back in my dad’s chair.

“What happened to … the other one? The hacker?”

Mr. Robot laughed as he leaned farther back in the chair, confident in his knowledge that he had total control of this situation.

“I’m the only one Elliot really needs. Problem was he lost sight of our plan, thanks to you.”

“Plan?”

Mr. Robot leaned forward, shifting his feet before he stood up, slowly. His movements were more relaxed, more confident than Elliot’s; the way he walked with purpose and the fact that he never dropped his gaze made me understand why he was Elliot’s protector.  

“Elliot needs to keep busy. It’s good for him. And the shit you had him doing at his cushy Wall Street job wasn’t cutting it. Not to mention all the lovey-dovey crap—'let’s talk about our feeelings’ all the fucking time. Jesus Christ.

“It was only a matter of time before he needed a … a challenge. You see, sometimes he dreams about saving the world. Saving everyone from an invisible hand, one that brands them with an employee badge. One that forces them to work for people like your old man. People who control us every day without us knowing it. Except that Elliot does know it because I never let him forget it.”*

I listened, unsurprised by Mr. Robot’s words. I knew Elliot thought about those things. I knew he struggled to reconcile being normal with being complacent. But I also knew now that Elliot was angry about something that had nothing to do with the injustices of the world, something that Mr. Robot was working his ass off to keep from him.

“That’s not what this is about and you know it. This,” I said gesturing to the screen, “is an illusion. It’s something you’ve come up with to stop him from getting too close to the secret you’ve worked so hard to protect. Aren’t you tired, Mr. Robot? Aren’t you tired of hurting him for the sake of protecting him? Of keeping Elliot from a truth he needs to know in order to move on—”

“There is no moving on because there is no hard reset that can be done if Elliot remembers!” Mr. Robot growled as he stepped toward me, his face inches from mine.

I stumbled back, my hip bumping against the desk.

“If he remembers, if he learns the truth, it will break him.”

I will never forget the way Mr. Robot’s eyes, the same yet not at all the same as Elliot’s, flashed with pain as I said, “Maybe you’re too scared he won’t need you anymore if he learns the truth. Maybe it’s you that can’t handle the possibility of it healing him instead of breaking him.”

“You know nothing about Elliot, nothing about us! You were just our playground, little girl,” Mr. Robot spat as he grabbed my arm and twisted me toward the computer screen. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pushed my head close to the monitor.

“Everything a hacker would need to take down the company your father built is right there, waiting for the highest bidder,” he said with a final shove of my head before he let me go.  

I held myself up with shaky arms, tears stinging at my eyes as I realized this was his ultimatum. There was no reasoning with Mr. Robot because he only had one source of hunger; he desired nothing other than to protect Elliot, even if that meant sacrificing the thing that had made him the happiest he had been in his adult life.

I finally accepted that I didn’t have the strength to fight Mr. Robot. If he was already able to use the only other part of Elliot I got close to against me, it was two against one. It would tear Elliot apart to keep him—if I fought for him, I would be the one breaking him.

“If—” my voice faltered, choked by the sob of despair that had built within me as I realized what I had to do.

“If I swear to—to delete Elliot from my life, will you give him back control? Will you take back the hack?”

Before Mr. Robot could answer, the sound of sirens infiltrated my dad’s office. My head whipped toward the door and I could see lights flashing through the house as the police pulled into the driveway.

“You called the police?” Mr. Robot asked, panic evident in his normally confident tone.

He moved to the office door and peered out into the house, the sound of footsteps pounding across the porch causing his mouth to drop open as he drew in deeper breaths.

I shook my head.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well someone sure as fuck did!”

“Maybe my dad heard me leave. Maybe—”

“Maybe I don’t give a fuck! Now listen to me,” Mr. Robot said, his teeth bared as he walked back to stand in front of me. “If I go to jail, Elliot goes to jail. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Get him out of this and I’ll make sure the hack is reversed.”

“THIS IS THE POLICE! Y/N Y/L/N, IF YOU ARE ABLE, COME TO THE DOOR.”

“How am I supposed to help him if you won’t let me see him again?”

“Do you really want me to bring him back now? Into this mess?!”

“Y/N Y/L/N! ARE YOU IN DANGER? IF YOU DO NOT RESPOND IN 30 SECONDS, WE WILL BREAK DOWN THE DOOR.”

“Promise I’ll see him again? Please.”

“You don’t have the power to bargain!”

“Let me at least say goodbye and I’ll make sure he stays out of jail. Money talks, in case you’re too high on your fucking horse to remember that!”

Mr. Robot’s eyes bore into mine as he decided whether to trust me or to take his luck with the penal system.

I pressed, “And you still have to reverse the hack—I can’t help Elliot stay out of jail if that data gets sold.”

The front door splintered and my foot jumped to the powerstrip under my dad’s desk. I paused near the button, waiting for Mr. Robot’s answer before plunging us into darkness.

“Fine—I undo the hack, you get to say goodbye, then you stay the fuck out of his life. Or else we do this alllll over again, princess.”

I nodded my agreement to his terms.

Mr. Robot jumped back from the doorway as a crunch of noise indicated the front door had been flung open.

A rush of movement flooded into the house.

“Put your hands on your head and don’t move!” I ordered as I kicked off the powerstrip under dad’s desk before rushing out of the office, my hands on my head as I stood in front of the door.

“He’s unarmed! He’s not a threat! He’s not a threat!” I repeated as an officer moved toward me and pulled me away from the office door, ushering me outside to safety.

The other two policemen entered Dad’s office and instructed Mr. Robot to get down on his knees.

As soon as my feet touched the sidewalk, I saw my dad pull in behind one of the cruisers. He leapt out of the car, not even bothering to cut the ignition.

I was bubbling with anger as I shook off the policeman’s grasp and crossed the lawn.

“How could you?!” I yelled before my mouth went dry and I felt a churning in my gut. As I was forced to quell my anger or end up being sick on our front lawn, I looked at my dad’s face; it was so filled with worry that for the first time in my life, he looked every bit his age.

He never stopped moving toward me and grabbed me in a fierce hug when he finally reached me. He tried to shield me from watching who he knew as Elliot being escorted into the police cruiser, but I pushed out of his grasp, needing to know that Mr. Robot hadn’t abandoned the person we both loved at a time when he really did need his protector.

There was nothing in his demeanor that signaled a return to Elliot as Mr. Robot calmly slid into the backseat of the cruiser, his hands cuffed, his face a stoical mask.

“You need to tell the police why he broke into our home, Y/N,” my dad said from somewhere behind me.

“Absolutely not.”

“I love you, Y/N, but you are not thinking clearly!” my dad reprimanded, uncharacteristically raising his voice.

“Of course I am!”

“It’s been him all along. All the hacks—I know it has.”

“That wasn’t him—not entirely.”

“What? Like a hacking ring?”

I laughed, a crazy tittering that felt so out of place on our pristine lawn in front of our huge house. My father had no idea how right he was.

I turned to him to explain, “The person who broke in tonight wasn’t the Elliot you’ve met. He has Dissociative Identity Disorder but he doesn’t know he has it. It’s complicated.”

My father’s face didn’t lose its sternness as he considered what I just told him.

“I know you love him, sweetheart, but—”

“He needs help, Dad,” I begged. “He needs us to be the family he doesn’t have.”  

As an officer approached and began asking a series of questions, my mind wondered back to all the quiet dreams I had about a future with Elliot, many of those dreams beginning in this house over the Fourth of July. Now, I felt like my whole world had gone grey; there was no bright goodness to be found in white, no rift of black to clearly signal evil, and no limitless possibilities held within all the bright colors between. Everything was just … grey.

“At this time, are you aware of any reason the subject in custody may have broken into your home?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at my father.

“… No. No, officer. I am not.”

I leaned into him, welcoming his strong arm as it wrapped protectively around my shoulders.  

* * * * *

A few hours later, our family lawyer, Thea, met us at the Greenwich Police Department. My dad filled her in as we sat in the waiting area, but I could tell by the frown on her face that Elliot’s case had the potential to be difficult.

“Connecticut has pretty strict laws on burglary—”

“He wasn’t stealing.”

Thea knew better than to ask anything else.

“It’s very helpful you aren’t filing additional charges. If I can swing it, I’d like to get the burglary charge changed to trespassing, then plead out at arraignment. That’s only if I can’t get it dismissed.”

I took a deep breath and spoke slowly, scared that somehow Mr. Robot would hear me.

“The charge can’t be dismissed because Elliot needs court-mandated therapy. He … he won’t go otherwise.”

“Does he have a documented mental illness?”

“Not documented, no. I was thinking … what if you could get him ordered to therapy for anger management?”

“Did he destroy any property at the house?”

“What if he intended to, but was interrupted? There’s … the possibility of establishing a pattern of behavior.”

Thea thought for a moment, then put her hand up when she saw me open my mouth again.

“I don’t want to know anything else until I talk to Mr. Alderson. Based on the police report and your cooperation, I have enough now to try to downgrade to a trespassing charge. We aren’t in the city, so I don’t know anything about the judge on the docket. I’m going to make a few calls and see if I can find anything out.

“Elliot should be out of booking by now and in a holding room.”  

“Can I see him?”

“Not until I do.”

“Charles Y/L/N?” interrupted a policeman who introduced himself as Captain Neiley. “The Chief told me to make sure you had anything you needed—Tony gave him a call early this morning.”

“Thank you,” Dad replied earnestly, shaking the Captain’s hand.

Because of my father’s connections, I soon found myself peering into a small, concrete room from behind the glass of a very small window, much smaller than the ones on television, as Elliot, or rather Mr. Robot, interacted with Thea.

I could tell it was not going well by the twist of Thea’s mouth and by the way Mr. Robot refused to look in her direction, much less sit down and talk to her. He was distrustful, and clearly, angry.

I looked around for an officer and when I found one, I asked her if she could get my attorney out. She nodded and unlocked the door, signaling for Thea.

“You shouldn’t be here right now, Y/N.”

“He’ll talk, but not to you … not yet. I need to tell him it’s safe.”

Thea sighed and bowed her head. She shrugged her shoulders as she looked back up and answered, “Go ahead. But anything he says to you is not going to help—he needs to talk to me.”

The officer opened the door again and when I walked into the room, I saw that Mr. Robot had finally sat down. As he looked at me, a war started to take place behind his eyes. He was silent for a long, long time and I just stood by the door with my back pressed against it, waiting to see if Mr. Robot would let go.

Finally, I saw it—the same subtle fluttering of his eyes as the night in my apartment.

“Y/N?” Elliot asked, both his voice and his eyes raw with vulnerability.

“Elliot,” I stated, unable to hold back my tears at finally seeing him again.  

“I’m here to help, El,” I choked out, “but you—all of you--have to let me help you.”

Elliot’s eyes filled with pools of tears before he shifted, his gaze on the steel of the table and his hands cradling his head.

“I can’t remember … only fragments and—” he looked up suddenly, his face turning to stare into the empty corner of the room where Mr. Robot had been standing before he sat down.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Elliot’s head whipped back in my direction, his eyes widening, his mouth falling open in horror.

“I know about Mr. Robot. It’s okay, Elliot. I’ve met him.”

“No—nobody knows about him.”

“He protects you.”

“Can you see him, too?”

“No, El. I can’t. I just know … it’s hard to explain, but I know you sometimes see him. It’s rare, but sometimes that’s just what happens with people like you.”

“In my mind,” Elliot groaned. “He’s only supposed to be in my mind.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry things have gotten this bad.”

“Oh god,” he moaned, his hands pulling hard at his hair as he rocked back in his seat. “I’m crazy—I’m a fucking schizo and you’re committing me.”  

“Tell him what happened tonight,” I said, my eyes flicking to the corner to indicate I wanted Mr. Robot to talk to Elliot.

Elliot looked to the corner again. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the room was silent. Whatever happened between Elliot and Mr. Robot did, indeed, only happen in his mind.

As I waited, I thought back to my research on DID, and I knew Elliot was in an extremely vulnerable state. I also knew what it meant to have his alters interact with me—I needed to be very careful not to break Mr. Robot’s trust since we had made a deal.

After a few minutes passed, Elliot sprang out of his chair and leapt toward the wall, his fist slamming into the concrete with a sick thud.

Elliot left his fist against the wall and leaned into it, tears streaming down his face as he broke down.

I rushed to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, molding my body to his and pressing into his back.

“It’s okay, Elliot. It’s okay. I’m here,” I soothed, my own tears flowing in a fresh wave because of his pain.

His hand fell away from the wall and he brought it to rest over my arms.  

I pulled him away from the wall and turned him to face me, his legs buckling and both of us sliding to the floor. I pulled him to me, so much like that night in my closet during the Fourth of July.

“I’m here. I’m here, Elliot. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into my neck, his tears wet and smearing into my skin.

“He didn’t give me a choice—I had to do the ha—”

“You can’t talk about any of that right now. Not until you talk to the lawyer.”

“I hurt you—your father, your family,” Elliot said, his voice a dull rasp as he finally looked up at me, his cheeks a wet mess. I shifted to my knees so I could cradle his face in my hands; I wiped at his tears, careful to avoid the bruise on his cheek that had changed from red to an ugly burgundy, smoothed his brows, and swiped at his nose with the sleeve of my sweater.

As I touched him, he hiccupped, his breath evening out as he pulled himself together.

I kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose.

“Listen,” I said, holding his face in my hands and pushing his chin up with my thumbs. “I need you to talk to Thea, our lawyer. She’s going to help us.”

“Us,” Elliot whispered, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye and sliding down the side of my thumb.

“For now, but Mr. Robot wants me to let you go.”

Elliot frowned and leaned back, his head resting on the wall as I let my hands fall away from his face. A part of him clearly still hoped I could be in this with him, but we both knew I couldn’t be.

“I’m so tired of fighting him, Y/N. He’s … persistent.”

“Yeah. So I noticed,” I said with a quick upturn of my lips, watching as Elliot’s eyes continued to look at the ceiling.

“You need to be the one to talk to Thea. Mr. Robot needs to let you stay in control. Will you, and I mean YOU, I said waving in the direction of Mr. Robot but keeping my eyes trained on Elliot’s face, stay buried so he can get out of this mess?”  

Elliot looked over and up at Mr. Robot with a ferocity I hadn’t seen before.

His eyes returned to mine and he nodded.

“There’s something else.”

Elliot’s brows contracted as he looked at my face.

I moved close to him, slowly wrapping my arms around his neck in a hug. I turned toward his ear, whispering, “The data dump on the Dark Web—can you make it disappear?”

Elliot pulled me into the hug, his mouth nestling in next to my ear as he reached up to grasp my hair, burying his face in it.

“I built a security during the hack. If a password wasn’t entered every 45 minutes, the data would disappear from the Market. It’s gone now.”

I squeezed him and he tightened his grip as he inhaled, trying to lose himself in the scent of me.  

“Just like that night I needed to find you. Coney Island. You left your computer logged on.”

“Yes,” he answered, his confirmation a low, comforting rumble.  

“Can you—will you stay with me until this is all over?”

“Thea has to talk to you alone, but I’ll be right outside. I’ll go every step of the way that I can with you—as long as Mr. Robot lets me.”

Elliot swallowed thickly, and I pulled away from him. We looked into each other’s eyes until the door opened, then he cast his gaze to the floor.

“Ready to talk, Mr. Alderson?”

* * * * *

Over an hour later, I almost jumped out of my skin when Thea finally emerged from the holding room.

Dad had insisted I eat something, but since I refused to leave, he ran out and got breakfast. I ate enough to make him satisfied, but just as I rounded the corner to throw away our trash, I heard the door open.

I rushed back and caught the door, needing to see Elliot again.

“You’re right, Y/N,” Thea said quietly. “Elliot doesn’t belong in prison, but he needs, at a minimum, a few months of court-mandated therapy. He … destroyed some servers at CIStech?”

My dad frowned, remembering the incident that brought Elliot and I together.

“It was never a romantic story to begin with, Dad,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

I turned my attention back to Thea and asked what that had to do with anything.

“You took care of that one, huh?”

“I did.”

Thea looked at me for a long moment, then began, “There is no way for the DA to prove that Elliot had the intent of committing a criminal act while on your property unless you or your dad have something—”

“We don’t.”

My father shook his head no, and Thea’s mouth quirked up at the corner, “Of course not.”

“How long will this take?”

“I’m taking my offer to the DA now. If they agree to it, the judge may rule at arraignment and this whole thing could be over today.”

“Thank you, Thea. Can I say goodbye?”

“Be quick because Elliot is going to be moved to a holding room outside of the court, soon. I’ll see you over there.”

“Thank you,” I said again before pulling the door open.

Before the door even shut, Elliot stood and began pacing, his voice raspy with overuse as he started talking.

“I have to give you up. He’s not going to leave me alone until I do. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did. I’m sorry for letting him do this to you. I’m sorry—"

“Elliot, slow down,” I said as I crossed the room and intercepted his pacing. He stopped with a start in front of me and stuffed his hands in his hoodie’s pockets.

I reached out and lightly squeezed his shoulders, moving my hands down his biceps, and over his forearms. I felt him relax under my repetitive touches, and when it was clear he wasn’t about to climb the wall, I stepped closer and slid my hands into his hoodie’s pockets.

“How’s your hand?” I asked, feeling the swollen knuckles of his right hand in comparison to the unaffected left.

“That’s how this whole thing started,” Elliot said, pulling both of our hands out of his pockets. His shook as he held onto mine. “You took such good care of me.”

“I kept you prisoner in my apartment.”

“And here we are now,” Elliot said with a small smile.

My heart ached at how easy this was with him … how easy it was when it was just him.

“I hate this,” Elliot said in agony as he searched my face, surely sensing that I was on the verge of falling apart again.

I looked into his big grey eyes and let myself get lost, swept back into the love I felt for him, knowing this could be the last time I ever saw him.

“I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry for whatever happened that made you need Mr. Robot. You need to figure out what’s at the root of all of this, why you keep forgetting, and I’m not the one who can do that for you. But you know what? I am going to make sure you have a real chance at getting professional help.”

“I know,” Elliot said, lowering his eyes but still holding on to my hands.

“Know what else? I love you.”

Elliot’s eyes snapped back up to mine, and again, I saw a fierce determination unlike anything I’d ever seen in his eyes before.

“I’m gonna be happy with you someday, Y/N. I’m gonna love you like you love me.”

I held his gaze as I shook off the grip of his hands to reach up and cradle his face.

“You have to love yourself first, Elliot. Mr. Robot is never going to let go of his control as long as you need him to…meet whatever need it is you need met.”

“I’m never going to forget you loved me first—never.”

As if all the pieces of my heart weren’t already broken, I knew that wasn’t true. Mr. Robot was going to delete me. Elliot was never going to remember that someone loved him first. All I could hope for was that Mr. Robot was listening right now, a part of him feeling compassionate enough to allow Elliot to one day restore a previous version of himself, this version.

“Will you wait for me? I know I don’t have a right to ask, but have I earned the right to hope that you will?”

Before I could answer him, an officer opened the door and said it was time to move to the courthouse.

I melted into Elliot’s arms, and he hugged me. I felt determination radiate from him.

He’s so much stronger than Mr. Robot thinks.

I pulled back, knowing the officer was waiting, and I reached up to cup his face one more time. I memorized his face until my eyes filled with tears and he became a blur. I blinked away those tears and I tried to absorb the love that so clearly emanated from his beautiful eyes.

I leaned in to kiss Elliot, and he pressed his entire body into mine, molding his lips against mine as if our mouths had been designed from conception just to connect like this in this single moment.

I knew he could taste the salt of my tears as I broke the kiss and managed to look at him one last time before my vision blurred again and I rushed out the door. I only just made it to the bathroom in time to throw up everything I ate, and as I knelt on the worn, green and white bathroom floor, surrounded by the smell of bleach that tried its best to cover up the stench of urine and failed, my grief finally pulled me under and I let myself drown. Then, for the second time in less than a week, I felt my father’s arms tighten around me as I fell apart.

—Narrator—

November 2014

Mr. Robot whispered to Elliot as he worked, reassuring him this was for the best. Seeing Darlene on Halloween for the first time in over five months reopened a chasm of loneliness Elliot hadn’t felt since—

“You’re really fucking this up, kiddo,” Mr. Robot said from where he was leaning against the wall. “This is what happens when you don’t stick to the plan. You’ve got to get that job at Allsafe with Angela.”

“I know. For fuck’s sake, I know,” Elliot growled as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

His hand reached to click the mouse as he dragged all of the pictures on his phone onto the CD sitting in his drive.

“No, son,” Mr. Robot said as Elliot popped the disk out of the drive. “You’re not done yet.”

Elliot looked at him, his brows drawn in confusion.

“Why can’t you just tell me why we have to keep doing this?”

“You’re not ready to know, Elliot. You created me to be your protector; you have to trust me to do what’s best to keep you safe. So … be a part of this, or I can do it myself. Either way, everything, except Angela, has got to go.”

As Elliot pushed the CD that would hold all of his memories back into the drive, Master Mind watched.

And more importantly, Master Mind waited.

He knew he had one chance at this, exactly one chance to take control and to fix everything Mr. Robot had done. He had one chance to make the world a place where Elliot could finally be happy without condition. He had one chance to restore Elliot’s previous version, effectively recovering all the data Mr. Robot had been deleting over the past few months.

“Alright, kiddo,” Mr. Robot said as Elliot tucked the unlabeled CD into the otherwise empty black binder and tossed it to the floor, kicking it under his bookshelf. “It’s time.

Elliot took a deep breath as he prepared to relinquish control to Mr. Robot, trusting in his protector, but just before Mr. Robot could take over, Master Mind seized his chance.

Elliot’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but it was too late; as Master Mind took complete control for the first time, Elliot slipped into a black void.

* * * * *

Elliot Alderson sat in the waiting room of the third cybersecurity firm he had interviewed with. This one, though, seemed different. He liked that it didn’t hide who it was.

“CIStech: Always Vigilant” read the sign on the glass door he had pushed open only a few minutes ago.

Yes, Elliot decided he definitely liked this company, so far. Being vigilant was smart. Too many people were happy to live without awareness, happy to live in their bubbles of the naïve just so they could feel good until someone told them what else they neededto have to keep feeling good.*

Elliot cleared his throat as he heard his name announced over the intercom at the secretary’s desk.

“Jayne? Bring in Mr. Alderson, please.”

He was drawn to that voice on the intercom. He liked it—confident, but kind.

Elliot shifted in his seat, ready to stand.

He took a deep breath as he followed the secretary into what was clearly meant to be a friendly, comfortable atmosphere. Instead of a large panel of interviewers, it was just three people. Instead of interviewing in a board room, it was in an office with a round table.

Like equals, Elliot thought. Except they’ve got the power to decide what happens next in my life.

“Mr. Alderson,” a man began, extending his hand. “I’m Colin Greene, Supervisor.

Fuck. They’re hand-shakers.

Elliot followed protocol, reminding himself that his was how to play the game. He shook the second Supervisor’s hand, and then—

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Senior Manager.”

Elliot stared at Y/N, finally remembering that she was waiting for him to shake her hand, but Elliot felt afraid to touch her.

What if I touch her and she disappears? Like some kind of dream?

Elliot almost laughed out loud at that thought, but something pulsed inside of him, something that made him long to touch this stranger who seemed so familiar to him, who seemed like someone so much more important than a Supervisor at a mediocre cybersecurity firm.

A surge of excitement coursed through Elliot as he extended his hand, not knowing what was going to happen next. As his eyes locked onto the stranger’s, he watched as a sweet smile pulled at her lips, a smile that made him feel safe.

And for a reason he couldn’t explain, made him feel loved.

GIF Credit: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r

A/N 2.0: Thank you, thank you, thank you for going on this journey with me. Your comments, likes, and reblogs kept me moving along even when I wanted nothing more than to throw my computer out of the window and give up. I put a lot into this story, and it is the longest thing I’ve ever written. I would love to know how you felt about the story or if you have anything you want to ask/discuss, so hit me up with a comment or an ask.

I love Elliot, and I am so glad you do, too. Thank you for indulging me, as always. -xMx ❤️

Tags: @sherlollydramoine​ @rami-malek-trash​ @teamwolf2411 @limabein​ @txmel​ @alottanothing​ @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​ @moon-stars-soul​ @free-rami @ramimedley​ @hopplessdreamer​ @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall​ @hah0106​ @clumsybookworm18​ @diasimar​ @ramisgirl512​ @aboutthatmelancholystorm​

And a special thank you tag to my cheerleader who gives me the best comments with so many pterodactyl screeches that my heart soars every time I read them. Thank you @alottanothing​! 

A/N 3.0: All of my research on DID indicates that while there are many commonalities, every system is pretty unique. For example, while many folks who have DID may have a “protector” figure, their protector will function uniquely for the needs of their system. The way I treated DID in this particular fic is a combination of my informal research and just taking what Sam Esmail gave us and working within his parameters. It’s actually super uncommon for alters to manifest and be “seen,” but I stuck with that idea because it was Sam’s and was so integral to the show. I am a singleton, so I am not an expert, nor do I claim to be an authority of any kind when it comes to the incredible complexities of being a system. 

[antoine-roquentin]

NYTimes gets it wrong again

How YouTube Radicalized Brazil

Members of the nation’s newly empowered far right — from grass-roots organizers to federal lawmakers — say their movement would not have risen so far, so fast, without YouTube’s recommendation engine.

New research has found they may be correct. YouTube’s search and recommendation system appears to have systematically diverted users to far-right and conspiracy channels in Brazil.

The Global Machine Behind the Rise of Far-Right Nationalism

As the 2018 elections approached, Swedish counterintelligence was on high alert for foreign interference. Russia, the hulking neighbor to the east, was seen as the main threat. After the Kremlin’s meddling in the 2016 American election, Sweden had reason to fear it could be next.

“Russia’s goal is to weaken Western countries by polarizing the debate,” said Daniel Stenling, the Swedish Security Service’s counterintelligence chief. “For the last five years, we have seen more and more aggressive intelligence work against our nation.”

once again, we get a pair of “technology and foreign actors are destroying us”, ignoring that the root cause of polarization are the economic failures in both these countries, particularly the abandonment of more left wing economic policies by centre-left parties in order to serve neoliberal economic orthodoxy. brazil saw rising incomes from the early 2000s to the early 2010s through a combination of increasing sales of raw goods to china and redistribution of income internally. the worker’s party (PT) could do this mostly because the latter primarily affected money made through the former, without touching the actual pre-existing wealth disparities within brazil. combined with rapidly falling prices of computer hardware and cell phones, a newly moneyed lower middle class in brazil could afford to spend their time online more and more (one result being the dominance the young brazilian team luminosity gaming saw in the cs go scene). the problem was, as chinese economic growth slowed in the early 2010s, their purchases of brazilian goods stagnated, leading to economic turmoil. the solution of the PT was not to spend money internally to stimulate demand, which would have alienated the already antagonistic brazilian bourgeoisie even further, but to resort to spending cuts and government revenue increases, which antagonized its base and did not restore economic growth. as a result, the party was destroyed, particularly by the narrative that it had given too much to the lower class and the precarious lower middle class it had empowered suffered as a result. bolsonaro came to power on a specific promise of redistributing income from the poor to everybody else as a way of getting through the impasse of brazilian economic growth with obviously disastrous results, which is why his administration is floundering so intensely. 

similarly, in sweden, the social democratic party have taken to crippling the social welfare state and attacking worker consumption as a way out of financial crises since the early 90s. as a result, their vote share in 2018 was the lowest it’s been since 1911, and workers have fled the party. once again, by attacking its base of support, it has managed to cling to a degree of power without alienating capital, but at the cost of driving many of these people into the arms of fascists who are able to provide better narratives of why they are no longer making as much money and able to buy as much stuff as they used to. even if youtube or russia today did not exist, they would still seek out these narratives and listen to those who could provide them. youtube and russia today both seek to draw eyes to their content because more eyes means more money, which is why they tend to host absurd conspiracy theories and platform maniacs. the thing is, that’s also the business model of mainstream american news orgs, which is why cnn puts richard spencer on its channel and why fox news took soros conspiracy theories from billionaire-funded dark money think tanks like the gatestone institute and the david horowitz freedom center in the mid-2000s. most of the shit you see in these videos have been thought of and focus-tested within the right wing think tank dark money ecosphere, who spend many, many times the amount of money that right wing video producers on youtube and media managers on state-funded tv stations spend. give people a real left wing alternative, and they’ll see through the bullshit, but deny them one and you end up with kooks like bolsonaro and the swedish dems. 

[thingdog5]

Pubg Mobile Uc

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[chroniccombustion]

A Corner of Memories pt. 1

From “Seven Days to Eternity“, part of @souyoweek2019

Genre: Soulmate!AU, romance, M/M Rated: K+ Characters: Yosuke Hanamura, Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), mentions of the Investigation Team, mentions of Saki Konishi Warnings: mentions of canon minor character death Status: oneshot collection, incomplete

next chapter ->

Day 1: Soulmate or Music

“The soul is made of music,” the teacher tells the class one day when Yosuke is about five or six. “And each person has half or part of a special Song that only they and their destined partner know. No one else can replicate it, because nobody is born with all the parts – you have to find the people that know the rest of it to make the melody into a full Song.”

Hanamura Yosuke is born with half a song stuck in his head.

He isn’t special; almost every single person in the world is born with a Soul Song. Some are platonic, some are romantic, some are somewhere in between. Loud and bold and intense, sweet and soft and warm; there is every sort of music imaginable, but none of them are complete.

They teach the story in school. “The soul is made of music,” the teacher tells the class one day when Yosuke is about five or six. “And each person has half or part of a special Song that only they and their destined partner know. No one else can replicate it, because nobody is born with all the parts – you have to find the people that know the rest of it to make the melody into a full Song.”

It’s a beautiful thought, really – the idea that somewhere out there is a person that’s meant for him exclusively, someone that he’s meant for, too, that the both of them are tailor made for one another in the most cosmically profound way possible.

Yosuke knows his song is romantic. He knows in a way he cannot explain, just like no one can explain just how they know the missing piece of their Song when they hear it. The tune in his head is slow and pretty, with a bittersweet tint of nostalgia and longing, but happy and hopeful at the same time. It sounds like a hard-won love, like coming home and falling into someone’s arms after at the end of a golden summer day. He doesn’t know how he knows all of this, but he does, and from the time he’s little, Yosuke wants nothing more than to find the other half of himself.

He is eight when he asks his parents to get him a guitar. At first they refuse, but after several weeks of begging and pleading they settle on a compromise; if he can save up the money to get one for himself, then his parents will pay for lessons. Yosuke excitedly agrees. He hoards his allowance, his birthday money, does odd jobs for his mom and for neighbors around the apartment complex where they live. He’s too young still to get a job, but he does what he can, and saves and saves and saves until eventually he has enough to walk into the music store downtown and buy a simple acoustic six-string. It’s the greatest day of this little life.

His parents follow through on their half of the bargain – likely because they see how serious he is about the whole guitar thing now that he’s bought one all by himself. It’s slow going, like anything worth putting time and effort into, but Yosuke doesn’t mind in the least. He would rather take his time and make it good, than rush though and make something half-assed.

After all, one day in the not-so-distant future, he’s going to put his Song out there for the whole world to hear, so that wherever she is, his soul mate knows it’s for her. It absolutely, absolutely cannot be anything less than perfect.

So Yosuke practices. He practices and he learns and he listens, wondering if maybe someone has already put something out there for him to respond to. As he moves from child into preteen and becomes more versed in the internet, he scours forums, specialty sites, anything that he can get into at his age that will let him listen to the Songs that people have put up. He knows it’s a long shot, that there are so many people out there, so many Songs, that it’ll take him eons to get through them all, but he keeps going. Just in case. Just in case.

When he turns sixteen he signs up for his own account on every single free site he can and saves up once again to buy himself a small microphone. He plays his Song over and over and over again to himself in his bedroom, getting it just right, getting it perfect as he waits to be able to record it.

But then his parents tell him that they’re moving.

At first, Yosuke doesn’t quite know what to think. Moving isn’t bad, per se, but he likes where they are. The city is full of people, is accessible; he has a better chance of meeting his soul mate in a place like the city than he would somewhere else. If she isn’t here with him like he likes to imagine – somewhere on the other side of the subway tracks from him as he goes out with friends to the arcade, or sitting at a lonely table inside a café as he passes by the window outside – then he at least has the ability to get to her. This place is connected to everything; if he leaves now, then how far do his odds drop?

He nearly has a heart attack when they tell him where they’re moving to.

Nowhere. Absolutely fucking nowhere is where they’re moving to. He looks it up online, discovers that Inaba is a tiny, god-forsaken little dollop of rural nothingness hours and hours away from where he is now. He can’t breathe. How is he supposed to find his other half in a place like that? There’s no way. Even if she hears his Song then there’s the very real possibility that they won’t be able to meet, not when he’s stuck out in no man’s land with nothing but mountains and silence.

His microphone comes in just before they finish packing, but he doesn’t have a chance to record his Song before his family leaves. Maybe, he tells himself in an attempt to keep his heart from sinking, maybe this will turn out okay in the end. Maybe she’ll be there instead of in the city.

The first few months in Inaba are utter hell. His family is blamed for the sudden decline in sales throughout the shopping district, which brands him as a monster from the very first day. He tries, he really does; he goes to work under his dad and keeps a smile on his face when in view of other people, keeping his abject misery hidden until he can retreat back to his bedroom. He lets the comments, aimed like barbs at his throat, slide off his shoulders, pretends not to hear what other people say behind his back. He makes himself into a caricature, sunny smiles and unfailingly jovial, and all the while tries not to feel himself sink lower and lower as the weeks pass and he stays stagnant without even so much as a friend.

There are a few people that are kinder to him – two of the boys in the sports clubs, a brash, tom-boyish girl in his class that likes to aim punches at his head sometimes. And then there’s Saki-senpai.

Saki-senpai is soft, sweet, friendly to him in a way that seems easy and natural. He basks in her presence like a flower in the sunlight and, for a while, he wonders if maybe she could be his soul mate. Her voice when she speaks to him, a tired laugh in her words, sounds like she could be made of the same chords as his Song. He doesn’t know what hers sounds like, never seems to get the chance to ask or the luck of overhearing her humming it to herself like he’d always pictured happening. He doesn’t mind, though. He thinks of he microphone still packed away in this closet at home, of his guitar, still in its case in the corner by his bed, and thinks about possibly recording his Song after all. Maybe he can give it to her on a CD after work one day, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll catch him outside before a shift the day after and tell him with a happy smile that she’s heard him loud and clear.

He lets the plan slowly build inside his mind, thinking of how he can set up his desk upstairs to accommodate a small recoding station. He still has a few more boxes to unpack (he’s always been slow to put stuff away when it wasn’t in a work situation), so he needs to finish doing that before he has room to start on this, but what he can do is practice. He goes home from school or from work and for a month straight he familiarizes himself with his instrument and re-teaches himself the movements of his hands. He doesn’t need to remember the tune itself, ingrained permanently as it is into his very soul.

Seta Souji moves to Inaba at the start of the next term and almost immediately Yosuke is intrigued. Seta is quiet, mysterious, and right away his welcome to the town is a million times more positive than Yosuke’s had been. Yosuke can kind of see why, too; Seta is new, and therefore gossip-worthy, but because he’s not tied to Junes and the subsequent drama surrounding the shopping district, he’s free game to be viewed with excitement, in a positive light. (It doesn’t help that Seta is handsome in a storybook, ethereal kind of way, but Yosuke would never admit that in a hundred years.)

He wants to hate him, wants to be jealous of him, but as much as Yosuke is bitter about the vast difference in the way Inaba treats their newest hyperfixation vs. the way they’ve been treating him, Yosuke finds he just… can’t. He can’t dislike the new kid. Seta has been shipped out here with no say in the matter, just like Yosuke had been, so it’s not really his fault that he’s here. And honestly, if Yosuke looks hard enough, just past that neutral expression that Seta wears, Yosuke thinks he can see just the tiniest hint of discomfort. Maybe even loneliness.

It’s hard to hate the guy when he reminds Yosuke too much of himself.

Yosuke goes home that afternoon wondering if he has a chance of getting a new friend out of this if he plays his cards right, since Seta doesn’t know him as the “Prince of Junes.” Besides, what with them both being unwillingly transferred from their home in the city, Yosuke figures he Seta could use a kindred spirit. He heads for his room at the end of the day with plans to talk to the guy at school in the morning. Maybe say hello, offer to show him around town.

He’s busy digging through the boxes still stacked in his closet when midnight hits without him knowing it. He’d completely forgotten about the bullshit Midnight Channel rumor that Satonaka had told him until his TV cuts on by itself and bathes his bedroom in an eerie yellow glow. He watches, transfixed – because seriously? How can this be real? – as through the flickering static there comes the image of a girl. Soft and tired, with rounded, delicate features; Yosuke would know Saki-senpai’s face anywhere.

He feels like his heart is about to explode.

The TV clicks back off again and the room goes dim once more. Yosuke stays where he is, watching the dark television screen with the after image of his soul mate in his eyes.

He doesn’t get to talk to Saki-senpai much the next day, however, as she’s just coming off her break when he spots her while up in the food court with Seta and Satonaka. (He’d gotten his wish to hang out with the new kid, at least, though not without having made a fool of himself for the second time in front of him by getting stuck in a trashcan. Still, Seta had yet to seem like he was holding it over Yosuke’s head, so the gleam of hope hasn’t faded just yet.) Sadly, Saki-senpai seems too tired, to distracted to talk, so as much as Yosuke wants to ask her if she’d watched the Midnight Channel, too, if she’d seen him, too, he holds off. There’s always the next day, after all. Plus, he still needs to play his Song for her, so maybe it’s better that he wait for a little bit longer. Now that he knows who his soul mate is, he can take his time and do it right.

Except he can’t. Because Saki-senpai’s body is found dangling above the town not even a full day later and Yosuke feels the world crumbling out from underneath him.

So close. He’d been so close to her; he’d been waiting his entire life to meet her, to hear what their combined Soul Song would sound like once it was complete. But even having suspected it was her, having had it confirmed in a roundabout way and knowing it was her, he’d taken too long and now she’s gone. He should have talked to her sooner, should have played his half of their Song for her sooner. Maybe then he could have stopped her death.

Yosuke doesn’t know what to do with himself, doesn’t know how to bring himself off of autopilot because he’s too numb, too scared of what he’ll feel when he isn’t numb anymore. So in a blind effort to do something, to keep himself focused so that the numbness stays and he pain stays away, he does the only thing he can possibly think to do: he ropes Seta into going back into the TV with him to see if they can settle the score.

Long afterwards, when Yosuke is exhausted and sore and there’s a new voice whispering in the back of his skull, he catches up to Seta – to Souji – and shakes his hand as equals. “I’m counting on you, Partner,” he says, and there is the funniest little click inside his heart that almost feels like someone has run their hands across a piano’s keys in an ascending scale.

He tries not to think about the way it makes his whole body shiver.

  The next few months are a like a fever dream. Yosuke throws himself into their cause, cutting through dungeon after dungeon, standing at Souji’s side, defiant in the faces of his new friends’ shadows. It’s exhilarating, empowering, and Yosuke can feel the pain in his chest slowly growing scar tissue with each and every person that gets added to their group.

He misses Saki-senpai. He misses her and the chance that they never got to have, but there is also something there that Yosuke is a little afraid to look at too closely. He misses her, wishes he could have known her as his soul mate, but the more time that goes by he realizes that maybe, horribly, he misses the concept of her, of what they could have been and what he’ll never have now, more than he does her. They’d never had the time to be more than what they were, and he hates to admit it to himself but he’s seen what happens when he keeps things bottled up and denies them.

Sometimes, after a particularly draining dungeon crawl, Yosuke lies in bed and stares up at the ceiling and listens to the song still playing slow and pretty in his soul. He lets himself think about Saki-senpai as much as he can without also letting in that tearing sensation of loss, and finds that, while the wound is still fresh, it no longer bleeds. It hurts more to think that he doesn’t miss her as much as he thinks he should, than it does to think about her on her own.

He thinks about his future, a life without the hope of one day making his Song whole, and that’s when the ache in his lungs starts to take hold – like he’s drowning on dry land.

What’s worse is that his mind immediately jumps to a different face, a different set of silvery eyes to kick him back out of his suffocation. He doesn’t know if he’s just substituting his best friend as a source of comfort or what, but it tangles him up inside in a way he cannot name. Yosuke always goes to sleep on those nights with a tugging at his heart that he tells himself must be grief.

They fight on. With each person rescued the IT gains a new member, and Yosuke starts to feel damn near invincible. He holds the feeling close to his chest for as long as he is able because for the first time in his life he is useful, he is powerful. The more he fights the more he wonders if Saki-senpai would be proud of him for all the good the Investigation Team is doing. He hopes she is, wherever she might be now. He knows what she thought of him; he still remembers the echoing words of her Shadow left over in the gloom of the twisted liquor store. He knows that she didn’t like him much – but it’s alright. It’s alright because Yosuke can still mourn for her, can mourn for what they might have been to one another; despite his qualms about his own emotions, he knows he did genuinely care for her. Maybe it’s not as much as he wishes it were, but it’s still there.

So her words of scorn don’t deter him. It hurts, yes, knowing her true feelings, but it isn’t what’s important right now. Not even when his mind takes a sharp curve and reminds him that he might have been able to change her opinion of him if he’d just told her sooner; just like he might have been able to prevent her death.

But right now it doesn’t matter. The past can’t be changed; all he can do at the moment is try and shape the future one kidnapping victim at a time. Maybe it will be enough to earn her forgiveness one day, even if he cannot earn his own.

Time continues to pass as if nothing has happened, creeping along and yet flying at the same time. Soon it’s the end of summer, then fall, and suddenly winter is upon them and the Investigation Team is up to eight members. One murderer is already behind bars. It isn’t Saki-senpai’s murderer, but it’s still a murderer, which is confirmation that what they’re doing, what Yosuke is doing, is good.

But like everything else in his life, doing good just isn’t good enough.

November takes Yosuke’s newfound confidence, his small sense of pre-peace, and smashes it against the ground like it’s made of hollow glass. He watches, utterly helpless, as his best friend’s entire world is burned to ashes in the span of a single evening – Nanako is kidnapped, Dojima is hospitalized, and Souji looks like he’s one step away from breaking. Yosuke tries to tell himself it will be okay, that they’ll save her just like they did the others, but he’s become so used to operating under Souji’s command that he feels off-balance now that their unshakable leader is cracking at the edges. He doesn’t even know what to do to help him as a friend except to stay by his side and power through the dungeon as quickly as possible.

It takes days too long. As adept at fighting as they all are, they’re still human and cannot possibly rescue Nanako in one go. So they do what they can until they can’t, and then Yosuke is left to watch as Souji shuts himself entirely down once the rest of the team has crossed back over into the real world. He doesn’t know how to help; once again, Yosuke feels like he’s losing something, only this time he’s watching it happen in front of him in slow motion and he can’t seem to move quick enough to stop it. (He has nightmares of finding Saki-senpai’s body on a power line, which somehow become nightmares of Souji’s eyes, dead inside and blank, staring back at him as he hangs – empty and gone, even with his heart still beating. Yosuke wakes with constricting lungs, Souji and Saki-senpai’s faces superimposed on one another until he can’t be sure who he’s just dreamt about losing.)

Nanako dies.

Yosuke holds his best friend close as Souji cries on his shoulder.

He stays the night with Souji so that the other boy doesn’t have to be alone and tries to stuff down the overwhelming guilt at having failed yet again to save someone he cares about, someone his partner cares about. It keeps him awake long after Souji has finally cried himself into an exhausted sleep.

Not even the pretty Song inside him can drown it out.

[theonyxpath]

Over a month ago, I was talking about Onyx Path‘s sales venues and things like that. Just kind of getting folks caught up on where they could find our stuff and which projects you could find there.

A different, but similar, thing that I wanted to touch on today is some of the other sorts of projects we have to offer beyond book-shaped things. Specifically, because Mighty Matt McElroy sent me some pics of the proofs for a couple of card projects, I’m going to touch on those today.

(Never mind that I haven’t received my card proof samples yet…sob.)

The Realm illustration by Yiyhoung Li

There are two types of card-based projects that we have been creating. The first, are card games. We don’t do a lot of them, as we need to see a clear connection to whatever TTRPG they are derived from or it’s tough to put effort towards them when there are books to be created.

Right now, we have Justin Achilli’s Prince’s Gambit for Vampire: The Masquerade, which we saw as a fun political machinations game that is waaay shorter than a VTES match. Something to play while waiting for your RPG or LARP session to start up.

And Fetch Quest for Realms of Pugmire, which has shipped to Kickstarter backers, should be available to order and in stores in May, and which we are waiting for the PoD proofs for. This is a cooperative card game set in the wilds around Pugmire that complements the TTRPG.

In fact, we’re looking to have the option for folks to make their own cards via DriveThruCards, so folks can play their TTRPG characters.

You might have noticed that the part of DriveThru that deals with these sorts of things is DriveThru Cards, which is a different Print on Demand company than the one who does our books. Everything still all goes through DTRPG, or OBS as it’s corporately known, but the card guys have their own little differences in how they proof, etc.

We’ve been really happy with the quality of their cards, and that’s one of the reasons we have made both the games, and the second type of card projects we put together: roleplaying aids. These can be the extensive selection of Charm Cards for Exalted 3rd, or Condition Cards for our CofD games, or Trick Cards for Pugmire, and more.

Pugmire also has Spell Cards, and right now we are proofing Spell Cards for the Scarred Lands that can be used for a SL campaign, or worked into any 5e fantasy roleplaying session.

If you’re saying, “Hey, what is this here Scarred Lands you keep going on about, Mr. Rich?“, then you should give a listen to last Friday’s Onyx Pathcast where our terrific trio take a Deep Dive into the Scarred Lands setting, and highlight the things that they think really work. Link below in the Blurbs!.

They do a fantastic job of conveying what they love and are intrigued by in Scarred Lands, which is actually really interesting to me, as a guy who helped create it way back in the crazy d20 Rush days. None of our Trio were around then, so to hear them go over the parts that compel them about our new edition and the first one, is kind of like hearing a whole new generation finding it.

Makes me feel both old and proud, by crackee!

C20 Players Guide illustration by Brian LeBlanc

Finally, to wrap up the Scion Errata situation I touched on the last couple of weeks, Neall, in his non-real-world-job time, was able to assemble and create a list of the corrections that he had made but which hadn’t stuck. We turned that into a downloadable PDF (in both full-color and easy to print versions) for any and all to get ahold of, and input the corrections and the backer credits into the PDF and the upcoming PoD files.

When all was said and done, there is a page of Scion: Origin errata, a page of Scion: Hero errata, a page for a FAQ Neall put together, and ten updated pre-generated character sheets. For perspective, Neall’s original list derived from backer input from all over the internet was well over 300 entries (many of them duplicates) across the two books so the vast majority of the fixes worked – except for a page per book’s worth.

While we wanted all of the errata we painstakingly gathered and collated to have stuck as we intended, and we’ve changed a couple of processes to try and make sure that when a change is made it by-gum sticks, we’re just glad that none of them were so bad that they wrecked the books and made them impossible to read and play.

As Neall noted in a message to the backers, we’re disappointed that the projects aren’t as polished as we intended, and we apologize to all involved for disappointing you too.

We will do better, as we continue to create:

Many Worlds, One Path!

BLURBS!

KICKSTARTER:

Our next Kickstarter starting in several weeks will be for Pirates of Pugmire!

ONYX PATH MEDIA

Illustration by Charles Bates

This Friday’s Onyx Pathcast is our 50th! So please join Dixie, Matthew, and Eddy, as they look at Fun! What is “fun” in gaming? Should games even be defined by the fun they provide? Come hear them answer these and other pressing questions of our time on: https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

And Here’s More Media About Our Worlds:

Here’s last week’s Onyx Path News, in which Matthew talks a little about the conclusion of the Contagion Chronicle Kickstarter and the movements on our schedule: https://youtu.be/UGERLK6nFQc

No Contagion Chronicle actual play this week, as our audio failed! We do however have a wonderful Scarred Lands actual play, run by Matthew for the Red Moon Roleplaying folks. Here’s the link to episode one: https://youtu.be/1xmU0HvT1Bw

If YOU have a podcast, YouTube or Twitch channel, or talk about games on a blog or other website, and want to perform actual plays or make reviews of our games, please reach out to the Gentleman Gamer on the Onyx Path forum. From there we’ll share emails and get you started, so when you do start producing content we’ll be able to promote it on our blog and YouTube channel!

Here’s the Story Told Podcast‘s superb Dragon-Blooded actual play, for all of you who are audio-inclined: http://thestorytold.libsyn.com/fall-of-jiara-episode-4

As well as Occultists Anonymous, which ventures into ghost territory with their Mage: The Awakening chronicle: https://youtu.be/_rMd7rda2a0

We’re never not going to promote the superb folks at Devil’s Luck Gaming, with their excellent Scarred Lands actual play: https://www.twitch.tv/DEVILSLUCKGAMING

The Dramatic Failure Podcast ventures into Mage territory over here with a big, big story arc filled with inspirational ideas: https://dramaticfailure.podbean.com/

Please check any of these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games!

ELECTRONIC GAMING:

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is now live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is both rolling and rocking!

Here’s an update from the App devs:

Onyx Dice!  We’ve recently released the Changeling: The Lost, Trinity Continuum: Aeon dice, and now the Geist dice.  Next up on our radar is: Demon: The Fallen,  Mummy: The Resurrection,  Kindred of the East, Vampire Dark Ages, and Mummy: The Curse.

We have a serious issue on the Pixel and Motorola phones that prevent the user from using the app correctly.  A fix is coming shortly.  A temporary workaround is to minimize the app without shutting it down, and then restore it.

ON AMAZON AND BARNES & NOBLE:

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue you bought it from. Reviews really, really help us with getting folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these fiction books:

OUR SALES PARTNERS:

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the Screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

We’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Now, we’ve added Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scarred Lands (Pathfinder) books are also on sale at Studio 2: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/scarred-lands

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can now order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=296

DRIVETHRURPG.COM:

On Sale This Week!

This Wednesday, we’ll be offering the Advance PDF of the Changeling: The Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition Players’ Guide!

CONVENTIONS

UK Games Expo: May 31st – June 2nd From the US comes Eddy Webb, Matt McElroy, and Rich Thomas to join with Matthew Dawkins, Steffie de Vann, John Burke, Chris Allen, and Klara Herbol! Gen Con: August 1st – August 4th Save Against Fear: Oct 12-14 GameHoleCon: October 31st – November 3rd We’ll also be back at PAX Unplugged later this year.

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM FAST EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

Geist2e Fiction Anthology (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum Core)

TC: Aeon Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Wraith20 Fiction Anthology (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

DR:E Jumpstart (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Redlines

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

Heroic Land Dwellers (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

DR:E Threat Guide (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

Second Draft

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Let The Streets Run Red (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #1 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Chicago Folio/Dossier (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Blood Sea: Crimson Abyss for 5e (Scarred Lands)

TC: Aeon Ready Made Characters (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Development

Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Oak, Ash, and Thorn: Changeling: The Lost 2nd Companion (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Memento Mori: the GtSE 2e Companion (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Creatures of the World Bestiary (Scion 2nd Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Manuscript Approval:

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Scion Ready Made Characters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Pirates of Pugmire (Realms of Pugmire)

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Editing:

Spilled Blood (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

CofD Dark Eras 2 (Chronicles of Darkness)

Distant Worlds (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Post-Editing Development:

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

V5 Chicago By Night (Vampire: The Masquerade)

V5 Chicago By Night Screen (Vampire: The Masquerade)

CofD Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Witch-Queen of the Shadowed Citadel (Cavaliers of Mars)

Indexing:

Trinity Core

Trinity Aeon

ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Ex3 Monthly Stuff  

Chicago By Night

They Came From Beneath the Sea!

EX3 Lunars

Hunter: The Vigil 2

Contagion Chronicle

VtR Spilled Blood – Hiring artists.

M20 Book of the Fallen

Dark Eras 2 – Getting the rest contracted out.

CoM – Witch Queen of the Shadowed Citadel

Pirates of Pugmire – KS art contracted, sketches and finals coming in.

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant – KS art started contracting.

Marketing Stuff

In Layout

Dystopia Rising: Evolution – With Josh.

Shunned By the Moon

Scion Jumpstart

C20 Novel: Cup of Dreams

Proofing

The Realm

Book of Oblivion – Inputting last corrections.

Signs of Sorcery – Dev comments back to layout.

Trinity Core and Aeon Screens – Prepping for printing.

Aeon Aexpansion

At Press

Scion Hero – Shipping to backers, PoD version processing.

Scion Origin – Shipping to backers, PoD version processing.

Scion Dice – Shipping to backers.

Scion Screen – Shipping to backers.

Fetch Quest – Waiting for PoD proofs.

In Media Res – PDF out to backers, gathering errata with new sheet.

Geist 2e – PDF out to backers, gathering errata with new sheet.

Scarred Lands Spell Cards – Waiting forPoD proofs.

Adventures for Curious Cats – Errata.

Tales of Excellent Cats – Errata.

Dragon-Blooded – Deluxe at printer.

Dragon-Blooded Screen – At printer.

C20 Player’s Guide – Advance PDF on sale this Wednesday!

TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: 

On this day in 1429 – Joan of Arc arrives to relieve the Siege of Orléans. (And then she got screwed over. I’ll leave the message you may derive from that to you.)

[au-universes]

Basement Demon

Hey there everyone! It’s ya gurl Father Par Par! Luci suggested I post this short story of mine, so here I am! It has swearing, mentions of non-con experiments, and recreational drug use, so if you’re not into that, don’t read it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Penny rolled over in bed and opened Snapchat on her phone. It was ten in the morning and she already had four snapchats. Three were from her friends and one was from her mom, sent at midnight. She opened that one last. It was a long series of videos of the cats. Penny missed her cats dearly since she’s been living in Detroit, and she loved getting pictures of them.

               But these videos were strange. The first one was a video of her black cat, Soske, sitting in front of the basement door on his hind legs, pawing at something in front of him. His eyes looked glazed over and his behavior was unlike anything Penny had ever seen. The caption said “Cats are acting weird.”

               The next video was of Penny’s white cat, Keko, who was stalking something by the basement door. With a quick pan, the video showed that the basement door was open but there was nothing there. Keko continued to stalk but then she stopped and her eyes lost focus and she stood up to do the same thing Soske did in the last video. The next video made Penny sit straight up in bed and her heart skip a beat. Soske was standing on his back legs again and he was pawing at the air and then he collapsed and started shaking on the floor. Penny’s dad came into the video and scooped him up. The next video was of Soske in her dad’s arms, shaking and curled up close to him. The next snapchat from Penny’s mom was a picture of the cats sleeping on the living room couch. The caption said, “Cats are fine, that was weird…”

               It certainly was weird… But Penny didn’t have time to dwell on it because she heard her brother come into the apartment and throw his keys.

               “Penny! Mike’s waiting for us outside,” Adrian shouted. Mike was their other roommate, one of Adrian’s friends from high school.

               “Where are we going?” Penny shouted back as she hurried to get dressed.

               “There’s a garage sale a few blocks away,” he said.

               “Okay, I’m ready,” Penny stuffed her phone in her pocket and pulled her hair into a quick ponytail as she ran out into the apartment. She followed her brother outside and hopped into Mike’s van, which was waiting outside the building.

               “Ready to go?” asked Mike.

               “Yep,” said Penny, buckling her seatbelt, not trusting Mike’s driving skills. They drove a few blocks down into the neighborhood with the old houses mixed with the newer houses. It was a pretty normal looking neighborhood, mostly filled with elderly people and college students. There were a few younger families in the newer houses. It looked like this weekend was the sub sale, since there were many garage sales scattered throughout the neighborhood. They drove past the ones that looked like a bunch of junk or the ones with all baby stuff. They stopped at one that looked big and had lots of interesting things out on the driveway.

               Penny hopped out of the van and ran to the interesting looking desk sitting out. She opened all the drawers and cupboards before moving onto the vintage Singer sewing machine next to it. The boys went into the garage and looked through the books and movies. Penny joined them but something caught her eye before she got the chance to browse the books. An old fashioned radio with a cassette player in the front was sitting on the electronics table next to a box full of cassette tapes.

               “Does this work?” Penny asked the person sitting in a lawn chair just outside the garage.

               “Yep, still works,” the woman said. “Just needs new batteries if you plan on using it. I used to carry that thing around back in the eighties.”

               “Whoa…how much?” asked Penny, already searching through the tapes.

               “You can have it for ten bucks,” she said.

               “How about five?”

               “Seven.”

               “Deal.”

               Penny walked away from that garage sale carrying the radio and three tapes; the Best of the Bee Gees, Hall and Oates, and a blank tape without a case, smudged writing on the sticker.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

               “Everyone listen up!” Anabel shouted, trying to get her team’s attention. She slammed her hands on the table for good measure. Her four teammates slowly quieted down and looked at her. They were sitting around the meeting table in their underground headquarters. The headquarters was small, but big enough for five bedrooms, two bathrooms, an armory, and a conjoined kitchen and meeting room. The five of them have been working on it since they were kids.

               “We have a mission,” Anabel said. “A house in the Chesterfield suburbs has a demon living in their basement. The homeowners don’t know yet, and I’d like to keep it that way. But the problem is, they have cats.”

               “Why is that a problem?” asked Jason.

               “There are two beings that are most susceptible to being possessed by a demon,” Ava said, folding her hands on the table and glancing at Eli who sat across from her. “Cats and Androids.”

               Eli stiffened. He had a feeling he knew what the plan was going to be and he didn’t like it.

               “Why is that, do we know?” asked Luke. His glowing blue eyes met Eli’s nervous yellow ones. Luke was born blind but he wore special contacts that allowed him to see. They were almost completely discreet except for the fact that they glowed icy blue. He often wore sunglasses out in public so that the blue glow wouldn’t draw attention, just as Eli wore sunglasses in public to cover his yellow eyes.  

               “We’re not sure yet, but we believe that it’s because demons can’t possess a human without permission. But androids aren’t in their code of honor, so they’re free real estate according to demons,” said Anabel.

               “That’s stupid,” said Jason. “Androids are people too. Just because they don’t have a soul or whatever, no offense Eli, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have the same rights.”

               “If I may,” Eli interrupted. “I believe it is simply because we have easily changeable programming. For instance, I have programs that protect me from viruses and hackers, which could change my programming, but a demon isn’t either of those things. To them, I am basically an empty, semi organic body that is, as Anabel said, free real estate.”

               “And why cats?” asked Luke.

               Anabel shrugged. “No one knows.”

               Jason clapped his hands, making everyone startle. “Welp! I’m ready for whatever happens on this mission. Let’s go capture a demon!”

               And that was that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Penny, Adrien and Mike were laying on the roof of the van, which was parked next to a corn field. They passed a blunt between them as the last few notes of the Hall and Oates tape played out on the radio, which sat next to Penny on the roof. Penny replaced it with the mysterious tape with the smudged writing.

               “Anything could be on here guys,” said Penny as she rewound it and prepared to play it.

               “I’m ready for anything,” Mike said, his voice sounding congested and slightly muffled as he held in the smoke. Penny pressed play and took the joint Mike handed her, white smoke curling from his mouth. There was no music that started up. Instead, there was just the sound of distant voices and other movement.

               “Alright Dr. Darling, now I have a few questions to ask you,” said the crackling voice of a man over the sound of rustling paper. “You conducted illegal experiments on your assistant involving demon possession, did you not?”

               Penny looked at Mike and Adrien with wide eyes. They looked back at her with equally surprised expressions.

               “Yes,” said a different man.

               “And your assistant is an android, correct?”

               “Yes.”

               “Are you aware of the trial that took place last year confirming the citizenship and personhood of androids?”

               “Yes.”

               “So you knew that these experiments were unethical in nature and punishable by law.”

               “Yes.”

               “Did you create your assistant?”

               “Yes, I created Ben.”

               “It says in your file that all of your research up until Ben has been about demons. Is it possible that you created your assistant to help you specifically in these types of experiments?”

               “Yes, that was my intention.”

               “That is nonconsensual and violates many-“

               “Detective, sorry to interrupt, but Ben is programmed to not have any emotions. Consent does not matter to him, he is simply programmed to do as I say. What about all the cats I’ve used before Ben? They are not able to consent, so is that considered unethical as well?”

               “Yes, doctor, that is exactly what that means. If a person or animal is unable to consent, then it is unethical to conduct experiments on them regardless. Do you understand why you are being detained for the things you’ve done.”

               “Yes.”

               “And do you admit that your experiments were unethical and unprofessional?”

               “Yes.”

               The tape ended there and there was nothing but staticy silence.

               “What the fuck?” Adrien mumbled.

               “You found that at the garage sale?” asked Mike. Penny stared at the sky, still thinking about what she had just heard.

               “Uh-huh.”

               Just then, Penny thought of the Snapchats she received that morning from her mom. The detective on the tape mentioned Dr. Darling using cats in his experiments. What if her cats were being possessed by a demon? Or a demon was trying to possess them? She sat up with new energy, feeling the need to go back to her parent’s house to check on her cats.

               “Mike, take me back to the apartment building. I need to drive home.”

               The boys followed Penny off the roof of the car.

               “Why?”

               “I need to save my cats.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               “I’m the bait, aren’t I?” asked Eli, cocking his head to the side slightly.

               “I mean, we didn’t want to come right out and say it…” Jason said. “We didn’t want you to panic or anything.”

               “We didn’t want to hurt your feelings by putting you out there like that,” said Luke.

               Ava chuckled and shook her head.

               “You both know that I have no feelings to hurt,” Eli said. “I do not mind. I’m willing to be of assistance in any way I can.”

               “That’s the spirit!” Jason shouted. The four of them were driving to Chesterfield, preparing to attend a big party at the house they were targeting.

               “Let’s go over the plan once more,” said Ava, still giggling. “We are going to attend this party and act like the other party goers. So just act like normal, like you’re regular people attending a party. Eli will hopefully draw the demon out and then we can capture it. The goal is to be discreet and quick. We need to get out of there as fast as possible.”

               “Won’t this be kind of unsafe with all those people there?” Luke asked.

               “I don’t think we need to worry about that,” said Ava. “Besides, most demons aren’t visible to the human eye, so we’ll just keep an eye on Eli and wait for the signs.”

               As they entered the neighborhood, they could see the party from all the way down the block. Cars lined the street on both sides and people streamed into the house they were looking for. The party already looked like it was hoppin’ and it was only seven o’clock. Jason navigated through the street and found a spot to park. Eli and Luke put on their sunglasses before they got out of the car. As they walked to the house, Luke nudged Eli and tapped his sunglasses.

               “Twinsies,” he grinned. Eli just started at him. Luke cleared his throat and looked forward. When they entered the house, they saw that the party was mainly going on in the basement. The stairs going down to the basement were converted into a train ride. There was a track that looped around at the top where people piled into the cars and then the conductor, a middle aged man in a stripped conductors outfit, used the controls to make the train slowly go back down the other side of the tracks.

               There was a long line of partiers waiting to go downstairs and the four demon hunters got in line. They stood behind three giggling women who wore short dresses and a bunch of leis and beads around their necks. They were clearly drunk. The three women shared a car on the train, the conductor having to help them on. The four hunters got into a car behind them, squeezing in tight, not wanting to get separated by these drunk party goers.

               As they disembarked the train at the bottom, Eli tried his hardest to focus and keep his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. The drunk women were still nearby. Eli’s concentration was broken as someone shoved past him and smacked one of the girl’s butts. She shrieked and turned around, her drink spilling on the guy and her friends laughing hysterically. Eli turned away from the scene and tried to find his friends. They had already disappeared into the thick crowd.

               As Eli wandered the party looking for his friends, he noticed three things. First, the basement, before it was wrecked by the mess of a rager such as this, was a very nice basement. It was huge and nicely finished. There was an entertainment center and pool table off to one side, a sitting room, a spacious floor, old arcade games lining the back wall and a full bar on the other side.

               Second, the people here weren’t particularly drunk and awful. It was simply the fact that there were so many of them and most of them seemed to be inebriated in some way. Not to mention the empty cans and bottles all over the floor and the raggedy streamers hanging over almost everything.

               And thirdly, Eli realized that he was becoming paranoid and anxious. He didn’t realize that he was capable of experiencing such things, but the way his hands were shaking and the fact that he jumped every time he saw a flash of red told him otherwise. More than once, he thought he saw someone staring at him through the crowd wearing a red demon mask. But when he looked, they would disappear. It was putting him on edge. So it wasn’t a surprise that he jumped and spun around when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

               “Whoa, it’s only me,” said Luke. “You okay?”

               “Of course.”

               “I’m glad I found you,” said Luke. “I can’t find Jason and Ava.”

               “I think this crowd is affecting my ability to focus,” said Eli. He saw Luke glance down at his hands, so he shoved them into his pockets to keep them from shaking.

               “Okay, we’re almost done here. We’ll get out of here as soon as possible. Do you want to leave? I’m pretty sure we’d be able to handle ourselves without you,” said Luke, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

               “No, I am fine. I don’t see how leaving would make any difference. Let’s find Jason and Ava,” said Eli.

               The pair pushed through the crowd trying to locate their friends. They spotted them over by the bar, where they were talking to a shirtless guy who was sloshing his drink all over the place. He wore a lei and sunglasses that were sliding off his face. Eli watched as the guy reached over and touched Ava’s hair. She gently pushed his hand away and shook her head. Luke and Eli approached and Ava’s face lit up.

               “There you are! We were so worried about you!” she said.

               “Hey! There you are! You two wandered off without us!” said Jason. “Having fun just the two of you I see.”

               “Jason, please focus,” said Ava. She smiled at the man who was still leaning on the bar, trying to get closer to her. The man looked at the two newcomers and lit up.

               “Hey! Twinsies!” he reached out and touched the lenses of Luke’s sunglasses, making him flinch and recoil. The man’s fingers left a grease streak on the lens.

               “I’m sorry for cutting this short but this has been a very unpleasant conversation and we’re leaving now,” said Ava.

               The boys followed Ava as she left the bar and walked to the back where the arcade games provided a bright glow.

               “Avaaa, first kill of the night, huh?” said Jason. Ava smiled and rolled her eyes.

               “Please, that guy was asking for it,” she said. She looked over to Luke and Eli. Luke had taken off his glasses to wipe the lens with his shirt. “Any luck finding anything you two?”

               “No luck,” said Luke, putting his shades back on.

               “I did see something…” Eli said, pausing to figure out how to say this. “At least, I think I saw something. On many occasions, I thought I saw a man staring at me through the crowd. He was wearing a red demon mask but every time I looked for him, he would disappear. Perhaps I’m having some sort of malfunction.”

               “You aren’t,” said Jason, staring at something over his shoulder. Eli turned around to follow his friend’s gaze and saw the man in the mask. He stood ominously still as the throng of partygoers flowed around him. Someone passed in front of him and then he was gone. Further into the crowd, somewhere the four hunters couldn’t see, a scream erupted, followed by more screams and a rush of people.

               “Now’s our chance!” said Luke. The four of them pushed through the crowd, which was becoming thicker as everyone ran to the train. The conductor was evacuating people. Four or five people were piling into each car and the little train was having trouble staying on the tracks.

               Eli looked away for one second and he lost track of his friends. They must have been swept away by the crowd. Eli had to try his hardest to not be swept away himself as he pushed his way to where the scream came from.

               Luke, Ava and Jason found themselves at the top of the stairs, the thick crowd of people pushing them back.

               “Eli is still down there!” said Jason.

               “Let us back down our friend is down there!” Ava said, trying to get past the conductor. But the man wouldn’t let them pass. He pushed them away and held the controller out of reach.

               “No one goes down there! It ain’t safe!” he shouted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Penny passed the cars that lined her street and parked in her driveway. The lights were on inside and she could hear quite the commotion. It didn’t sound like a party, it sounded like chaos. She pushed through her front door and immediately searched for her cats. She found them in her parent’s room, hiding from the crowds of people. They looked fine so Penny hugged both of them then went out to find the demon. She figured it would be in the basement. The only problem was that people were pouring out of the basement and there seemed to be a bit of a scuffle at the top of the stairs. Penny pushed her way through and got to the top of the train. The conductor was pushing three people out of the way who seemed to be trying to get back on the train.

               “Let me down there! I need to kill the demon that tried to hurt my cats!” she told the conductor.

               “No one goes down there!” said the conductor. He shoved Penny back. “Everyone has been evacuated and it’s not safe to go down there.”

               “This is my house! Let me down there!” Penny yelled, trying to force her way past him to grab the controller. He shoved her back and she stumbled, falling backwards into the crowd. How dare he put his hands on me, she thought. Whoever caught her when she fell back, pushed her back up. She used that momentum to surge forward and punch the conductor in the face. The crowd Oooh-ed. Penny used the opportunity to snatch the controller from the conductors hand and hop into the train. She drove the train down the tracks and into the basement. The basement was eerily quiet. There was no more music and it was dark save for the flashing party lights and the glow from the arcade games.

               Penny dropped the controller into the train car she was in and got out. She heard a scuffle coming from the entertainment center. She ran to where she heard the noise and saw two people. One was a man with pale skin and dark hair. He was on the ground, a pair of broken sunglasses on the ground beside him. Standing over him was another man. This one was tall and wore all black except for the red demon mask covering his face. There was an aura about him that sent chills of panic down Penny’s spine. She ignored it and stepped forward.

               “Hey!” she shouted, causing both men to look at her. The man on the ground had yellow eyes, telling Penny that he was an android. The demon only had two black voids where his eyes should have been behind the mask. “Get away from him, it’s me you want!”

               “And who are you?” a disembodied voice said. It sounded suspiciously smooth and normal.

               “I’m Penny, and you tried to possess my cats,” she said. “No one messes with my cats!”

               “Is that so?” the demon stepped over the man on the ground and approached Penny. Penny felt a jolt of uncertainty run through her, but then she thought of her cats and the disturbing Snapchats from that morning. She stood her ground, glaring at the demon, not having a plan in case she was overpowered, which was more likely than not.

               The demon walked right up to her and crowded into her space. Penny could faintly see eyes through the holes in the mask but otherwise, there was no sign of him being a human. No breath, no footsteps, he was silent. Penny clenched her fists and decided to do what she had just done with the conductor at the top of the stairs. She punched the demon in the face with all her might.  

               Penny gasped as she heard her hand crack against the demon’s unmoving face. Pain shot up through her arm. The demon grabbed her shoulders and brought his face closer, tilting his head as if he were going in for a kiss. Penny knew that a kiss from him would mean bad things.

               Before he could get any closer, something sounding like glass shattered over his head. His head turned all the way around. Behind the demon stood the android, the broken neck of a wine bottle in his hands. The android dropped the bottle neck and grabbed the demon’s face with both hands. In one swift motion, he pulled the demon off of Penny and flung him across the room. The demon hit the wall across the room and slid down to the ground.

               “Are you alright?” the android asked, approaching Penny who was staring wide eyed at the demon who was slowly getting back up.

               “Yes. Let’s kill this thing,” Penny growled, quickly getting over her shock.

               “Agreed. I am Eli,” he said.

               “Penny. How do you kill a demon?” she asked.

               “We need to trap it and then banish it,” said Eli. “They are immortal beings, they cannot be killed.”

               “Right. Is banishing it a permanent solution?”

               “Yes.”

               “Let’s do it.”

               Penny and Eli stalked around both side of the demon. The demon’s head snapped between the two of them before settling on Eli. He lunged and tackled Eli to the ground. Eli struggled under him and the demon began his descent. Penny took the opportunity to run at the demon and kick it in the face with all her strength. He stumbled back, falling off of Eli. Eli jumped to his feet and grabbed the demon by the collar. He slammed the creature against the wall, leaving a dent.

               “Penny, make a circle on the floor!” he said. Penny scrambled to find something to make a circle with. Then she saw the streamers hanging over everything. As she began gathering streamers, the demon kicked Eli square in the chest, making him fly back and crash through the wall into the bathroom. Eli pushed the pieces of ceramic from the destroyed toilet off of him and charged through the hole in the wall. He tried to get a hold on the demon as Penny laid the streamers on the ground in a circle.

               “I’m ready!” said Penny.

               “Help me get him into the circle!” Eli said, struggling with the demon. Penny ran to the scuffle and kicked the demon in the groin. It didn’t seem to have the effect she was hoping for but he still doubled over, giving the two of them the advantage. But as Eli tried to grapple him, he pushed the android out of the way and grabbed Penny around the neck with both hands, lifting her off the ground.

               “Enough is enough! I will not be defeated by a little girl and her bag of gears!” the disembodied voice filled the basement. Penny struggled to gasp for breath and claw at his hands around her neck. Her feet kicked and she could feel her windpipe being crushed. A wire wrapped around the demon’s throat. Eli, who was holding the wire, pulled the demon back, making him stumble into the circle, where Eli yanked the demon to the ground, making him release his hold on Penny. Penny fell to the ground and pushed herself away from the monster.

               Before the demon could do anything else, Eli lit a match and flicked it into the circle of streamers. The circle and the demon burst into flames. The demon seemed to sink into the ground, screaming and writhing. But the fire kept going.

               “We need to go,” said Eli, pulling Penny to her feet and leading her to the train.

               “We need to put that fire out!” said Penny.

               “It’s hellfire, water won’t do anything. It will go out on its own, it won’t destroy anything. But we need to leave before it consumes us,” said Eli. The two of them ran to the train and they got into one of the cars. Penny fiddled with the controller but the train wouldn’t move.

               “What’s wrong with it?” Penny yelled, feeling the heat from the fire get more intense.

               “It’s steam powered. It’s out of water,” said Eli. “It looks like water can just be dumped into the engine up there.”

               “The fish tank!” Penny shouted, pointing to the glowing fish tank across the room. “If we can get to it…”

               “There are no life forms in there, right?”

               “No. We haven’t had fish in there in years.”

               Eli took off across the room, running past the flames which seemed to reach for him. He lifted the tank and hurried back to the train, the water sloshing out of the top. He got to the train and Penny tried to help him dump it over the engine. Steam poured out of the train engine and the machinery inside hissed and rumbled to life. Eli jumped into the car with Penny and they rode to the top of the stairs. The crowd of party goers cheered when they saw the train crest the stairs. Penny and Eli hopped out of the train car. Eli was immediately enclosed in a hug from three people at the front of the crowd. They fussed over him as the conductor angrily took the controller from Penny. She let him have it.

               “Eli,” she called. Eli and his three friends looked at her. “Thanks for helping me down there. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

               “And I would not have survived if you hadn’t stepped in,” said Eli. The woman next to him with dark curls cascading down her back wrote something down on a slip of paper and handed it to Penny. It was a phone number.

               “Keep in touch with us, will you?” she said. “My name is Ava. Thank you for helping my friend.”

               “Anytime Ava,” said Penny. “I have a feeling you four weren’t here for the party.”

               “Call me and I’ll explain everything,” she said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Penny wandered down to her basement the next morning, her hand wrapped tightly. The party had dispersed long ago. Everyone left shortly after they defeated the demon. That night, after everyone left, Penny had called Ava and she explained that her and her friends were part of a demon hunting club. They were still learning their trade, but they could use someone as spunky as Penny. She told Ava she would think about it.

               The thought of defending cats everywhere appealed to her. She knew she would call back.

               Penny passed the burned spot in the carpet and looked past it to see the big hole in the wall and the destroyed bathroom within. She wandered to the bar and kitchenette. There were streamers and empty cans and pizza boxes everywhere. A garbage bag overflowing with paper plates and solo cups sat against the cupboard. Dishes filled the sink.

               But most importantly, her cats joined her downstairs, finally feeling safe from the demon that had lived down there. She hugged her cats, knowing that she not only avenged their honor, she also potentially saved their very lives. She then thought of all the other cats who were susceptible to being possessed by demons.

               She would definitely call Ava back.

               As she continued to ruminate over this, a flash of red flew past behind her…

[gutterdreams]

Too Cool [R.M.]

Reggie Mantle request.

Hair still wet and dripping down his neck, Reggie was changing back into the clothes he had worn all day prior to the game. It was hard for him to do menial tasks after a big win, he wanted to run around, shout, and celebrate with his team until his body literally couldn’t take any more and shut down. As he wiggled into his dark, almost black jeans, he nodded for Moose’s attention beside him , the defense player still only in his boxers. “Hey, what are you and Midge doing tomorrow?” It was Saturday and Midge could not be contained. Reggie knew they would want some activity to do even if it was low key. 

“I don’t know. She wants to go to the woods or something.” Moose could not have sounded less interested if he tried. 

“Cool.” Reggie agreed with a small dip of his chin. He would never try to block one of his guys from hooking up. “Well if before you want to come, [Y/N] is having a photography show thing.” He mentioned while pulling a white undershirt over his head, the fabric clinging to his chest instantly. He took Moose’s silence as a need for more information. “It’s supposed to be chill. Just like music, coffee, some of her stuff on one wall and some other girl’s stuff on the other.” If you asked, Reggie would say he listened to the details you have him about your upcoming art show, but usually he was just watching your mouth move and wishing it was on his cock.

“Sounds…” Moose sighed before finding the right word. “Pretty lame.” He chuckled lightly after and shook his head. “I’ll mention it to Midge.” While it wasn’t his typical scene, Moose figured Midge would enjoy it. She sometimes complained he didn’t take her out on dates and this might score him a single point in her good books.

Coming up behind him, Chuck Clayton towel whipped Reggie right above the waist band of his boxer briefs. Even though the towel made a crisp sound as it hit the air and then bit Reggie’s skin, Chuck added in his own whip noise over top.

“Fuck off.” Like a reflex, Reg hissed at his temperamental friend. 

“You and Moose have a cute art date. Precious.” Chuck laughed and bent the folded white towel behind his neck. He never grew tired of bugging his teammates. It always made him good, no matter how unfair or mean. “It’s not…” Reggie began to argue and then shook his head at himself. “[Y/N] is doing a show for her photos. You should come.” He really wanted you to have a huge turn out, knowing from experience how good it felt to be supported. You were at every one of his games. “I’d rather cut my dick off with a butter knife.” Dramatically, Chuck replied and then laughed with the teammate closest to his own locker. “Too bad you’re whipped and have to go. Are you going to wear a beret and turtleneck too, Mantle?” Chuck howled as he fished his clothes out of his open locker. Reggie was burning inside, but he really started to feel the flare of internal flames when Moose joined in with the lemming laughter. “Fuck you guys.” Reg slammed his locker and aggressively grabbed his gym bag from the floor, tossing it over his shoulder and starting to leave. “Least I get pussy.” He snarled at Chuck and left, the joy from his football victory momentarily stolen. Reggie dragged his feet out of the school, his head preoccupied with frustration over being embarrassed in front of his buddies. He didn’t have the emotional maturity to take it. It cast a heavy shadow over his otherwise fine mood. “Hey champ!” You ran away from the front of his car that you were leaning up against, waiting since the game ended and running over to him before he was off the final step of Riverdale High.  "You played flawlessly.“ Grinning from ear to ear, you complimented him honestly while hugging his neck. His hands were slow to rest on your neck. They stayed outside the denim of your jacket instead of beneath and right above your butt dimples as usual. "You okay?” Cautiously, you pulled away. Usually after a huge win, Reggie was flying with happiness that couldn’t be compressed. He was almost obnoxious usually and driving others crazy with his loud recollection of the games and pumping his fists into the air. Pop’s almost always had to tell him to keep his voice down and he was the only person that could. “All good.” Painting on a thin smile, Reggie lied to you and kissed at your freshly glossed lips. It was his favorite flavor too. “Just hungry.” He led you over to the car with one hand on your back, trying to think of cheeseburgers instead of what Chuck said in the locker room. Reggie really didn’t want people thinking he was whipped. He suddenly felt angry at himself for looking forward to your show before.   The drive from school to Pop’s was just a brief ride, but it usually felt even shorter with Reggie babbling a mile a minute about the game. It didn’t help that there was no other team mates in the backseat egging him on. Since he wasn’t saying anything, you took it upon yourself to fill the strange air. “Did you want to come and help me set up tomorrow? I’m going to go about noon and hang pictures, set up a playlist with the other photographer.” She was a girl from the Southside, Toni Topaz, but you two only knew one another from following each other on Instagram. Her stuff was a lot moodier than yours. The fifteen photos you had chosen of your stuff all played with movement as you had been going through a phase where you loved playing with overexposure. Reggie knelt his head against one shoulder while sharply taking a corner. He was fully eating his bottom lip, trying to think of an answer. His demeanor towards your photography show had completely changed. “Or you can just come after. It’s all good. My sister is working the door.” You knew better than to ask Reggie to sit still for any reason at all. “I don’t know.” He shrugged and stared at the road stretched out before him. “Do you really care if I’m there?” For a second, your mind was blank. You were convinced you didn’t actually hear him. Wide as they were surprised, you stared at him and waited for him to repeat himself. “Yes.” You jumped into the silence quickly. “I really want you there.” It felt redundant to remind him that he was your boyfriend. Of course, you wanted to share this event with him. “You were the one who encouraged me to do it.” It had been Toni’s idea after all, but you had been initially bashful about the idea. You and Reggie worked well due to the fact that you never craved being the center of attention and he adored the spotlight. “Yeah, but like…it’s not my scene, you know?” Again, you stared at him as if you two were speaking separate languages all of the sudden. Mentally, you had to tell yourself to stay calm and keep composure. “Football isn’t my favorite sport, but I go to all your games.” You hoped that somehow the comparison would make him understand. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you two were having this conversation. “I buy bake sale stuff to support the Bulldogs, I drive Vixens to away games when you ask…” “You don’t have to.” Waiting at a stop sign for a moment, Reggie pointed out what you already knew. “Of course I don’t, but that’s what you do for your partner! You should want to come tomorrow. I shouldn’t have to ask you!” Hands up in front of you, you loudly explained. Sometimes, you found yourself among your friends explaining that Reg wasn’t a total dickhead, but right now, you felt like they were right. He was just an asshole who couldn’t see outside of himself. “You’re my freaking boyfriend.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you grumbled and took your attention away from him. Instead, you stared out the window at different shop fronts, too in your head to look at anything. “I’ll stop by, okay?” Gently, since he felt too shitty to speak up, Reggie threw you a bone. A last ditch effort to make everyone happy. “Just take me home.” His sour mood had influenced you and you squirmed under your crossed arms. “What?” He wasn’t used to you not celebrating with him. In fact, you were there win or lose.   “Take me home. I don’t want to go to Pop’s.” “Are you actually mad?” For the second time during the car ride, Reggie asked a stupid question. The light of Pop’s was shining down on both of you, but you didn’t care. If he took you to the diner, you would just walk away. You didn’t answer though. Sighing deeply, you just deflated in the passanger seat. From the side of your face, you could feel his bottomless eyes staring and waiting for a response. “Fine.” He sighed back and pulled a U-turn right in the middle of the street, heading the direction you came from in order to drop you off at home. The ride was silent until he pulled up in front of the bungalow you lived with your mom and older sister when she was home from college on holidays. Still angry, you shoved the door beside you open. Reggie turned down the radio and patted his lips to speak, but nothing came out before you slammed your door and headed inside. You had half a mind to text him what a selfish prick you thought he was, but instead you decided to make your point by saying nothing to him - not even answering when he texted you ’goodnite. missed you tonight.’ at one in the morning. Like a cinder block, your nerves had settled into the center of your stomach for the night. Besides their taunting, you felt good in the violet sweater dress you had bought special for the night. It would have been nice to have Reggie there and it didn’t help that the playlist had all his favorite songs on it to add insult to injury. Much to your surprise, people were buying your prints. You knew people would like Toni’s work because you were a big fan of her eye, but you had hoped privately that, maybe, one or two people would want one of your photos. This was your first shows and you were putting a great deal of weight on it. You had never considered being a photographer professionally before, but this evening was changing your mind. Maybe more than just your mom thought you had talent. “You’ve made one hundred and fifty bucks in an hour. How can you look so sad?” Giving you a small fright as he came up behind you, Jughead’s asked before sipping his black coffee. He had come to help Toni set up and wound up hanging a few of your larger shots. “I just really thought Reg would show.” He hadny even set you a text wishing you well and you had convinced yourself he would. “Well…” Jughead considered sugar coating the truth, but that wasn’t really his style. “Reg is kind of self centered.” He pat your back with his free hand and shrugged. “Do you really think he would get it anyway?” He asked nodding to the wall of your images. Truthfully, you thought Reggie would understand it. He wasn’t as one dimensional as people chalked him up be. Sure, he fell asleep during every documentary you put on, but he generally always seemed interested when you were putting it on. He had opinions on the subjects at town hall meetings, he had a soft spot for the fact that your home was without any testosterone (always offering to help fix things around the house and pick up your sister from the bus station), and he cared. When his friends were upset, he didn’t just wait for them to move on. He cared and checked in. “You know what…” Turning your attention to Jughead, you frowned your face together with your mind made up. “This is my night. I’m not going to think about him anymore.” Proudly you announced. “I’m going to go get a drink.” Walking by Jug who was grinning with approval of your plan, you headed to the small barista bar in the back and waited to order a green tea latte. Accepting walk-by compliments on your work as you waited, you smiled to yourself and graciously took note of the people who had come to support you. Even your aunt who hated leaving her house showed up. It almost burned that others were there and Reggie felt he was above it all. Drink in hand, you turned and waved to Veronica who was standing in front of your work. It wasn’t until she turned to walk away and over to Toni’s wall that you saw Reggie. He had come and the cinder block in your gut eroded away to ash at the sight of him, hand around a plastic water bottle and squinting at your photos. You forgot all about what you said to Jughead and headed directly for your boyfriend. “Excuse me, sir, are you lost?” Very serious in your joke, you approached him from the sidr and sipped your drink as he turned to you with a shameful pout. “Very funny.” He answered unamused. Reggie was pissed when he checked Snapchat and saw that Chuck, who gave him so much shit about attending your show, was there. He took a selfie of him inside with a girl under each his arms, stupid smirk on his face. It was enough to make Reggie feel stupid all over again. He had pissed you off to impress some hypocritical jerk. With his tail between his legs, he drove over to the cage that was hosting your show. “How’s it going?” He asked in place of apologizing. “Good.” Proudly, you told him without missing a beat. You didn’t need him to be successful and it felt great. “I’ve sold a bunch of prints and people like my stuff.” “This one is my favorite.” He moved closer to the wall and pointed at  a shot you had taken in the woods, high tops of trees just a blur as the sun poured through and highlighted a family of Blue Jays passing through. “You were there when I took it.” Nodding, you mumbled. He had taken you out there to live out a fantasy of having sex in public, settling for just aggressively making out with one another on a checkered blanket that he kept in the trunk of his car. “Does that mean I’m supportive?” Reggie fished with a hopeful smile that he removed just as quickly as he put it on. “You can be.” Shrugging, you led him through the room to your personal favorite picture. It was taken through the rear view mirror of his car, Pop’s glowing in the reflection. “I don’t know why you were weird about coming. It’s just photos. I’m not doing a naked performance art piece.” Come to think of it, Reggie would have definitely showed up if you were naked. “I don’t know.” He didn’t want to admit to you that he let the guys get under his skin. “I just didn’t think I’d get it, I guess.” “That’s stupid.” You dismissed his excuse. “I don’t understand the rules of football and I always come to your games.” “You’re right.” It wasn’t easy for him to admit and you knew that. “That’s why I’m here now.” “I appreciate it.” Putting away your claws, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. He was trying and that meant something to you. “I really wanted to share tonight with you.” Tight together he pressed his lips into a smile and settled his hand on the small of your back, following you as you led him through to Toni’s room where Archie and Veronica were standing with drinks, Veronica dancing gently to the song that was pouring through the speakers. “You look so fucking hot in this dress.” He whispered in your ear, leaning back to take a harder look at your backside. “At what point, can we go and I can take it off you?” “You just got here.” Laughing, you playfully swatted at his chest. “You’re not totally forgiven yet.” “I’ll get back in your good graces.” He winked and went back to admiring how good you looked. It was the real masterpiece he thought.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Polo

ok so, lexa is a polo player and clarke is one of those fancy girls who watch the game and clarke develops a crush on lexa when she sees her playing and then stuff happen (my idea finish there sorry ) but anyways thanks for your amazing fics i love you they make me happy

The drinks flowed for hours before the game even started. While the field occupied a large section of the estate, the tents and tables and mingling crowds of people in expensive dresses and hats swarmed around it all around the pitch. It was a sunny day with a handful of the magnificent, fluffy white clouds that took their time to get across the sky.

From her table, Clarke listened to the people around her talking and found herself utterly bored by the entirety of it. Not one thing was interesting to her. Not her mother droning on about some wedding a few weeks ago. Not her father talking business with a partner. Not her friends talking about their plans for the following day.

The sun sizzled and sang that summer song while the heat weighed down the day, and Clarke excused herself for a bit of air as the game started.

It was necessary for her, sometimes; to disappear from it all. These types of events were rarities, ones that she endured only long enough to make her father happy so that he didn’t cut her off. He was already more okay with her majoring in art history than her mother, and she liked spending time with him most of the time. He could appease him from time to time. He did pay for her school and bills and anything else she wanted. This was the trade, though deep down, she wagered he would never even hold it over her. She went so he didn’t have to ask.

On the pitch, the horses thundered by as she made her way toward the edge, watching the riders as they wove and nudged and raced around. Clarke paused there and sipped her drink, eager to take off her heels already.

Her parent’s divorce had been everywhere in the past two years. And that was hard enough. But what no one understood was just how difficult it was to see them sitting near each other at a table and hating each other from a distance. It was exhausting. Her world had been turned upside down, it shattered her worldview, and still, they pretended, sat there and avoided each other except for that show of friendship for the people to marvel at and appreciate their maturity. But their daughter knew the truth, and so she stood on the edge of the pitch and held her breath, hoping someone would score so she could scream.

But no one did, and she returned to the table to the quiet battle that remained and felt herself going absolutely insane, and the day had just begun.

It wasn’t that game wasn’t fun. It was always fun, always felt like a drug, with pure adrenaline and a high that didn’t last long enough and left her chasing the next one eagerly. Games were always enjoyable. Games of a certain caliber were damn near close to sex, in her own opinion.

But this game.

This game was not a game of true importance. It was a dull high. A weak release that had moments, but wasn’t enough of a challenge. It was a vanity game for the person who paid her. It was an exhibition in which the team owner participated to feel like their money was well spent. And Lexa found herself to be a dancing clown for more coppers.

“Well done,” she cheered as she passed off an easy goal for herself in favor of an assist.

The owner bought her a new pony. The owner let her travel and play and train and live, and for that, she sold her soul, played in pointless games where people sipped drinks and didn’t watch, and she gave away points to make sure he gave her spending money.

“Great block, great pass,” Kane circled back around after the whistle.

Three nodded politely and lined back up for the next round.

It was a normal game, the regular game that was routine. And before it, she showed off horses and charmed investors. After the game, she would shower and mingle after taking the time to check on her ponies. And she would be just as bored as she was in this very game. But she would have more money hopefully, and she would get to play in a cup next month. And this was how she sold more and more of her soul.

Thoughtlessly, or at least primarily very distracted, she went through the motions and was still better than everyone else on the field, even the other two or three players who were also at half-effort and selling their souls.

She sprinted down and tried to bump someone after the ball before a movement caught her eye and she jerked hard on the reins, losing part of the play. A stock of blonde bounced along the sideline, half cutting across the field on Lexa’s side having made it most of the way around. Not even a horse thundering toward her made the raging princess move, and the player yanked the reins before she felt herself tumble over her horse’s head and onto her back.

The familiar feeling of the wind being knocked out of her lungs made her grumble, and as she quickly got up, she looked toward the stranger that broke her stride, and noted that she didn’t even look back.

“Head over heels?” Kane teased as she tapped the dust off of her uniform.

With a scowl she climbed back on as play was whistled live once again.

The game wasn’t fun, she decided, back and shoulders aching, pride wounded. Not fun at all, and her soul was clearly on sale.

“You’re a pretty fellow,” she cooed at the nose that jutted out of the stall.

Far away from the tents and the hats and the people who all said one thing and meant another, the stables were quiet and a refuge. Worse than her anger at her parents, her anger at needing to be their show pony, worse than feeling so tired and overwhelmed, Clarke felt the sick kind of burn of being nothing more than a cliché. The girl with the parents who gave her whatever she wanted, who still asked for more and was unhappy. It was exhausting, and she was stuck in a game that would never let her out or let her win.

And so she rubbed the soft skin of the horse’s chin and she caught her breath.

The thing that she got good at, during these types of events, was always finding a moment to regroup. Ever since she would sneak out on the roof at the McMillan’s annual Christmas party, or down to the basement at the Company mixer, where she was expected to be polite and smile and be the pretty, picture-perfect family for her father’s firm, she had a knack for finding herself eventually.

In just a few minutes, she’d be gone, back to the party to fulfill her parent’s wishes. It wasn’t hard to do. It was just plain phoney. But she gave herself until the applause of the match. She could have that much time alone without raising suspicions.

The hands in the barn didn’t say anything to her, didn’t see her at all. She knew well enough it was because she was in that stupid dress her mother sent over, and they were afraid of her. She took it though. It helped with the illusion of complete anonymity and--

“You!”

Dumbly, she glanced around before looking toward the stomping and the bellowing voice, as if she could see someone else accepting that kind of accusation.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here after that stunt?”

The voice was angry and came from an angry player who tossed her helmet on the ground with her gloves as she tugged them off and glowered at the stranger to the stables. The uniform was muddy, and there was dirt on her cheekbones. Her eyes were pure fire as she started to tug at her uniform top from her pants, freeing the stiffness somewhat into an organized and planned chaos of after-game disrobing.

“Me?”

“Yes, you!” she spoke with her hands waving. “Walking across the pitch during a game? Of all of the-- the--” the words that followed were in a different language as lips moved faster than human speed and hands waved emphatically.

All Clarke could do was watch the absolute hurricane of a person approach her landfall, and she didn’t even have a moment to brace for it. All at once, green eyes were closer, and a belt was tugged off to accent the words.

As frightened and indignant in equal measure as she found herself to be, Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling of being slightly turned on by the crazed girl with strong forearms and the pretty face and the sweaty thing. It was absolutely not appropriate, but there it was, and she didn’t know how to turn it off despite herself.

“And now you’re in here, with my ponies,” she scoffed. “Go on. Speak then. What is your problem?”

“Currently? Being yelled at in Spanish by a crazed, sweaty woman,” Clarke sassed, standing her ground as soon as she was given the chance. “What’s your problem?”

“Haven’t you heard? You don’t think I have enough of that to worry about, and now killing one? Do you have a death wish?”

The polo player pressed close and furrowed so deep, Clarke was certain her disapproval was etched permanently on the bone of her forehead. She stood taller as well until both were almost touching. There was a familiar air to the player. Clarke had seen her face before, or so she thought, that tiny hint of the known lingering just enough, hidden right beneath the anger and frustration.

“Do you have any manners at all? What did I do to you?”

“My manners might be missing because of an entitled princess putting me on my back because she thinks she can cut the pitch during a game!”

“If I wanted you on your back, you’d be there!”

Both with chests heaving they stared and glared and waged a war despite the blush that crept into Clarke’s cheeks at the suggestion and the proximity.

“Is that so?” the stranger cocked her head, a smirk hidden beneath the overwhelming anger. “Not on your life, ticket holder.”

“What, is that an insult?”

“Just don't walk on the pitch. Okay? It’s not that hard. I know you think you can do whatever you want, but not out there,” she muttered, brushing past the partygoer.

Still stunned, Clarke wondered how her day had turned into this. She hadn’t cut the pitch, she was almost certain. But it was a blackout blur of the need to escape. She must have. She must have done something to be remembered by a player. A player that she knew but didn’t.

“Oh, is that it?” Clarke asked, wheeling around and stomping after the player. Woods was blazed across her shoulders. “Scream at someone, insult them, and walk away?”

“Yes,” she shrugged and turned toward the showers.

They approached a restricted area, but nothing was deterring Clarke from this battle. She had many to fight today, and this wasn’t one she could afford to lose, though she was certain she already has. She would take a pyrrhic victory if offered at that rate.

“I don’t know what you think you know about me, but you don’t know shit--”

The sight of a shirt being pulled off made her mind fail. How could it not. Two minutes after meeting a gorgeous girl, and she was suddenly near a shirtless hot girl. With the muscles. And the body. And the… just all of it.

“I have to shower and look nice so people like you will give me money so I can play,” she put her hands on her hips.

The mud streaked down the side of her neck and over her collar. There was a streak of bruises already forming on ribs and hip and Clarke looked, despite herself.

“Yeah, well me too,” she snapped, hands on hips, ready for another standoff like boxers before a bout.

Maybe she didn’t understand, and the confusion was evident on her face, but the polo player slacked slightly, the tension on her shoulders and face diminished just enough to notice. Maybe it was because she was amused, maybe it was because she was tired, but she searched the blonde’s face and nodded to herself.

“I’m going to shower now, so unless you’re going to take off that pretty dress--”

“You wish,” Clarke sneered, looking her up and down and silently begging her to make that wish. Make it. Just a little bit. Tempt away.

The smirk was still angry, still defiant, still there and infuriating. The polo player unbuttoned her pants before her hands moved for her sports bra and Clarke turned around immediately.

“Stay off the pitch during a game, princess!” she called as Clarke stomped out of the shower room.

“Be a better player!” she taunted before finding fresh air.

Back to where it started, just ten feet from the showers, Clarke stood stark still and evaluated what had just transpired, and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what or how or even who she’d been before it. But here she was, in the now, and painfully aware that a specimen like that existed in the world and had a temper.

It wasn’t the worst fact to mull and distract herself with as she decided to seek out her parents once more for another round of earning her keep.

In under an hour, she was showered, cleaned, and put in a pretty dress for all to see, smile permanently affixed and brain decidedly shut off as she made the rounds and talked shop wit weekend players and observers who followed but couldn’t play.

Those were conversations she could have. She liked talking about the state of the league and the projections for the cups. She liked talking about projected ponies and trainings.

What she didn’t particularly enjoy was talking about how she modeled to pay the bills. About how she was on billboards and in magazines for perfumes and such, because it made her blush, and her father raised her to be modest.

He also raised her to be humble, but she was working on that part.

“We play in California in a few weeks, and then Kentucky,” Lexa explained to a few people.

“And my team is going to win. Hands down,” their benefactor regaled the group, raising his glass joyously.

Marcus Kane was richer than rich. He had money that was comparable more to a small country rather than another person. And it wasn’t that Lexa disliked him for it. In fact, she actually almost enjoyed him as a person. If he hadn’t spent twenty years of his life building an empire, he might have even been a professional player.

Lexa had been on teams with overbearing owners, and she was fortunate that her’s genuinely just enjoyed the game. It was a blessing, and one that she knew. Even he didn’t enjoy the pomp that came sometimes, but still, she didn’t let him know how uncomfortable it made her.  

“You gave us a run, that’s for sure,” the owner of another team nodded, offering the winners another round of drinks.

“A good play all-around,” Lexa politely agreed before excusing herself to mingle.

It wasn’t terrible. She was good at it, good at turning her head off and pretending. She loved the game, loved what she could be, and if this was just another part of it, then she was okay with that. She’d resigned herself to it.

The food wasn’t terrible. She liked the little sweet lemon cakes. They reminded her of home, and for an instant, the moment it hit her tongue, summertime.

She circled back around, carefully following the cakes back into the large country home that operated as the hosting house for the tournament. The garden party now covered the lawn, ebbed and flowed and moved through the expansive state. As the sun began to set, the party just got better, got bigger, got more elite.

Eventually, her teammates found her and formed a safe circle. It was what they did after all requirements had been met.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dismounted,” Lincoln teased.

“I did it to myself, so it doesn’t count,” Lexa countered.

“It sure as hell does.”

“Kill someone or hit the brakes,” she argued. “I think it’d look bad if I trampled someone.”

“Sure.”

Surrounding the small table and with celebratory drinks, the team devolved into discussing the game and the pretty wives that wanted to sleep with them. It was their normal talk, and they chattered while Lexa sipped her champagne.

For some reason she hadn’t thought about seeing the girl from the stables. Her temper had gotten the best of her, her rashness, her disregard for the old count to ten method. She blamed it on her mother and those genes and the adrenaline of competition.

And as caught of guard as the stranger had been, when she stood up and glared, Lexa felt a little intrigued, a little bad about the yelling until her body would ache and then she remembered she could have killed her.

But to see her in the party was another sight completely. She was the prettiest girl there, and she wouldn't even bring it up to the table because they would try to debate it, and she knew the truth. Sullen and bored, the blonde princess looked like she was as miserable as anyone else.

“Lexa, I’ve been looking all over for you,” the familiar tug of Kane’s hand around her waist shook her awake again, and she lost her in the crowd.

“Just accepting a brutal thrashing from the team.”

“Not too sore from that?” he pressed as they navigated through the crowd.

“Not a bit,” she lied.

His personality was catching, his enthusiasm was overwhelming and she did like him as a person. Honest and good and a kind man, and though she had bouts of melancholy about selling her soul, she was happy.

“I want to introduce you to someone. I’m sure you’ve seen her at practice, but I haven’t been able to articulate my thoughts about it, or we’ve been very quiet. You know how these people are,” he shook his head, as if he weren’t part of the machine that kept lining his own pockets with the people who all did the same.

“Holding out on us?” she elbowed him slightly.

“Yes. I don’t want to hear what they have to say,” he chuckled.

“We’ll mock you later.”

Before he could give her a look, he paused and let go of her and reaching out for a brown-haired woman on the opposite side of the pitch.

While the lights all burned and created a galaxy, the night crept it and loosened the people, let them enjoy the skyline in the background and the feeling of being rich and well lubricated.

“Honey, I want to introduce you to one of the best players in the country. Hell, the world.”

The woman who turned around was beautiful, for her age. But Lexa knew the secret of love, and she looked to her boss as he smiled and looked adoringly at the woman, and she knew how important this woman was to him in an instant.

“I’ve heard so many stories,” she nodded politely. “Alejandra Woods?”

“Lexa is fine,” she smiled, toothy and wide as she shook a hand.

“This is Dr. Abby Griffin,” Kane smiled as he kissed her temple. “Genius and beautiful savior of people’s brains.”

“And cringer while watching the game. Thank goodness you wear helmets.”

“He’s got a hard head,” Lexa assured her, earning a laugh. “And he’s not half bad.”

“I was impressed,” she agreed, placing her hand on his chest as the meshed together.

To Lexa it was very honest and very cute. She loved love. She loved seeing love, and she loved seeing people she liked when they were in love. It was like sunshine and rain and all manner of goodness mixed together for her to steal.

“Lexa has been my favorite investment of all time,” Kane boasted proudly. “Fills my halls with cups and humors me enough to still teach me a few things.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“Well don’t overwhelm me with compliments,” he chuckled.

“That was a compliment.”

“I like her,” the doctor nodded, amused and enjoying the polo player. “I have a daughter about your age running around here. And an ex husband who might not like you on principle, so I apologize in advance.”

“Who doesn’t have a few of those, right?” Lexa tried.

“Actually, I think I see her. Clarke?” Kane called while Abby asked Lexa something about her family back home.

“You were in those ads, weren’t you? You model sometimes?”

“I do. It helps pay the bills.”

She was everything Lexa would imagine Kane would like in a woman. Articulate and polite, just distrustful enough to be prudent but also that fake kind of warm while she sized someone up. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, for a woman of her accomplishments and age.

“And this is my daughter,” Abby smiled as Kane waved her over. “I apologize in advance for her. She just found out about Marcus and myself.”

“Clarke, I’m glad you’re still here. I want you to meet my star,” Kane referenced Lexa yet again. “Lexa, this is Clarke Griffin.”

And that was why the cutting the pitch happened. And that was why she was angry. Lexa recognized her yet again. The girl in the purple dress with the blue eyes and the anger.

“We’ve met,” she pursed her lips.

“Glad to see you’ve managed to avoid the pitch,” Lexa taunted, satisfied with her dig.

“That was you?” Kane put it all together.

“I didn’t realize. But I just found out that you’re fucking my mother and couldn’t get away quick enough.”

The entire conversation died down before Kane ran his hand along his beard and looked at the doctor. Lexa shifted her gaze from the girl to the distance in hopes of melting away, in hopes of having someone rescue her.

“If you’ll excuse me, I see some alcohol with my name on it.”

With that, she was gone as quickly as she came, and Lexa was left oddly intrigued by another clichéd problem of people who gave her money.

The best option was to leave. Clarke knew it, and yet, she couldn’t pass up the drinks that existed, nor could she leave without her best friend who was currently networking for her tech startup, and thus, she let her devotion overrun her urge to flee at all costs.

That was how she met Kane in a new way, as her mother’s boyfriend. That was how she saw her father’s face fall and grow tight until he excused himself and busied his night with the rest of his firm, drinking and smoking cigars and playing cards in some parlor tent. That was how she had not one, but two awkward encounters with a hot polo player. That was her night, and there was no escaping it.

So she elected to ride it out.

“Perhaps we should properly introduce ourselves,” a newly familiar accent slid across her shoulders and made her gulp.

From her spot at the fence, she surveyed the pitch and the dancing and the band and all gaiety of the tournament’s final night.

“I don’t know. I like our rapport,” she finally turned to see the player.

“It seems our paths may cross often at this rate. You should know my name.”

“I don’t think they will.”

“Your new papa is my boss,” Lexa offered, leaning against the bar near the fence. “I’m sure you’ll be around from time to time. And I should also maybe apologize for my temper.”

“You should.”

“Clarke, it was?” she asked, innocent and awfully cute for someone Clarke knew to have a wrathful kind of anger when provoked.

“Yes.”

“Lexa Woods,” she extended her hand and waited. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Clarke didn’t look at her when she dropped her hand, just drank and stared out at her mother laughing in a crowd. For her entire life, she’d watched her mother fake it, and for some reason, this looked real. She dusted Kane’s jacket and she smiled when he whispered in her ear, and Clarke wanted to be happy, she truly did, but she was not that big of a person yet. She needed time.

Unbeknownst to her, the player beside her searched her profile and smiled into her drink before helping herself to another lemon cake. When she was satisfied with figuring out how gorgeous the blonde was, Lexa followed her sights to the newly outed couple.

“My mother said she’d been in love with him since the first time she saw him back in college, before she even knew my father.”

“That is a good story,” Lexa nodded to herself.

“Time and life and pride kept them apart, she said. But everything is finally lining up.”

“Felicidades.”

“I don’t know how people fall in love at first sight,” Clarke sighed and watched her mother dance her with her new boyfriend. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I agree,” the polo player murmured as she sipped from her glass. “I need at least one conversation.”

That was what it took for Clarke to finally look at Lexa, who was not the same person who yelled in the showers, who was someone who seemed at peace and relaxed. It was infuriating that it was so catching.

“Just one?”

“If it’s stimulating enough. Lust and love are linked.”

“But not interchangeable.”

“But necessary in good measure.”

They debated and grew closer without meaning to until Lexa pulled away to signal for a water, and another for her new friend and patron.

“You would rather have lust, wouldn’t you?” Clarke accused as she caught her breath and waited “The quick and easy and simple thing that it is. Love a bit too complex for someone who hits a ball around with a stick while riding a horse?”

“That might be the third time you’ve insulted my intelligence in the very short time I’ve known you.”

“You missed the other two?”

There it was. She earned a laugh and smile, not a smirk, a pure smile. And it changed the set of the players face, it changed the slope of her cheeks. It wasn’t the worst to look at, for the most part.

“You are so very wrong about me, princesa,” Lexa shook her head and nodded a thanks for the drinks. “You dismiss lust as if it were something bad.”

“Not bad, just not enough. Not a good foundation. Lust passes quickly. It’s a shot, taken back and felt for a second. Leaves a bad hangover.”

“I think a good love is possible to be passionate. It’s necessary, actually,” she insisted. “A good conversation will stimulate passion and lust. That’s easy. A great conversation is when I will fall in love.”

“You seem to have strong opinions on it.”

“I do. We all should have opinions about love. It is inevitable.”

“But you don’t believe in love at first sight?” Lexa asked again.

“I don’t even believe in love at first conversation,” Clarke decided, turning away from the couple on the dancefloor again.

She stared at the polo player in the pretty dress, with the pretty face and the pretty muscles and the pretty smile and challenged her once again.

“Well, then when do you believe in love, hermosa?”

The battle raged once again, a quieter, toned down version of their match in the stables, though the stakes felt just as high, just as different and just as necessary. Clarke couldn’t help it, though she wanted to very much look away. She watched Lexa take a sip from her glass.

“I don’t know if I do,” she confessed.

“You don’t believe in love at all? You’ve never felt it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t believe in stimulating conversation?” Lexa tried.

“I don’t believe you can meet someone and know that you are deeply, madly, mythically in love with them. Not in a look, not in a conversation, not in a lustful night.”

“How long will it take for me to get you to fall in love with me?”

Clarke thought about the question as she sized her up politely. She had been drinking all day, but she wasn’t drunk. She’d learned from a young age to pace herself. Lexa didn’t appear drunk, and she didn’t even seem too bothered by the question, though it was hard to determine if that was just because she lived at two extremes, either a fiery temper or a cool peacefulness were her only settings, or because she just like taking the piss when she was drinking.

But Clarke thought about it as she looked at the beautiful face and the smile that made her head spin.

“I don’t even lust you.”

“So a while?”

“A while,” she nodded. “You were just yelling at me earlier.”

“Passion is passion. Love and hate are so close.”

“And how long would it take you to fall in love with me?”

She watched the grin spread as the player suddenly turned bashful and looked at her watch before back at her.

“Whenever this conversation ends.”

Many disappeared from the party. Many left and bled into the night, following the veins back to the heart of the city after a well-spent day doing absolutely nothing but eating and drinking at someone else’s expense.

Lexa was still there though, long after her normal curfew she imposed on herself because she still could not figure out if a certain beautiful blonde hated her or was intrigued, and the only true way to celebrate a win was with a beautiful woman. Everyone knew that.

There was no end in sight to the conversation though, and it had been a joke, but now she wasn’t so sure she wasn’t falling in love with the idiot who walked across the pitch and laid her out on her back.

“I guess I just like real people. Sometimes these people don’t seem real. Sometimes a lot of people don’t seem real,” Clarke explained as they strolled through the stables.

“And that is why you left?”

“And the divorce was messy. They didn’t notice me quietly disappearing.”

“You’re the same as me then,” Lexa nodded as she paused at a stall and ran a hand along a nose that poked out at her.

“How so?”

“My father isn’t rich, but he taught me to play with ponies he took care of for a richer man,” she explained as she ran her hand along forehead and earned a nudge. “And he said he sold his soul to play. That was the price. Kane buys me horses, he buys our uniforms and he pays us to work here, train him. The only reason I get to play is because he says I can. If I wasn’t as good as I am, he’d drop me.”

“He seems to like you.”

“He likes winning.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Gently, Clarke held out her hand and felt the lips searching for sugar before they snorted in her palm at the absence of a treat. She relegated herself to watching Lexa push away hair and kiss the patch of white on the black horse’s forehead.

“But you’re the same. You come to these things because your father pays your rent, and your mother pays for school.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not so bad, if you don’t think about it,” Lexa grinned. “But sometimes I think about it too much. Especially on days like today.”

She wasn’t accustomed to so many words coming out, but she said them and she knew that Clarke understood. So she looked at her in the dim light of the stable and watched her watch back.

“I don’t know which you I like,” Clarke pondered. “The thoughtful, kind one now, or the angry, half-naked one from earlier.”

“I get that a lot.”

There was a quiet now, between them. And there was the woozy kind of blur to the night, where the memories were tinged on all sides, all laden with alcohol and commiseration.

“Did you fall in love with me?”

The question came with a bit lipped and a shift in bodies. It came beneath eye lashes and in, Lexa’s opinion, the most sultry gaze anyone could muster. And she as damn sure that Clarke knew it, too.

“Is this the end of our conversation?”

“It might be.”

“Then I might have,” she decided, stepping a little closer to the daughter of the people who stomped her divots.

It was bold, but she was known to be. She placed her hands on Clarke’s hips and pressed her against the door to the office.

“Do you do this often?”

“Never.”

“Me neither,” Clarke swallowed as Lexa hovered close.

“Do you want this?”

Lexa waited for a response and only got a kiss. Her hands gripped hips tighter as she caught up and felt tongue. Her own hips pinned the relative stranger against the door. That was all of the response she needed as she opened the door and they slammed against the inside.

“I can certainly call it lust,” Clarke decided as she was lifted to a desk and the door was kicked shut.

Just like that, the hall where the horses were was quiet again as they disappeared to the dark office. She tugged the player closer again and wrapped her legs around her thighs. Things were digging into her back. A stapler fell to the ground with a cup of  pencils.

“You think too much about things that do not matter.”

“What matters?” Clarke challenged, her nails scraping along back.

“You, me, poetry, horses, wine, and sunshine,” Lexa recited, dragging her lips over neck as she spoke, earning arching back.

Lexa stood between Clarke’s legs as she laid on the desk. She ran her hand down her chest, over her stomach and back up again toward her neck where she held her jaw. There were many things her hands could do, and this was one of them.

“Are you going to fuck me or write me a poem?” she taunted.

“Can’t I do both?”

“Have you been planning this since earlier?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I hated you this afternoon.”

“And now?”

“Now, I’m indifferent.”

Clarke chuckled and pulled her closer, catching onto the dry  humor that seemed to emanate from the polo player. She bit her lip and she moaned into her mouth as she ground against her.

“Te pareces al mundo en tu actitud de entrega,” Lexa whispered as her hand slid beneath the dress.

“Oh God,” Clarke moaned, clinging to her shoulders, breathing hot against her ear.

Lexa wanted to slide lower. She wanted to pull down the dress and kiss everywhere, to do it properly, to do it well. But she had those noises and she wanted more of them or else she was certain she would die.

“Pero si cada día, cada hora, sientes que a mí estás destinada con dulzura implacable, si cada día sube una flor a tus labios a buscarme,” Lexa whispered as she fucked the beautiful girl on the desk. “Ay amor mío, ay mía, en mí todo ese fuego se repite.”

“Fuck. I’m--”

She didn’t stop. She whispered poems to her and she earned arching back and a long moan followed by a body that relaxed into itself and jolted as she moved her fingers. Still, Clarke clenched around her, and still, Lexa enjoyed it.

“You can admit that you love me now,” Lexa smirked.

“Shut up.”

“While you’re collecting your thoughts and your panties,” she decided as she began to straighten herself up a bit. “I should tell you that I studied for my degree in literature while playing for my school’s team. I have degrees. I’m not a brute.”

“Show off.”

“For that, I am keeping these then,” she teased, waving lacy black fabric  around her finger.

“You earned them.”

NEXT

[inkhouse8]

From Last Night ...

Hi!  Just listening to music, was reading a Sagittarius book & had the idea to write out some of the Libra book I have for you only to find that I don’t know if it’s accurate or not, leaving me to think I don’t want to share it at this moment.  So, I’ll write a quick little blog instead.  It’s 2 am & maybe if I go through it tomorrow I’ll have more luck with my intuition on the whole thing.  How are you doing today?  I don’t know what time I’ll post this but probably once I wake.  I’m good!  Sure am. Got the dishes put away – man I love Jenny!  She’s pretty cool.  I’m happy about her coming in every 2 weeks.  Hey, we’re doing pretty good, hey?  I can feel it.  It feels so good to be here with you again.  It’s almost too good to believe, but I do believe it.  After all the years we’ve been playing this sport together I’d say we’re right about where we like to be.  Listening to your older stuff.  Lose Yourself is on  ~ and I’m loving it.  I read in that book of Sadges that I like movement and action.  Maybe this is my need for music & my love & passion for it.  Music moves my soul.  I had been wondering what it is about me & music men – as far back as I can remember there’s been someone I’ve dreamed of.  Everyone was older than me and you know how I feel about older men, not a good mix with me.  You’re the only one that checks off all my boxes for even being possible for it to work out with me.  Your chip. Mine.  Fuck.   Now that I see that it seems so obvious to me – a true match.  On my side I see that.  You don’t cough up your feelings everyday like I do so you’ve got an advantage over me.  It probably won’t be the last one either & I’m totally cool with that. Sure.  Why the fuck would I care?  I don’t.  I’ve got so much stuff going on in my head I couldn’t care less if you have one up on me. Have 10.  Have it all.  Sure. I read I’m free & flexible. My book was encouraging me immensely. Maybe yours will be for you.  I’ll read it later on today after I sleep.  Or you could just come & get it.  Ooh ya, Marshall.  Do that.  No, I know you can’t.  It’s cool. I hope you know that I just ask you to let you know that I would love to have you here with me.  I’m in no way trying to persuade you or pressure you. Fuck no.  Who would want that?  Not say I.  So, here we are.  How lovely. I like it.  I got two bumble bees, the larger ones (that’s all that was left). They’re pretty darn cool.  Got them hung up & they too are God’s.   I love them. Things like those make me so happy. The decaf tea I got from the pantry was on sale two boxes for 7 bucks.  I got those even though I have half that first box left because I want to make an iced tea for camping to put in that blue & white cooler jug I got from Missions the day I got my cooler.  It’ll just be tea, no lemon or sugar, but I think that’ll be nice to have with ice & water with it.  So that’s kinda cool.  I got tons of deals when I was out.  I also got a wild orange tea that looks quite nice.  I must have bought 8 boxes of tea & only 3 cartons of apple juice.  It’s heavy so I don’t like buying too much at one time.  Harder to pack up the stairs.   I will buy more on my adventures, probably this weekend.  And I forgot the mayo.  Shooby is right, my friend.  You got that right.  It’s not every day I write a blog anymore, hey?  No I’m all about the photos on Instagram & the words & photos on facebook.   I’ve got a lot of pages going right now.  Like 5 Instagrams.  Huh.  Hey, you know something, I’m so fucking in love with you.  It’s super cool.  I’m loving it.  Feels like after all that time away that I’m back to feeling like we belong together & that what is happening is so good for me.  I feel like we will be together, more so than this.  And that makes me so incredibly happy.  Ya, talk about so good for me.  I believe that I’m better than I’ve been in so long.  My head is clearing & my fears are dissipating rapidly.  I was thinking today, that the fears of being abused by dad anymore are almost gone. Just fear to let the fear go, and all the responses I automatically offer when getting close to being hurt are trying to hold on.  I feel intense.  Like I’ve been working out for years & years & my body is aware of any pin dropping, any word about myself or a wrong look from someone.  I guess I did work out for all those years, at 13 or so when I was teaching myself to shadow box & practicing my kicks in my childhood bedroom – all aimed toward that man.  Spewing venom over & over like a mantra if he got too close in a way not meant for father-daughter.  Ya, I’m on guard alright.  Fuck am I ever.  Soccer saved my life.  My aggression is rampant when anyone does me wrong.  That’s why I take such an offense when you talk about other women.  I’m on fire.  It rages through my veins & you sparked it into flames.  I can’t help it.  It’s the nature of the beast within me.  I apologize.  I wonder if you understand me a little bit more, my life & my past to see me, like really put two plus two together & get me more.  I was molded by fear, anger & sport.  On to mom.  I was molded by her love, her passion to be a mom & guided by her love of music. Being the youngest of two aggressive siblings taught me to find my own agression & channel it in words.  The sports field taught me so much about team work, individual strengths & power. I am who I am & I’m not going to suddenly be someone I’m not.  But I am going to change & grow into someone who has overcome some hard challenges making me a woman who won’t take a pile of crap from anyone.  So, be forewarned.  I love you.  There are things I won’t stand for.  You know what they are so the ball is basically in your court.  But enough of the truly serious stuff.  It’s now just before 4 am.  I’m nervous to meet you.  More so excited but there’s so much time in between here to then, I guess. I’m just so happy you’ve helped me out again with being close & what it’s done to me.  I wonder what will come in our second year.  Good stuff I’m thinking.  And our third, fourth & fifth … and it goes on, in my mind it does. Getting sleepy.  I’ll say goodnight or rather, good afternoon until we meet later on today.  I love you.   CoRi

[pandaisalwaysinlove]

Very Irritating Prats  part I

Summary: You are the Boston Patriots’s coach. As Chris Evans is great fan of the team, you must meet him time to time as VIP. And you don’ like him at all. From the beginning.

(Y/N) = your name 

(Y/H/C) = your hair colour 

Warnings : 

Genre: fanfiction, reader x chris evans

Rating: 

A/N: We all know Chris and his patriots thing.

I DON’T OWN ANY GIPH 

“All right you bunch of pussies, tha’s the best you can do? What the hell you think? My grandmother could do it better and she’s dead!” you shouted with hostile voice. They needed it. The Boston patriots were the kind of team that needs scream, sweat and blood to make a good effect on the game. If you didn’t shout, they didn’t move a leg. Now they showed so little effort you got really angry.

“Jack!” number 54 got up from the push ups and stood like a soldier “Yes ma’am” you stood in front of him “What was that you were mumming?”

“I .. nothnig...” he mischievously rolled his eyes and then repeated the curse he said.

“50 crunches for that one.” 

You weren’t called “the badass mommy” for no reason. These boys were two times bigger  than you, mostly older, but still, they respected you and listened to you. Because you had experiences, results and real passion for the sport. You made them do tough things,  disciplines the never knew they can do. But that’s why they won every match under your leadership. When they defied or showed up, the had more execise. When they cursed, the got more execise and pay the bill when team went out. 

One good reason was also that you never forced them do more than you could do yourself. Before doing something, you showed them. You lead the way and  show them that if a girl/woman can do that, the have to do it with finger in butt. 

While you strolling around them, you noticed movement behind you. 

“Oh no...” you mummed. Another VIP visitors - “very irritating pratts” you called them. Celebrities, mayors, rich peple wanted to see their favourite team training and preparing for the game. As the team go screwed by that they apparently didn’t know. Idiots. 

As you supposed, all boys looked forward the visitors.

“All right, get up you airy-fairies..” they all stood up and gathered before you. 

“Hey coach..” asked the captain “Who’re they?” 

“Got no clue...” you said sullenly. 

“Hey (Y/N)..” greeted you Steve, your coach assistant. He had by his side tall well built man with cap. 

“Steve..” you mummed and turned around to boys. 

“Get two rounds now. The first one can carry my books.” 

The team run quickly as possible. You chuckled. 

“That’s how you motivate them before match?” 

“That’s top secret information.” you mummed and clapped, as first player got near “Come on, Buzz, show me, show me!” 

Steve asked “We’re here to get some signs..can you let them go earlier?” 

“Signs for what?” you didn’t even turned to him. 

“Hospital.” said visitor and took off his cap an sun glasses “I’m sorry, I know how it is to be distracted during training, it won’t happen again.” he pushed his hand towards you “I’m affraid we haven’t been formaly introduced. I’m Chris.” 

You rolled your eses “Don’t you say.. I saw you last training sittin up there. Steve told me.. about you..” then you added your name and shook his hand. 

He looked thrilled “I’m big fan and when I heard the team change the coach, I needed to see..” then he hawked and smiled “I must say..”

Then Buzz finnished hislast round and run towards. You clapped and shouted “We have winner, Buzz again beated your asses, take one more round, girls!” 

You gave Buzz pat on the shoulder and he sat down on the ground, deeply breathing. This boy was tough. And you were something like best friends. Off the field of course.  

Steve and Chris uncovered their ears  “Whoa (Y/N), they must hear you across the Massachusets bay..” laughed Chris and gave you a smirk. 

Like you would care. Not here, boy. Go hunt dumb fans somewherelse. 

“Okay.. gather here boys..” you shouted again. Team crowded before you.

“As you have noticed, we have visitors.. and these would like to tell you something..” you turned on Steve “Or ask you something? I donno, just listen.”

You sat on the coach seat and observed the situation. While Steve gave each of member pen and small ball, Chris told them that these balls will go to a public sale, from whre money shall be spend by local hospital and its oncology. Interesting idea, but why the have to pull this out always at trainig? How can these boys get training when someone is here all the time? 

“Alright, give the godamn significure, put some heart or kiss, come on, Jordan, wirte there xoxo, I know you want.” when they finnished, you added “now go to the showers, I shall not see you this day.” team broke with goodbye and slowly strolled to the showers. Some of members stoped and took picture with Chris Evans. 

“D’ya wanna me to hold the camera Michael?” you sputtered. 

“Uh no, coach,.. sorry coach..” 

Chris looked at you with quizzical eyes.He apparently couldn¨t see, how much he irriteted ou. Not only because he came and ruined your training, but just because youu got really alergic to all celebrtities, their attitude and freakin’ smiles. They thought they can do everything, that was the real problem behind. This drove you crazy. Their common idea of their own sanctity. The were all the same. You’d like to see them doing  stuff with the boys, they’d have to move five times more than they ever did while making movies.

“Well, I should be going..” said Steve but you stopped him “No, you’re not, you will tidy up this mess.” you pointeed at all aids, wich were liing about all over the field “It’s your turn.”

It wasn’t really, the boys should be doing this stuff, but you wanted to revenge.

“All right.. could you please..” he pointed furtively at Chris. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“I’ll escort you safely back to the car park..” you mummed and he followed you

“How often they have training?” he asked with curiosity.

“Five times a week plus two times is gym and one day we always go swimming.” that’s it. You even couldn’t tell him more. It was something like medial secret. Or cook’s inherited property. Just secret.

“How long are you coach?” he tried to make converstaino, but apparently he didn’t notice that you are simply not interested.

“Now that’s really not your bussines, is it?” you looked at him and wink.

“You don’t like me very much do you?” he asked aboveboard. 

“I don’t like when Steve brings people to my training...” you answered slightly defensively. You had your reasons why not to tell him the version about spoiled celebrities.

“So you don’t mind if I join you now and then after the training?” he gave you half-smile “I need a new work out programme and..well I’d like you to help me...”

You deadpan at him.

“Well I don’t know if you’re just being modest, but across the Boston I couldn’t find better..”

“I’ll get you list of people who are more fit to this than I am.” you interrupted him and showed him doors to car park. 

He smirked and put on his glasses and cap “So I’ll see you on.. thursday?”

“Just don’t interrupt my training. And,” you examined him “You’d better ask my team about me. They know best that you should never mess up with me.” 

“They recommended you to me..” he waved and chuckled. 

Oh boy. 

[theonyxpath]

Figured that now would be a good time to take a look at how things are going with your favorite gaming company.

No, not them, I mean Onyx Path. Sheesh.

After all, we’re near the end of the year – at least the part before everything gets holiday crazy – and next week we start our They Came From Beneath the Sea! Kickstarter.

So let’s take advantage of the time period and have a little snapshot of where we are. We’ll do more of a “Year That Was” thing in a later blog, I think. (This one is long enough as it is – yeesh!)

2018 was a challenging year, but one where we were able to catch up – finally! – on a lot of projects and start delivering some delayed ones…as well as delivering a bunch of Kickstarter projects earlier than estimated!

If you recall from MMN blogs in the past, I started Onyx Path with a three-part plan for the sorts of projects we would take on, so let me divide my comments based on that.

1- Our Wholly Owned Games:

This category is perhaps our timeliest right now, with both books for Scion 2nd Edition and the Trinity Continuum Core and Aeon all having delivered their KS backer PDFs and in various stages of prepping for their traditional print-runs.

This is very satisfying to be able to say, because as our KS backers know, a large part of the delay in getting these two lines to this point was needing to create a system for them that wouldn’t fall apart at higher power play, and which, frankly, was designed with an eye towards the last couple of decades worth of how games are played.

And while still being a recognizable dice pool system for our fantastic fans of the first editions who kept these games alive all these years!

Just today, our old friend and long-time writer and developer Bruce Baugh posted a long and informative “review” of Storypath on his Facebook page and RPG.net, and I’m taking the liberty of posting some of his thoughts here:

I mean to say, if, on the other hand, you tell players that all active approaches are good – that every one solves some problems well and makes for entertaining drama in trying to solve ones it’s not so great for – the choice moves from “should I risk it?” to “_how_ should I risk it?”, because of course they’re taking the kind of risk and get to decide how. Presuming here that players want to have an adventurous good time, the game’s stepping up to point out the scenic attractions and give them a hand where the footing’s tricky. I love it.

Or take a situation where the character’s pursuing someone, using the Athletics skill. The Forceful character uses Might, running fast, bursting through barriers, maybe throwing things to bring down the pursued, and so on. The Finesse character uses Dexterity, perhaps engaging in impromptu (or prepared!) parkour and acrobatics. The Resilience character uses Stamina, and might look for shortcuts that involve kind of long falls, knowing they’ll be able to take the blow, shake it off, and keep going. Every option is good, every option invites the player and Storyguide to look for opportunities to engage with the setting.

Meanwhile, as those two lines move to printing, we have Scarred Lands, which seems to be living up to its name. After a decent start, we had to go back to square one and reconsider how to publish this classic White Wolf-created D20 game after the death of Stewart Wieck, who was originally my partner in publishing it.

I’m glad to say that we indeed have a plan for how to “reactivate” Scarred Lands and you can look for a Kickstarter for the 5e version of the famous Creature Collection early next year. We’re teaming up with a brand new design studio to bring you a gorgeous and exciting new version of SL‘s classic monster manual as the start of more Scarred Lands greatness.

If you’re looking for a Scarred Lands actual play, Travis Legge runs one on Twitch: They play Mondays from 2-4 PM CST at twitch.tv/plasticageplays and archive episodes on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SzVwM7FjhlU&list=PLmiXCaSrrCIjmCJQQ7oLwLNahmDbdn_2J and release it in podcast form via anchor at https://anchor.fm/mythsandmatchmakers

They Came From Beneath the Sea! art by Larry Blamire

And for the fourth of our Onyx-owned projects, the aforementioned They Came From Beneath the Sea! Kickstarter emerges from the waves next week on December 18th. Here’s a link to the teaser trailer, created by film legend Larry Blamire (Thanks, Larry!) and we’ll  be revealing an Actual Play vid later this week across our social media:

Matthew and I will go into some more detail on what led up to this most unusual tabletop RPG next week!

We have some possible new game ideas percolating away right now, but I’m not in too much of a hurry to launch a new one right away, there are still great expansions and ideas to explore for the ones we already have!

#2- Creator-owned partner games:

Headed up by Cavaliers of Mars and Realms of Pugmire (which includes Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, FetchQuest, and the upcoming Pirates of Pugmire).

These are different than a straight-up license, in that the creators are generally deeply involved with the project. Often they do a large percentage of the writing, or bring in teams they run for it. Depending on how we conceptualize the deal, they may have a lot of input on the art or just work on the concepts and let our art and layout folks do the voodoo that they do so well.

Scarred Lands was originally structured far more like this.

So, basically, I look for creative partners that have a very strong vision for the game world, and who I like and want to work with. From there, if the game line exists in the main book and some Stretch Goals, that’s cool. We made the thing and with the magic of the eternal shelf on DTRPG, that’s all it needs to be a success in my thinking.

If the line keeps gathering interest, we’ll try out more projects if the creator is cool with that. That’s the key, we don’t do anything if they aren’t OK with it.

For Cavaliers of Mars, we have just got the books selling into stores, and we’re going to see how things go. If you haven’t heard Rose talk about Cavs on the Onyx Pathcast interview that went live last Friday, it’s a great listen, and she gives advice on how to get started with Cavs as a bonus!

Here is the link to that: https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/e/episode-29-rose-on-mars/

Roll of Good Dogs and Cats art by Shen Fei

Realms of Pugmire is the umbrella brand for Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau projects, and we still have a wide range of projects that came out of both Kickstarters. Here’s Eddy interviewed at PAX Unplugged by Gamerati: https://twitter.com/gamerati/status/1070095836233646081

I currently have two creators talking to me about teaming up for their projects, and again, I’m pretty good with our current slate here, but if the opportunity suggests itself I am open to adding more.

#3- Licensed games:

Which of course start with our WW-owned World of Darkness, Chronicles of Darkness, and Exalted gamelines, but which also include Dystopia Rising: Evolution, and Legendlore.

No doubt about it, this has been a challenging year with our White Wolf licenses. To give you an idea of the complexity, Matthew’s oversight is primarily “just” the WoD projects, and Dixie covers CofD and Exalted. Eddy covers all the rest, with Matt overseeing a bunch of our fiction projects.

The transition to Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition, and getting Mage, Wraith, and Changeling 20th projects to final stages at the same time was a huge effort, but seeing the success of the V5 Chicago By Night Kickstarter has justified it. We felt it to be important for Onyx Path to be able to show what we could do with V5 books, as we had a few pundits insist we could only do “old” Vampire.

Chicago By Night put the stake in that!

We’re moving along really well on Exalted 3rd projects as well, with Dragon-Blooded looking to release its Backer PDF several months before estimate, and Lunars looking good for having its complete text ready for an early 2019 Kickstarter. Meanwhile, there have been monthly PDF releases all year, and smaller EX3 books working their way through the production progress list.

I can’t say enough good things about the entire EX3 creative team, and I’ve just been impressed as hell with co-developers Robert Vance and Eric Minton. They work with their writing teams and with Dixie to maintain their vision for the line while incorporating the creativity of the team.

The Chronicles of Darkness game lines continue to come on line in terms getting their projects finished up in reasonable time frames, and Dixie is still working with the creative teams to emphasize their strengths, and bolster the areas that give them trouble. We’ve had some real movement VtR2, and the Night Horrors books, and then Mage2 is getting back on track as well.

As you can see in the project progress list below, we have some fantastic WW game line projects already rolling into next year, and a bunch of pitches at WW we are waiting to hear back on.

We ran the Dystopia Rising: Evolution Kickstarter this last year, and it was enough to seed several added projects as Stretch Goals to the line. I don’t think we actually reached as many of DR‘s fans as we could have, judging by the comments we’ve received after the KS was done, so it will be interesting to see how sales go once it is in stores.

We picked up this license for a few reasons. First, DR‘s top folk, Michael and Ashley, are extremely smart and creative folks who have innovated a lot in the LARP area, and we like people who can teach us stuff. Second, a new kind of zombie mythos that we, the horror “experts” hadn’t had a chance to play with.

Third: zombies meet Mad Max. Love that woohoo concept. Finally, and really most importantly, it gave us a chance to try the Storypath System in a world that was both grittier and more horrific than baseline Scion or Trinity Continuum. This was really important, and from I’ve heard it works really well for this sort of genre.

For Legendlore, well, apply what I’ve been saying about finding licenses that we can apply our aesthetics to, not visual aesthetics as we’re flexible about those, but design and thematic ones. For now, I’ll leave it at that, as the book has just appeared in the project process queue, and we’ll say a lot more about it next year.

Will we be adding more licenses this year? Well, discussions continue on several properties, so we’ll see. Basically, a license has to be either one that we feel we can create compelling worlds from, even if it is an already existing game, and that works well with our publishing model, or that pays us oodles of cash for very little work (riiiight, and if you find one of those, let me know!).

Trinity Continuum Core art by Pat McEvoy

We’re thrilled to be able to publish so many immersive worlds where players can find deep meaning in their game play. That’s a testament to the amazing writing and visuals that take us to all these places, and to an in-house team that has filled-in, rejuvenated, cajoled, encouraged, and relentlessly supported our out-of-house creative teams.

Mighty Matt and Mirthful Mike, and our trio of Dixie, Matthew, and Eddy, have pushed, prodded, pleaded, and practically puked to get our vast array of projects finished with love and care this whole year, and their efforts are paying off big time as noted above!

In fact, you can listen to the Terrific Trio every Friday on the Onyx Pathcast and often get some clues as to where the projects they are responsible for are headed, and the sorts of challenges they surmount every week.

This Friday, they flash back to the conventions we attended a couple of weeks ago and tell each other about their favorite characters!

Truly, this post has been all about our:

Many Worlds, One Path!

BLURBS!

KICKSTARTER:

Next up, we’re working on the Kickstarter for They Came From Beneath the Sea! (TCFBtS!), which has some very different additions to the Storypath mechanics we’ll be explaining during the KS.  They take an excellent 50’s action and investigation genre game and turn it to 11!

Check out the teaser above!

Looking to start on Dec 18th at 1pm EST but run it extra long into January!

ELECTRONIC GAMING:

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is now live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is both rolling and rocking!

ON AMAZON AND BARNES & NOBLE:

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue you bought it from. Reviews really, really help us with getting folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these fiction books:

OUR SALES PARTNERS:

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the Screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there!

https://ift.tt/2w0aaEW

And we’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

Here’s the link to the press release we put out about how Onyx Path is now selling through Indie Press Revolution: http://theonyxpath.com/press-release-onyx-path-limited-editions-now-available-through-indie-press-revolution/

And you can now order Pugmire: the book, the screen, and the dice! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=296

DRIVETHRURPG.COM:

This week, in celebration of both Monarchies of Mau and Cavaliers of Mars being live for retailers in Studio2, we have new themed merchandise on our RedBubble store: postcards and mugs and all sorts of stuff!

CONVENTIONS

Start getting ready for our appearance at MidWinter this January in Milwaukee! So many demos, playtests, secret playtests, and Onyx Path Q&As you could plotz!

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM FAST EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

C20 Novel (Jackie Cassada) (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Scion Jumpstart (Scion 2nd Edition)

Geist2e Fiction Anthology (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Pirates of Pugmire (Realms of Pugmire)

Distant Worlds (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #1 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

Creatures of the World Bestiary (Scion 2nd Edition)

Redlines

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Witch-Queen of the Shadowed Citadel (Cavaliers of Mars)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

Memento Mori: the GtSE 2e Companion (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Second Draft

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Scion Ready Made Characters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Development

Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)

CofD Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Oak, Ash, and Thorn: Changeling: The Lost 2nd Companion (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

CofD Dark Eras 2 (Chronicles of Darkness)

Manuscript Approval:

Wr20 Book of Oblivion (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Editing:

Signs of Sorcery (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Aeon Aexpansion (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Dystopia Rising: Evolution (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Adventures for Curious Cats (Monarchies of Mau)

In Media Res (Trinity Continuum: Core)

Tales of Excellent Cats (Monarchies of Mau)

V5 Chicago By Night (Vampire: The Masquerade)

Spilled Blood (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

Night Horrors: Shunned by the Moon (Werewolf: The Forsaken 2nd Edition)

Post-Editing Development:

C20 Players’ Guide (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Indexing:

ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Dystopia Rising: Evolution – Finals coming in.

Geist 2e

The Realm 

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

Chicago By Night – Contracting next bits.

C20 Player’s Guide – Still sketches and more sketches.

Aeon Aexpansion

They Came From Beneath the Sea! – KS prep.

EX3 Lunars – Sketches coming in, some finals already.

Signs of Sorcery

In Media Res

Marketing Stuff

In Layout

Ex3 Dragon Blooded – 2nd proof.

Ex Novel 2 (Aaron Rosenberg) 

Proofing

Scion Hero – Page XXs and then Indexing.

Scion Origin – Page XXs and then Indexing.

CtL2 Jumpstart – At WW for approval.

M20: Gods and Monsters – With Phil.

Pugmire Roll of Good Dogs and Cats

Trinity Core – Waiting for errata from Backer PDF.

Trinity Aeon – Waiting for errata from Backer PDF.

At Press

Wraith 20th – Waiting for new cover proof. Everything else good to go though.

Wraith 20 Screen – Printing.

Scion Dice – At Studio2.

Lost 2e Screen – Printing.

Scion Screen – Printing.

Changeling: The Lost 2e – Soon shipping from printer to shipper. PoD proof ordered.

Fetch Quest – Proof sent back to manufacturer, printing starting.

Exalted 3rd Novel – Prepping for release.

PtC Tormented – PoD proof ordered.

TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: 

It’s 7th Sea creator John Wick’s birthday today. I’m sure he doesn’t feel a day older than YARRR!