#lop cpr

[gobvo]

The role of king entails tough decision-making.

[phonydiaries]

Darling, Dearest, (Dead) - P x Reader

Warnings: MEGA-ANGST. DO NOT continue if you don’t want to see P bite the fucking dust or if you’re generally put-off by kind of graphic descriptions of death or injury. Also, once again set way early in the game because I am slow and just can’t confidently write environments and enemies that I haven’t encountered yet. If that all sounds cool to you, read on!

---

The inner chambers of Venigni Works seem to you an absolute nightmare to traverse, and quite frankly a shitty way to organize a factory. You wonder if it could’ve been much easier to navigate back in its glory days, you know, before it was crawling with frenzied puppets lurking in each shadowy corner. In its current condition, you don’t much care for the constant flickering of lights or the disorienting heat of steam which blasts unceremoniously from faulty pipes as you pass them by. You’re almost annoyed at the ease with which P navigates, head held high as he ushers you down a creaking fire escape. 

“If I’m being honest, I’m not entirely convinced that some puppet is worth all this…” you mutter under your breath, your grip tight around the rusty rungs of the ladder. The back of your mind anticipates a surprise attack any minute now; the factory is huge and cavernous and home to some of the most vile creatures you’ve had the displeasure of meeting. Personally, you would be thrilled to pack up and book it out of this place, dragging Mr. Venigni by the scruff of his beard but no. No, Pino is of course the more honorable and dutiful of you two, politely accepting the man’s fetch quest for his missing butler. 

P looks at you over his shoulder and gestures between the two of you with one finger, his brows crinkling in accusatory question, mouth pulled into a pout. You groan, rolling your eyes. 

“Obviously you would be a different story, don’t be daft. I’d sooner die than leave you in this dismal place.”

He huffs a bit at your response, shaking his head, but you know he’s grinning slightly beneath it all, pleased to know you think highly of him. Your feet meet the ground with a damp thud and you allow P to take up the lead again, starting down a winding tunnel. The sound of your steps carry here, and ripple like ghosts through the thick air. It’s dimmer here as well, and makes you a bit uneasy, though you would not admit this to P. Instead, you pipe up, hoping to distract yourself from the eerie feeling which settles uncomfortably in your stomach. 

“I think when we get back home the first thing I’ll do is sleep. All day.” You say, imagining that you are not here in this sweltering labyrinth of rust, but instead wrapped in cool silk sheets at the hotel, lazy and dozing. Any excursion for stalking purposes was bound to tire you out, and you often yearned only for rest upon returning home. Being a puppet, P couldn’t fully appreciate this, but he seemed happy enough to stay with you while you slept, reading at your bedside or sometimes even curled up with you, an arm thrown lazily around your waist. 

“What will you do?” You ask. Your puppet thinks for a moment, then holds both hands out in front of him, fingers splayed in playing position, thunking against the air. He presses his lips together and hums a few somber notes, his eyes lighting up at the idea. 

“Of course, you and that piano. Ever the tortured artist, you are.” You tease, nudging him in the ribs. He nudges back. You both chuckle softly and allow your gazes to linger on each other, just barely, before your attentions snap swiftly back to the task at hand. 

As you endeavor through the claustrophobic halls, a hollow sound of tittering stops you in your tracks. Your head turns, but you see nothing moving in the dark. You tug at P’s coat and place a finger over your lips. He heeds your warning and glances around, eyes narrowing as he peers down the hall. The tunnel is all echoes and distorted reflections. It’s quiet suddenly, too quiet, as if whatever you’d overheard was now acutely aware of your listening. 

P’s hand hovers over his weapon, and you follow suit, both drawing your blades slowly. A few beats of silence pass. Then a few more. At last, P’s posture relaxes some, and he motions down one of the winding paths with a tip of his head. You nod along and move carefully, but with the echoes of your steps the tittering returns, louder, faster, reverberating ceaselessly through the cramped space. Looking over your shoulder you’re met with the chilling visage of several bisected mannequins crawling towards you, their time-worn faces turned up in mindless anger. One clammy hand reaches for your foot and you frantically crush it beneath your boot, the sick crunch of fingers ringing in your ears. 

As P’s eyes dart back at you, more of the wretched creatures are already piling upon each other, their creaking limbs tangling together like spider’s legs as they stretch towards you. You lurch forward, shoving your puppet sharp in the back shouting, “Shit! Go!”

The two of you sprint down the hall, the ugly click-click-clicking of the mannequins trailing close behind. As you nearly crash head-first into a dead end, a standing enemy, fully formed and armed, makes a swing for your head. With a yelp, you smash the hilt of your sword through its head, leaving a deep crater in place of its dead eye. 

P whistles quick and sharp and points in the direction of a flashing light in the distance, offering refuge from this particular chamber of darkness. He ushers you towards him, frantic and wide-eyed with concern. You waste no time making a mad dash for the exit, your feet close on his heels. Just as you’re about to escape miraculously unscathed, practically touching the end of the tunnel, something pushes you to the ground.

The thing lands on your shoulders, a mechanical hand shoving your head against the floor, its worn-down fingers snagging in your hair. You make a cheap grab for your blade, but it’s knocked out of your grasp, skittering across the floor and away through a grate. A dull and throbbing pain begins to radiate from the center of your face. You reach madly behind your head, clawing away at whatever nightmare is currently wailing on you from above. As it lifts your head, rearing back and preparing to slam your face into the floor once again, it’s ripped away from behind. 

Gasping, you push yourself up onto your elbows and watch as P grabs the mannequin by its arm, bashing it brutally against the wall. It shatters to bits in front of you. You scramble out of the tunnel, still reeling to catch your breath. 

As your palm presses into the ground, seeking stability, P approaches and extends his arm to you. His face is streaked with worry, but he offers you a familiar twinge of a smile, oil-specked cheeks rising just-so. You know it’s meant to be soothing, and in a way it works; you do feel safer with him around, even at the worst of times. A thick curtain of dark hair falls over his eye and you resist tucking it away behind his ear. You grab him by his outheld forearm in a less-than-elegant roman handshake and he hoists you swiftly to your feet. His face hovers around yours, inspecting it meticulously for signs of harm. He pauses for a moment, and his finger sweeps delicately across the bridge of your nose, coming away bloody. 

“Dammit…” you mumble, and swipe the back of your hand across the broken skin, leaving a thin smear of blood in its wake. You grimace, unsure if it's broken, but you wouldn’t be surprised. P tips your chin upwards in both hands, tilting his gaze every which way. His brows knit in concentration, assessing just how much he should be fretting over what is -in the grand scheme of things- a miniscule injury. You capture his hands in yours and squeeze gently. 

“Pino, it’s fine.” You assure him. “And could’ve been much worse. If not for you.” 

At this, his eyes waver towards the ground, humble as ever as he offers a one-shoulder shrug. His modesty is infuriating. Your palm cups his cheek, turning his face back in your direction. 

“I mean it.” You say, with fierce sincerity. You’re not sure he ever truly grasps the scope of his own bravery. Perhaps to him it seems only the dutiful thing to do, but you hope some bit of your appreciation, of your deep fondness for him is conveyed. He has stood between you and death more times than you can name. 

Your thumb drags softly along his cheek and your head dips in to meet him. From so close, you can feel his breath just barely grazing your skin, and as your lips brush there is an awful succession of sounds one after another. 

First, is the dreadful creaking of a long-worn machine, rippling along the walls in fruitless warning. 

Next is a gut-wrenching crunch, and the awful scraping of metal against metal. 

Last is a voice haunting and hopeless, some pained cross between a gasp and a choke, forced from Pinocchio’s lungs. 

The chilling sound touches your lips, and for a moment you’re not sure if you or he are its origin. But this soon becomes achingly clear as you look down at the gruesome scene before you. A great rusted hunk of scrap, at least a foot wide, protrudes from P’s chest. The very edge of it grazes your clothes, just barely piercing your skin. You turn your gaze upwards and your heart falls. P looks back at you, through you, his eyes wide, mouth agape, the corners of his lips twitching in shock. You can’t recall ever seeing him so frightened, not even once. 

The hand that’s still holding you tightens to such a degree you feel bruises begin to form along your arm as the weapon is yanked cruelly from its lodging in the puppets chest. A deafening shing reverberates around you. 

P crumbles to his knees immediately; the weapon being the only thing holding him upright. A hulking enemy emerges from behind, spurting steam, it’s heaving limbs clanking together in awful dissonance. You reach instinctively for your weapon but find it missing from your previous dust-up. Thinking quickly, you pull P’s sword from his belt and land a blow to the monstrous head of your attacker. It’s not fatal, but you have not the time nor wherewithal to execute a proper hit. The thing staggers backwards long enough for you to haul P’s arm over your shoulder. You kneel beside him and lift with all the strength you can muster, grunting at the exertion. As your enemy advances, you manage enough of a standing position to move forward and you. Fucking. Run. 

You don’t know how you do it. You can’t explain what numbs the burning in your legs, the throbbing pain in your head, or the sandpaper-rough raggedness in your lungs as you book it down the hall. You’re still terribly lost, and in a frenzy you duck frantically in and out of alleyways, taking your turns sharp and reckless. Frequently your clothes catch on the lip of a door or a bit of exposed machinery and your skin is quickly rubbed raw, paper-thin streaks of crimson cross-hatching your limbs. 

As you move, your surroundings begin falling into a haze, your mind slowing to accommodate the wickedness of  physical strain. Puppets creep out of the darkness and you raise the sword of your fading companion in defiance, hacking away with a blind fury. You’re plagued by faraway cries of anguished exhaustion and far too late realize that they hail from your own mouth. Oil spatters across your face, stains your hands and clothes, mixing so easily with the streaks of blood which run from shoulder to wrist. 

As the unceasing sounds of the factory’s monstrosities die down, finally outrun, you collapse against a wall. You throw your head back as you gulp down air, and even this stings. Hair clings to your face, sticky with sweat, and you tremor under the weight of Pinocchio’s body. You look at him, struggling to stand, and imagine him a staggered princeling, a circlet of blood and silver dripping from the crown of his head. You push his hair back away from his face. He’s in a state like you’ve never seen him. The vibrant blue of his eyes is dulled, a stormy gray overtaking them as they peer bleakly at everything and nothing. His mouth comes in and out of a tight grimace, allowing only staggered breaths which sound to you more like the wheezing of a dying machine. His head lolls against your shoulder, his eyelids fluttering. At this, you swat at his cheek with your open palm.

“Hey- stay awake, now! I’m not done with you!” You snap, shaking his heavy head in your hand. He shudders with exhaustion but obeys, his weary gaze falling to you. The guilt swelling in your gut nearly kills you. It’s torture, you think, bearing witness to the condition of this poor boy, hardly conscious. You wrack your brain as your eyes dart wildly from wall to wall. There must be a way out, a path to safety, somewhere he can be tended to before it's too late. With a start you realize you recognize one of the winding paths before you. You’ve seen it before, yes, yes! You came this way at the beginning; the stargazer can’t be far away. 

“I’m getting you out of here.” you mutter, in honesty more to yourself than to him. “Everything… everything is going to be just fine.” 

Groaning, you heave yourself away from the wall, P tumbling unceremoniously along with you. You feel sorry for making him stand, much less run in such a fractured state, but you have no choice. You persist, and his heels drag heavier and stiffer with each step. The enormous weight of it all staggers you both, practically doubled over. You trudge through a tunnel which eventually lets out at a murky pool of corrosive water. You stumble through the shallows, readjusting your weight in a fruitless attempt to find some configuration that doesn’t feel so unbearable to the both of you. 

As you do this, P’s arm slips from its place over your shoulder and he crashes into the water below, knees buckling. Panicked, you crouch in the muck, wrapping both arms tight around the puppet’s chest. You heave him out of the water, the tendons of your fingers straining as you claw at his soaked clothes. You manage to drag him onto the gravelly shore and immediately collapse beside him. Breathing hard, you cradle his head in your hands, wiping his face clean of all the grit and grime you’ve endured. He hardly responds to this, a miniscule twitch in his eye the only sign of life. Your chest tightens. You’ve come so far, gotten so close, and yet a terrible truth is beginning to dawn on you. 

“Can’t you get up?” You beg, your voice wavering. “It’s not far I can-I could-” you stammer. You can what? What can you do in your condition? The puppet lying before you doesn’t budge, though you swear in his eyes there is something, a longing, a desperation to live; a fear of what awaits him should his story end here. Your eyes sting. “Fucking get up, please!” 

Your throat burns as your idle cries echo across the dark pond. Beleaguered sounds leave P’s cracked lips, pained whimpers, breaths that seem to catch on the mechanical gore in his chest, strained and splintered. His face is that of a strangers, glassy silver eyes and pallid skin, the color in his lips shifted from pale pink to a frigid blue. His gaze doesn’t meet yours, eyes pointed upwards at the cavernous ceiling, seeming to stare past everything. You press your forehead to his, cold and clammy. In your mind you recite prayers, half-remembered, in panicked worship of whatever god cares to listen. 

“Please. You can’t leave me alone.” Foolishly, you hope that guilt, pure obligation will keep him tethered here; perhaps strike up that deep-rooted sense of crushing responsibility. It’s a selfish appeal. You don’t care. 

Suddenly, P gasps and his hand searches frantically for you, tremoring as it clambers blindly up your arm. His fingers bump against yours. Before he’s able to thread them, you feel them fall limp.

Little by little, so does the rest of him. His limbs go slack and his head rolls to the side, chin just grazing the edge of his shoulder. His eyes freeze half-lidded and cloudy, his lips part barely in echo of a final breath. He is the striking image of a fallen angel, lying pale and languid in a puddle of pitch darkness. 

Time screeches to a halt. The air stands still and acrid around you, the unceasing sounds of motors and the turning of gears fade into a dull buzz. There is a dead boy in your arms. 

Where you expect a piercing and unrelenting grief there is nothing. Numbness. An absence of thought or feeling or sense. In an unthinking daze your fingers fold together over his chest, trembling and cold and marred with viscera. The crater of a wound is large enough that it swallows both your hands up, and you stare into the ruins of your companions heart blankly. This feels wrong, violating, like the desecration of a fresh grave. It turns your stomach and still… you press down once, hard. Something cracks under the weight. The boy is still. You push again. Nothing. You push again.

And again. 

And again. 

A sickening thunk accompanies each futile chest compression, along with a shooting pain in your wrist, a hitch in your breath. You don’t let up until the palms of your hands come away sliced and bloody, your face wet with salt and oil and mud. What an awful shame; despair has made a madman of you. 

It’s pure bodily exhaustion which finally forces you to cease this miserable ritual. Your head crashes, throbbing, against your departed’s cold stiff chest. Your hair falls in a matted sweep over your eyes, and you stare through the curtain at nothing. The scene is haunting and dismal in its strange beauty. Your bodies both lie limp, entangled at odd and unnatural angles. 

You hold no concept of what’s to come. Returning to the stargazer alone is simply not an option. The thought of facing Sophia, much less P’s father after this makes you want to vomit. Your eyes fade back into focus. The silhouette of your puppet’s discarded sword in the water whispers to you intelligibly, bloodthirsty and cruel. Your hand, now numb to the dull pain the water inflicts, closes shaking around its hilt. Wrecked beyond recognition, you stagger to a standing position and will yourself not to look at the dead boy at your feet. You can’t bring him back. You may not make it out of here alive. You may not make it out of here at all. 

But you are armed. 

And you are angry. 

And you will kill whatever unfortunate thing crosses your crimson path. 

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Changing (5)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, X-MEN, DEADPOOL

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  Sequel to Name Calling

After merging with your bloodthirsty alternate personality things start getting a little dicey. You’ve got two decades worth of anger to sort through, a feral mutation to figure out how to live with, a biological father who you hate trying to teach you control and if your wedding planner suggests teal for the bridesmaids again you might just eat her liver.

Luckily you have Bucky Barnes by your side, helping you figure things out. What Bucky doesn’t know is that you have found an outlet for the uncontrollable rage, one that absolutely nobody can know about. If your friends and family knew that you were out slaughtering people in the dead of night while they slept, they might be a little annoyed. Wade Wilson is happy to keep your secret though, so long as you keep bribing him with Mexican food.

For as long as you could remember, all you had wanted was to be good. Now you’re seeing the temptation in the darkness.

Chapter Five - Ambitions

You prayed your nifty little healing abilities would be enough to heal you from this but you knew it was still going to hurt like a bitch. The airplane grew smaller and smaller as you hurtled towards the ground and you bitterly thought back to the events that had led you to this.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Erlo must have have crept in to check on you in the middle of the night and left when he saw Bucky in the bed. If he could beat Bucky to the bed he would leap onto it and refuse to move, curling around you protectively. Most times there was a fifty fifty chance you would kick Erlo out of the bed and let Bucky in, but you found it really hard to admonish Erlo for his bad behaviour. But when Erlo pouted because he’d been beaten to bed, you couldn’t kick Bucky out either.

The sunlight streamed through the open window and you shot a wave of irritation at Erlo downstairs as the light woke you. You could feel the warmth of Bucky’s body behind you and the steady rise and fall of his chest and you turned over to look at him. His face was peaceful as he slumbered and you used the opportunity to just look at him, drinking in the sight.

You absent mindedly stroked your hand across his bare chest as you admired him and it must have woke him because his breathing changed. His eyes remained closed and you knew he was trying to pretend he was still asleep. You lightly dragged your nails across his chest and smirked to yourself.

When he didn’t react you changed the path of your fingers so your nails lightly scratched over his nipples and a low rumbling erupted from his chest and he opened his eyes to sleepily smile at you.

“Morning Doll.” He rasped.

“Morning.” You smiled, giving him a soft chaste kiss and laughing when his lips chased yours when you pulled away.

“So, now I’ve been fired I don’t have any plans today.” You told him.

“Is that so? That’s a shame, because I have lots.” He teased.

“Oh?”

“I have to go with Sam and Steve to get our suits tailored.”

“That doesn’t seem like a lot.” You mused.

“Why, did you need your sidekick today?” He asked.

You giggled and his your face in his chest.

“So you saw that?” Your muffled voice enquired.

“Sure did doll.” He said, running his fingers up your spine.

You rolled onto your back and gave him the most suggestive look you could. He turned on his side and hovered over you, his hand running over your hip and down your leg. You sighed happily in contentment until he sat up and got off the bed.

“Well, don’t want to be pining over you so I should get ready for the day before you feel sorry for me.” He sarked.

You whined petulantly.

“You bastard. Robin would never blue-ball Batman!” You yelled, throwing a pillow at his retreating form which he batted away before slipping into the bathroom with a laugh and locking the door behind him.

You groaned and spread out like a grumpy starfish on the bed.

You idly wondered what you were going to do today and realized that your dad was right, you didn’t have many hobbies or goals. The only things you could think off to do involved other members of the Avengers or The X-Men or Wade. There was aloud thump on the balcony as Erlo leapt onto it and padded into the room and rested his large head on the bed and blinked at you.

You felt his curiosity and concern for your current state.

“I need a thing. A me thing.” You told him.

He tilted his head as he thought about it and projected a feeling of helplessness at you.

“Don’t worry boy, it’s not your problem. Why don’t you go and shred some more of Bucky’s shirts for me?” You asked him and he bounded away, the sounds of material being shredded coming from the wardrobe shortly after.

You stifled a laugh into the duvet and went back to your problem. The only way to find something was to look for it you decided.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Cooking was NOT your thing.

The savoury muffins weren’t the worst thing in the world but they weren’t the best either and you were hot, sweaty, covered in flour and annoyed. You couldn’t imagine doing this every day, for fun. Thor seemed happy enough as he munched away at the fruits of your labour, after extracted a solemn promise from you that they were not laced with any kind of potion, truth or otherwise.

First Aid was absolutely not your thing.

You had begged one of the nurses in the medical wing to let you shadow her and after Bruce had signed off on it she had agreed, making sure you knew that you could watch with patients if they agreed and nothing else. After that she had given you and orange and some needle and thread and told you to practice sutures. You had managed to sew it to your sleeve, broken the CPR Dummies ribs when practising on it and accidentally knocked over a tray of equipment before you came to the conclusion that you weren’t cut out for it.

Training new recruits had not gone to plan.

None of them were brave enough to spar with you until you told them they could spar with you or with Natasha. They wisely chose you. Or not so wisely as it turned out. You left them nursing their bodies and their Ego’s after Steve stepped in to stop you insulting a young man by comparing his fighting technique to that of a drunk giraffe.

You were definitely not musically inclined.

You lined up youtube tutorials and tried your hand at learning to play the guitar but the stupid string kept breaking. It was only after your dad walked in on you strumming away and warbling at the top of your voice and actually paid you to stop that you gave up.

Being an assistant was a disaster.

You offered to help Darcy out with her tasks and she made you into The Avengers official coffee bitch, even making you get down on one knee so she could knight you with a rolled up bunch of blueprints. You got nearly every order wrong, broke the coffee machine and spilt coffee all over Darcy’s shoes and she promptly demoted you and threatened to find a real sword to lop your head off if you didn’t immediatley get online and but her new shoes.

Poetry was your Kryptonite.

You spent the better part of two hours hunched over a notepad, tongue between your teeth as you concentrated. You proudly presented your finished masterpiece to Loki who read it with a blank expression and then threatened to turn you into a slug if you ever, ever wrote poetry again.

I am like a cat

But a cat I am not

I am like a monster

But a monster I am not

I am like a demon

But a demon I am not

Do not fear me

I am a friend

I am like a hero

A hero I want to be

“I can’t do anything!” You whined to Erlo as the two of you walked around the grounds.

Affection was the only response he had for you.

“Ugh, and I have to go to School now.” You moaned to your faithful companion.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hi dad.” Your voice was dripping with disdain.

“Princess.” Logan greeted you with gruff

“So what are you teaching me today, how to sniff out Scooby snacks?” You asked him.

“Oh, no let me guess. We’re going to become one with nature as we meditate our way to inner peace.” You interrupted before he could respond.

“Excuse me, Miss Stark? Um Deathwave?” You turned around to look at the young girl who was addressing you timidly.

“Hi there, are you alright sweetheart?” You asked, smiling kindly at her.

She couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen and was practically vibrating with nerves.

“I just wanted to say I saw your interview and I really liked it. I think your right and I really want to see myself as a Queen. I’m a survivor and I’ll try to remember that from now on.” She told you and ran off.

“Huh.” You and Logan remarked simultaneously.

“I saw it as well. Was a good interview. You did well.” He said.

You didn't know how to respond. His praise wasn't something you craved but it wasn’t unwelcome either.

“There are a lot of kids here who went through that shit, maybe you should talk to them. They might listen to you.” Logan suggested.

It was like being struck by a bolt of lightning.

“I need to speak to the Professor!” You announced and ran inside.

You were excited as you pounded on the Professors office door. This was exactly what you had been looking for. Something you could do, something you could be good at and something that would help people.

“Come in Miss Stark.” The Professor’s called out amusedly.

“Professor I want to volunteer as a guidance counsellor.”  You practically shouted as you burst into the office.

“No.” He said.

“No? Why not?” You asked.

“Several reasons, you aren’t qualified for such a position. And I believe that while you could be an invaluable help to these children, you can play a much bigger role in their lives.” The Professor answered.

“What kind of role?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - -

“You’re what?” Tony demanded.

“I’m a recruiter for The School. I’ll travel around the world, find these kids and help the adjust to life at Xavier’s. I’ll only be taking on the more extreme or difficult cases, dangerous mutants who are scared or suspicious of The School or in some cases, rescuing mutants who need it.” You told them.

You were met with an array of blank looks from the team.

“But you’re an Avenger....” Sam pointed out.

“And I will continue to be one. I’m not joining the X-Men. I’m working for Xavier as essentially a ‘buddy’ to help kids settle in. He’s also arranged for me to study to become a qualified counsellor.”You explained.

“But you’re still going to be an Avenger?” Clint confirmed.

“Yes. This is just going to be my day job. My thing.” You said happily.

Tony stood up and grasped your shoulder.

“I’m proud of you Kit Kat.” He said and pulled you into a hug.

“It’s the perfect thing for you Sestra, you will do so well.” Wanda added.

You met Bucky’s eyes as your dad released you and he was grinning at you happily, his eyes shining with pride.

“I’m glad you guys approve. Ok, I just stopped by to let you know.” You said, backing out of the room.

“Where are you going?”Sam asked.

“Um, Prauge. With... Logan.” You grumbled.

“You start already?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry though, I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Eleven Days Later

The last though in your mind before your fragile body hit the ground was that team was going to murder you... once they scraped you off the ground that was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Baby Stark has a job, a real job! What do you think of it?

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz @dugan365@fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard@dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews@likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer@metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky@jsmith509 @chipilerendi@nerdy-bookworm-1998@ericasabe @gravedollie666@madlykpopfan @l0kisbitch@mywinterwolf@sassysweetstories @life-wanderer @jessieray98@littledeadrottinghood

[realprincipalbroker]

There are two things I entertain

There are two kinds of people I like to be around, the ultra rich and the ultra intelligent.

There are some things that it doesn't take a lot of inquiry and investigation to know. You walk through Ward Village's South Shore market, and of all the boutiques in there, and the upscale restaurants that line the Queen Street side where I watch young, well endowed people, I just fit right in with privilege. And I think you could call them that when you compare them to the ones earning the 1010, as I call it, HPD radios for EMS, we're going to need 1010. The higher pays offered by Walmart or Best Buy don't amount to much more for someone where the median home price is $1,050,000 according to Honolulu Board of Realtors' December market update. 

I've always been a bit of a Lee Atwater adherent of Republican strategists, and the rationale of my old colleague in Las Vegas real estate sales, Annie Black, in taking credit for the market, which amounts to acts of God, and moreover, you go through her marketing materials, she's going to talk about social, political underpinnings of the sellers market. It really baffles me from the political strategy perspective. Both approaches may be Mesquite genius and realtor genius, respectively, but they’re also political suicide in the game of presidential politics when you don't want to cast doubt on the veracity of the geniuses that made you in the brokerage world while you're running for congress, senate, or the oval office. I guess she only needs her base, and that says something about how far she'll ever take her politicking? Well, immediate surroundings. These 1010 life support people, in Hawaii, and I'm lopping my Best Buy and Walmart guys in with them, "minimums" down there that you can't really blame for never thinking about what it's like to host a beach party as the owner of a home in Hawaii Kai right there in the Marina community stop in at a store near the front on Auahi Street, or better, eat with some really good looking people accross the table there at one of the restaurants across Tango Contemporary on Queen Street’s end.

You know, I was tracking the December 7 lighting of Mt. Diablo’s aviation beacon, a little east of San Francisco's bay. I came across a guy named Brandon at California State East Bay that's taken up an area of study a lot like the interdisciplinary field I'd carved out all on my own from a carrel desk at Hamilton Library in Manoa with The Science and Ethics of Equality, The Bell Curve, The Bell Curve Wars, and The Mismeasure of Man amid the books before me with a few free hours in the week. I would never call anything extracurricular quite the same way I would never call anything a vacation, even if it is. I have to call everything work. Connecting with people, and connecting with the landscape, the birthing stones in Wahiawa where royal heirs were born and the alluring new condominiums that are reaching higher and higher into the sky toward 737s with the word Southwest emblazoned on them approaching Honolulu's airport, towards one of rwys 26, right over the waterfront and the harbor on a Kona wind day, just the same. Just the same, I bear witness to Castle & Cook's Koa ridge breaking ground again and again, their “surban,” development, the last of the Luana’s CPR’s selling out as the first townhouses in Malina’s fourth phase are poised to draw offers. This is built on acres of land that are among the last vestiges of Oahu to develop with townhouses and single family homes, the kinds of structures we see builders framing and raising for us right at ground level, eye to eye. There’s a little left here and there, including in Ewa, Kapolei, in what you’d call West Oahu. To never see that happening on the land beneath our feet in Honolulu quite that way, one after the other, a piece of the west being readied to settle, again. We won’t see the CAT excavators at work and the concrete being poured into the ground for the ones who will inherit American prosperity on the highest plains in central Oahu.

Somehow, I always end up drawn into American history as it unfolds, if not writing it’s first draft, then living it.

And maybe it’s because among the things I know is there are two kinds of people, and only two kinds of conversations worth having. 

The first is the one at the shuttered La Mariana Restaurant on Sand Island with a few little lights on the harbor where an old chef on occasions like these, finds a reason to come back. It’s one of the last tiki bars in Hawaii, and on this night it’s just a few of us and I come in just after sunset and there’s little lights out on the bay, a fisher or two on a late return from the channel separating Kauai and Oahu, around 45 minutes later when I shake their hands and say I look forward to doing business. I never wanted much to do with developing subdivisions in Hawaii and sure we all heard of “The Big Island” but these guys at Castle & Cook and landowners under behind the DR Horton moniker in Kapolei and Ewa Beach, you know they’ve got the bulk of the pieces at their disposal and all they have to do is pull the trigger when the demographics, the indicators are going to start hitting the right bing bong bing bing winner alarm and, okay, now there’s gonna be this demand here and this demand here and we’re gonna draft up this template right here to make it attractive for all these guys to just flock in start buying it up. This many international, this many out of state that we know have these inclinations, they really wanna come back from Seattle or Oregon and we’re seeing even the guys in Phoenix, you don’t believe me Las Vegas, they’re eyeing getting on back to Hawaii now, and then we’ve got this many they’re going to turn around and rent and it’s gonna be good for them in this area and this many, it’s a really big number, these are the young folks that because this is low 400s and low 500s, they’re incredibly comfortable, they’re doing more work from home or whatever or they’re what we would have called Bishop Street royals and they’re lawyers, they’re getting a lot of work, and they’re bankers and we’ve got of course the engineers, we know why you need engineers, it’s a good thing we’ve got them in higher supply than architects, right? They’re going to step into home-ownership, the realtors are all telling them from when they’re in college you want to pay into your own equity not someone else’s as soon as possible, and we’re amid this epidemic, we have the fed with a target interest rate of 0-0.25 percent, they’re really holding, let’s get these lots selling. But about 10 minutes in, and you don’t waste my time, and these guys knew that, but they were laying it all down, and they knew what my questions were going to be. They needed me to underwrite half of it. They owned the land already and it was in a really, really good place. Not all the way up in Volcano and the view of Hilo bay from over here, it was like nothing else. 11 acres of lush Hawaii landscape and what was going to be the two to five bedroom models we had for folks, single story and two story. The houses there are pretty much 50s and 60s built around Hilo, or the modulars and single walls up the mountain the owners put there over the decades on the big plats in the big sections like Hawaiian Paradise Park, give that architectural and aesthetic feel even if it’s about a decade or two old. We were going in with something new for folks, and given the Oahu guys’ love of the outer islands, and they’re by in large fine getting off of here, used to using the Hawaiian Airlines 717s as commuter flights, and they’re even attracted to the 2nd amendment culture, hunting, and ranching you’ve got there up in Kamuela more and more, they don’t mind going there, especially since we’re still going to be very profitable at the 75k lower price points compared to what the Oahu developers are putting up. My funding gets them started on it at the right time and they’re going to use only the best designs and sell enough fast enough to keep the homes getting framed for the people that want those, and we agree we’re all getting something out of it a lot faster than financing 100 percent with the figures Wells Fargo’s got us for the construction loans. We’re cutting down the permit processing fees from the fat-cat scammers in Aloha Shirts and salt and pepper hair that wink at you and pretend to be the ones that can slide $100 into a commissioner’s jacket pocket, and we’re already in with the county, they tell me the council there’s already looking forward to partnering on the infrastructure because we can promise a neighborhood center right in the middle down a main parkway that’s really accessible for the surrounding communities, and I know their help is up for debate there, they’ve got all their anti-development squat and shit on the land factions, but when they move forward and do it on my terms, we can get Safeway or the KTA to open right in there and some really nice restaurants and to put some very elegant environments in the inside court and though you’re typically going to put a neighborhood mall inside the subdivision like this one. These guys, they’re thinking like me, we’re really going to bring something NEW to Hilo from the gamut of national chain restaurants, who knows, Cheesecake Factory, if they can drum up enough interest for it with these demographics we have, they’re going to have at it, or at least you’re going to have a local restaurateur leasing from us to do the Hawaiian style Nikos at Pier 38 surf and turf menu there with a nice layout like that, and we’re going to fill some smaller commercial spaces with Flores’ L&L kind of “plate lunch” places. So they’re going to move forward on MY TERMS. I tell them I need to see them move on a variance if they need it and get the plans pushed through right now for the mall, and it should have a drugstore too. What they were showing me, the stuff closer to Hilo Bay is just too far, and brick and mortar CVS or Walgreens, this is big for the people we’re going to cater to, even for the cosmetics, and Sally Beauty and Longs Drugs can duke it out. I look at the vacant land tracts surrounding it. We’re not going to be the last. What we’re building, they will come. We bring in commercial too, you need to run numbers on whether the second anchor is feasible, okay, fuckitol then. But we’re not half-assing Hilo. This is the stuff they hate, you’ve got inroads there, we do it big. Do it my way, I’m underwriting this. If not, it’s all over. Thankfully for Hilo, they get a check signed by me for $4.8 million to seal the deal. I insist on the lower price points, and I insist on making the builds high quality. For fun I get them to promise me, signed and in writing, right there, the water’s not coming from catchments. This is something new. Here at La Mariana, I invest in a limited partnership where I'm going to subdivide and develop Hawaii’s Big Island. And sure enough they move fast. I tell the cook this place should reopen and he should consider taking it over himself if he has to. What a menu. What happened with this place? I was very grateful for the linguine that I ate a quarter of during the whole thing when they had all these maps rolled out, and I trust you know champagne doesn’t exactly shoot out all over topless women’s breasts, large breasts, on private yachts, not here, and not there in the Sand Island marina. These are really classy people. And this cook knows a thing or two about it. The guys seemed really happy that night and I’m the last one out of there. I slap a couple bills right across the host’s counter before he was supposed to get to shutting off the lights and locking up. His white coat, the way it was heavily worn. But this guy’s a real worker. His name was embroidered into it, and it didn’t have a front pocket, so we keep everything over the table.  

There’s a problem with the word “power,” I know. Don Worley’s Power of Attorney is a perfect example. 

The second kind of conversation worth having is the one I would have with Annika whose startling blue eyes and angelic blonde hair was illuminated by the light of a crescent moon on the other side of the sky of rain clouds that had just parted from us and the Honolulu’s skyline with a few little lights in the windows long after sunset on the other side, where Dillingham Boulevard met Liliha Street ran King Street ran for the east from Kalihi and ran for the west from those skyscrapers behind us. She said she hailed from Manheim. Could you call that a “smart” place? Google La Jolla and it’s apparent they’ve gotten into the business of putting my statistics together for me showing where high IQ individuals are concentrated. 

I work in the lab of Joe “Reymus,” Annika said, “at UH Cancer Center.” Exactly how she pronounced it. And indeed, it’s quite a project she’s on. And so we’re going to talk next about parties, rape, sales contracts and money. If you don’t already know it, biochemists, medical doctors, physicists, these really smart, real brain kind of girls, for better or worse, they’re to me what Miss Universe is to Donald J. Trump.

[s-n-arly]

92 Things

I was tagged by @hailkuvira (sorry it took me so long to get to this - I am so disorganized right now!).

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag some people

THE LAST: 1. Drink: black tea with honey and cream 2. Phone call: My mum 3. Text message: To and from my estranged (sadly) sister wanting to verify that my son e-mailed her (she hasn't seen him in nearly three years and didn't realize he'd expanded his social interaction to e-mail) 4. Song you listened to: No Mercy (my kids were binge listening this morning) 5. Time you cried: Last time I cried was in April, when the principal called to tell me that my brilliant but socially delayed daughter had been suspended from the bus.  Last time my eyes leaked, but I didn't really cry was when Argh was turned to stone in Trollhunters (because I'm a softie, and I loved Argh).

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: Nope 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Errr, not really.  Kissed someones and later realized it was poorly thought through 8. Been cheated on: Not to my knowledge 9. Lost someone special: Several 10. Been depressed: Twice; senior year in high school (my friends had all graduated and I hated HS) and about a year ago (after many months of a crappy job situation, which culminated in me losing my job) 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Nope.  Been drunk, but always stopped before I hit barfland.

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: I love ALL the colors, but I'm going to go with... 12. Yellow 13. Blue 14. Red ... because I can get any color from these.

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: Yes!   16. Fallen out of love: Nope, which is good since I'm married. 17. Laughed until you cried: Nope.  It was not a funny year. 18. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes.  And it was pretty ugly 19. Met someone who changed you: Not in the last year 20. Found out who your friends are: Already knew, they've showed up in rough times in the past. 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: Yes.  The spouse is in there.

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: On my personal account, all of them.  On my pro writer account, I've met 90% (mostly at conventions) 23. Do you have any pets: Two delightful shelties 24. Do you want to change your name: I used to loathe my name.  No one could remember how to pronounce it.  It was "weird."  It didn't feel like it belonged to me.  That all changed between high school and the end of university.  I love my name now. 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: Is it sad that I had to look at my calendar because I had no idea?  Apparently I completed first aid and CPR classes online, met with the Student Assistance Team at my daughter's school, and went to my favorite Indian restaurant with my family and my parents. 26. What time did you wake up: 3:54 AM.  I usually get up between 4 and 4:30, so this gave me time to snuggle the little sheltie. 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Sleeping. 28. Name something you can’t wait for: There's nothing I "can't wait for," but I am looking forward to the kids going to camp for a week this Sunday. 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: 4 days ago. 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: I wish I could make a living off my fiction 31. What are you listening right now: A local public radio station (The Current) that is best described as eclectic. 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: There have been several Toms in my life. 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: All the clutter in my house.  OMG, I've been trying to get rid of it for YEARS and it just keeps reproducing. 34. Most visited Website: Tumblr and AO3.

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 35. Mole/s: Back of my neck 36. Mark/s: Cafe au lait birthmark on the back of my thigh, capillary hemangiomas (red freckles/moles), a few freckles, a bunch of scars, and random bruises 37. Childhood dream: To be a pharmacist like my dad. 38. Haircolor: Brown with some silver 39. Long or short hair: Long, but considering lopping it off again 40. Do you have a crush on someone: Eh.  Not really 41. What do you like about yourself: I'm creative 42. Piercings: Ears, two in each lobe 43. Bloodtype: Ergh.  Can't remember. 44. Nickname: Snarly, Snarls, Freedom Shamrock, Mamma Longlegs, Lurch, Shareemian, Obscene Shareen, Mooskers, Moo, Little Spoon, Sharlamoo, Shark 45. Relationship status: Married 46. Zodiac: Virgo 47. Pronouns: she/her 48. Favorite TV Show: I don't watch a lot of TV, but I am eagerly awaiting more Trollhunters, How to Train Your Dragon, and Miraculous Ladybug 49. Tattoos: wolf and moon on the back of my left shoulder.  Have wanted an arm band for ever, but haven't settled on a design. 50. Right or left hand: Both 51. Surgery: C-Section. 52. Hair dyed in different color: Nope.  Can't handle most bleaches or dyes 53. Sport: casual biking, x-country ski (when there's snow), yoga, karate 54. (question wasn’t here) 55. Vacation: I love vacation, but these days I often find the planning and arranging SO stressful.  I'd love to go to New Zealand, China, or Ireland, but we're currently a bit too poor. 56. Pair of trainers: Brown Merrill approach shoes?

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: Love food.  Vegetarian. 58. Drinking: Lots of tea.  Some milk and soymilk.  Beer (ale or lager, no pilsners).  Whiskey and 7up. 59. I’m about to: work on a fanfic that's taking toooo long 62. Want: To figure out how to handle the chaos better 63. Get married: Been there.  Done that. 64. Career: I'm a writer, now for both my paid career and my artistic-pays-crap not-a-hobby-side-career

WHICH IS BETTER

65. Hugs or kisses: I like both.  It depends on the mood and who I'm with 66. Lips or eyes: Eyes 67. Shorter or taller: Eh?  Not sure what is meant by this, but I'm tall enough that most everyone is shorter 68. Older or younger: Both.  I have friends who are much, MUCH younger (late teens and early twenties) and friends who are older (60+).  I like being around a diverse group, because there are more ideas and perspectives to share 69. There was no question here, so I’m guessing this is referencing The 69, so yeah. 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: My arms look nice, but don't work right.  My stomach is squishy because I had two babies (and one had to be surgically extracted); despite what society says, my stomach is better. 71. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive 72. Hook up or relationship: Relationship. 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: Troublemaker

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: Yep 75. Drank hard liquor: Copying Hailkuvira's, "What are we, 12?"  I just ran out of whiskey, and it makes me sad; I have other options, they aren't my faves. 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I've never lost my glasses, but they were once stolen 77. Turned someone down: Yes 78. Sex on the first date: No 79. Broken someone’s heart: Unfortunately yeah. 80. Had your heart broken: Yeah. 81. Been arrested: No! 82. Cried when someone died: Yes 83. Fallen for a friend: Nope

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: Yep 85. Miracles: No, but my mom does. 86. Love at first sight: No.  But I believe in intriguing someone at first sight. 87. Santa Claus: I am Santa Claus.  Ssssh. 88. Kiss on the first date: Sure.

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: Steve (the hubby is the best friend) 91. Eyecolor: Brown 92. Favorite movie: There are too many good movies, I can't even.

I low pressure tag: @youcancallmecirce, @squirrellygirlart, @emberglows, @chel-burr, and @seasonofthegeek

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #87

“i wanted more than life could ever grant me.”

if you could would you take back your last kiss?  i sure would. is the last person you kissed, going to be the next person you kiss? definitely not. how long was your longest make out?  like... hours. if you told someone how far have you have gone with the opposite sex, how would others view you? honestly? i'd be called a prude by most. do you think love lasts forever? not always where will you go for your next holiday? mom wants to go to tennessee to see my brother. where was the last place you had a romantic dinner?  i don't recall. how many colleges did you attend?  two what are your thoughts on gas prices?   i've seen worse. it's been over $4 once. does your shirt have buttons? no. what was the name of your first boyfriend? aaron do you ever get carsick?  i never have. do you ever read things you wrote as a kid? what were you like? oh my god... i haven't in a long, long time because i was so cringey. would you be content to turn out just like your mom?  no, honestly. if humans could have their eyes be any color in the world, which color would you want? hmmm... purple, maybe? red? pink? do you think it’s possible for an 18 year old to be ready to get married? honestly? no. you need to mature more before you make that dedication. ever been kissed by a legal adult when you were a minor or vise-versa? yes, actually. ever been kissed by someone you didn’t want to kiss?  see above. have you ever given or received an obvious hickey? not too obvious. but that doesn't mean it wasn't seen lol o o p s where did you lose your virginity, if you have? i haven't. does it snow where you live? like once every other year. what flavor was the last ice cream you ate? chocolate would you rather vacation by a beach or a lake? beach, i guess. do you like folk rock? no. do you hate it when people post statuses on facebook like “today was amazing” “i’m off to bed”? "i'm off to bed" particularly annoys me. because no one cares. do you like the show "drake and josh"? SO MUCH who’s your favorite disney princess and why? i'm not really certain, but i'd say jasmine. it was ariel when i was a kid. do you like celery and peanut butter? i hate celery. do you like pulp-y orange juice? i can't drink orange juice with pulp in it. i gag. do you still have your tonsils? yes. do you prefer the old or new willy wonka film? i prefer the new one. do you think cow tipping is funny or cruel? very, very cruel did your high school principal know you by name? i highly doubt it. what’re your greatest weaknesses? i'm not confident at all. what about your greatest strengths? i guess that i'm dedicated? are you in love and if so, are you in a relationship with them? sadly i am not dating mark fischbach lmao if you had to choose, what would you say your favorite thing to do is? write or play games. what’s your biggest passion? meerkats and mark are pretty much tied. i am a sad human being. what or who is the most important thing or person in your life? probably my mom. when was the last time you felt particularly depressed? when i had a ptsd breakdown like a month ago. who’s your favorite person? i have said his name too many times in this survey lol what’s your biggest ambition? go to the kalahari desert and photograph meerkats. assuming you ever liked pokemon, which one is your favorite? ninetales! have you ever collected cards of any kind? pokemon cards as a kid. do you honestly have any feelings at ALL for anyone? i'll always have "feelings" for him. but that doesn't mean i love him anymore. if you could go back to 3 years ago and live it over would you? no. because i doubt i could survive my breakup twice. do you plan to moving out within the next year? no. do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? doubt it. when is your birthday? february 5th. who are your best friends? the closest thing i have to a best friend is sara. what do you think about people who cheat? they're pretty low to do such a thing. when angry, do you get loud or quiet? i can do one or the other. have you ever been in a secret relationship? kinda. ever been in a car accident? yes. are you afraid of the dark? no. are you a good driver? no. i'm too anxious to be a good driver. who do you wish you would never see again? why? rachel, and because i'm sure she's still a motherfucking bitch. have you ever experimented with drugs? which type and what happened? no, and i don't plan to. what’s your greatest insecurity? my weight. now that i'm off abilify though, i'm losing quite a bit. have you ever been hospitalized? what for? yes, for suicide attempts and being suicidal. how long does it take for you to take a shower? not even 15 minutes. i don't understand how people can take such long showers?? like do your shit and get out. do you like the smell of gasoline? fuck no. gives me a headache. how many kids do you want to have? i only ever want furry and scaly babies. have you eaten an apple today? no. i doubt i'm ever gonna be able to eat one again comfortably, though, now that my lip's re-pierced in the middle. i can't even drink from soda cans. who was your 3rd grade teacher? mrs. britt would you ever tattoo the name of a bf/gf or spouse on yourself? nope, never. how awkward are you? to the fucking max. favorite fast food joint? bojangle's. ya'll outside nc don't know what you're missing. what would you do if your ex contacted you? jason? answer him. tyler? ignore him. last time you had anal sex? never have, NEVER want to. vodka, whiskey, or rum? i wouldn't know. i'm not sure i've ever had any of them? do you know cpr? no. but i really should learn. what age would you like to have a child?  preferably never. are your parents wealthy?  hell no. your nickname? most people online call me ozz, or just my real name. pick one state you’d love to live in? utah. how many pets do you want? and of what?  more than anything, i want a ball python morph. i also want another lizard, but i'm not sure what kind. i'd love an akita inu or papillon, or maybe a saint bernard (i'd need a bigger house or yard for that, though). i also want a sphinx soooo badly. a ferret would be nice, but idk if i could handle something with so much energy. i want a lop-earred rabbit, but i know i'd best not, because their cages require sooo much maintenance. i also would like a cockatiel, but i doubt i'll ever actually get a bird. what if you stopped orgasming for the rest of your life? i honestly wouldn't care. i never have before, so i mean i could live the rest of my life without it. your favorite breakfast food? pancakes. but they have to be well-made pancakes. is the last person you kissed a virgin?  probably not. have you ever let someone be your everything?  yeah. don't ever do that. do you believe that everyone deserves a second chance? nope. last person you kissed?  tyler. regrettably. what is the last song you heard? the acoustic version of "another song about the weekend" by ad2r are you nice to everyone?  i try to be, but i guess realistically i'm not. do you crack your knuckles a lot?  i never do. they don't crack. is the taste of beer good to you? never tried it, never want to. the smell is awful enough. do you think extensions look fake? sometimes. are you high? never been high. compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder? WAAAAAY happier. is there a girl that knows everything about you? i don't think so, no. have you ever played slender?  the phone app, yes. never got into it. do you find it offensive when people use terms like retard?  honestly, yes. maybe it's stupid, but it's a personal trigger of mine. i just think it's very rude how often that term is misused. retardation is not a joke. do you have a weak stomach? nah. what age group do you find the most annoying?  like 12-15. do you believe in evolution? nope. do you prefer listening to music out loud or through headphones? headphones. do you think that you’re smart? i used to. i was an a student in school, only sometimes getting a b in high school. idk whatever happened. do you read creepy pasta? if not, you should. nope. "never say never," do you prefer the one by justin bieber or the fray? the fray, of course. have you ever vandalized? no. have you ever felt you were the “random face in the yearbook”?   of course. what is your religion?  creationist christian which do you remember more: insults? or compliments?  insults, definitely. do you like eating chocolate covered cherries or strawberries?  strawberries, yes.  well actually... i did try chocolate-covered cherries once, and they were fine.   but it's weird, because i hate cherries? ever had a really scary dream? tell me about it.   i'd rather not.  my two worst nightmares ever include my dad, and they happened after the divorce. would you rather have pasta or chicken?   pasta. what's your favorite flower?   not entirely sure of my all-time favorite flower anymore.  i adore tiger lilies, and roses with a peach-pink gradient are absolutely wonderful. do you like spaghetti?  i love spaghetti. pick one: apples or oranges?   apples.  i hate oranges.  too bitter. what do you like better: sour or sweet candy?   if i had to pick, sour. would you ever tell your mom about the things you’ve done sexually?  i mean totally honest, i don't have much to hide, but i still wouldn't. would you rather pierce your tongue or lip?  lip, which is pierced. do you have an attitude?   i can. would you kiss someone to make your ex bf/gf mad?   no.  i'm not that petty. do you wear a ring on your finger?  on my right ring finger. what’s the last kind of soup you ate?   don't know.  i don't really like soup. so, the last person you kissed just happens to arrive at your door at 3 am, do you let them in?  nope. does it bother you when people smoke around you?  very much. ever kissed a smoker?   no, and i refuse to. honestly - have you ever written something on a bathroom stall?   nope. are you the oldest, middle, youngest, or an only child?   middle do you like the ocean?  yes, but i'm also scared of it. what do/did you normally get detentions for?   i only ever got detention for too many tardies. are your ears gauged?   no.  i don't like ear gauges. are you moving soon?   no.  we just moved like two months ago. if you could move (and SERIOUSLY think about this) where would you move?  to the mountains of nc. have you ever cut your own hair?   nope. have you ever had a close friend/family member die?  a close family friend, rather.  i was a child and didn't fully "get" that she was totally gone. did you ever have a ‘security blanket’ when you were younger?   yep.  it was covered in baby animals. what is your all time favorite band?   if i had to pick only one and one alone, it's always going to be ozzy osbourne. what time does your dad usually wake up in the morning?   i don't live with my dad. how many prescription pills have you tried?   i don't like how this is worded.  like... i haven't "tried" anything in that sense.  i've been prescribed like around 20 in my whole life. do you know anyone who has died in battle?  no. when did/are you graduate high school?  2014 would you ever get an abortion?   NO. what is one word you can’t stand?  ugh.  "cunt."  i'm not even comfortable writing it. do you snore?   not to my knowledge. do you chew on straws?   no. can you blow a bubble?   yes. can you do a cart wheel?   no. can you wiggle your ears?  no. can you touch your tongue to your nose?   no. last baby you held?   ryder, my nephew. are you a flirty person?   no, generally. to you, is feeling a ‘connection’ important on the first date?  yes.  like i don't expect a massive connection, no, but you need something. do you kiss on the first date?   nope. m&ms or skittles?  usually skittles. are you the kind of person that takes pictures with a drink in your hand?   nope. is the thing you regret the most unspeakable?  i mean not really.  but i still don't talk about it. if you HAD to change your eye color what would it be to?  green. here’s $500, what do you spend it on?   a tattoo, probably. would you rather be librarian or a stripper?  librarian.  under no circumstance would i be a stripper. are you comfortable with your height?   sure. have you ever been stung by a bee?   no, actually. hottest teacher you ever had?   mr. sarina *swoons*  ... funny story, he got charged for having sexual relations with a minor some years later lmao do you have a house key?   yeah. does your house have a fireplace?   no. are there ever tornadoes where you live?   super rarely do you like watermelons more or cherries?   i honestly don't like either.  but if i had to pick, watermelon. do you think you are an argumentative person?   definitely not. was the last person you kissed physically attractive?   if you want honesty, no. can you listen to music and read at the same time?   only if it's instrumental. do you know anyone that owns horses?   yes. do any medical afflictions run in your family?   high blood pressure, high cholesterol, depression, and bipolarity, schizophrenia, and cancer are in question. what’s your favorite mexican dish?   i hate mexican food. have you ever been to a professional sports game?   hockey, yes. how far do you live from new york city?   at least 10-11 hours. do you prefer pads, tampons or something else?   tampons.  i can't do pads.  i don't want to wear a bloody diaper. how many boyfriends or girlfriends have you ever had?   only one that was serious.  one less-than-24-hours misunderstanding, one puppylove, and tyler... fuck dude idk what he was.  i'm not even comfortable calling him a boyfriend. what’s the name of your first real boyfriend or girlfriend?  jason. do you clean your ears daily?   not daily, no. what’s the best job you’ve ever had?   i've never had an evenly remotely good job. how about the worst?  dollar store cashier.  holy fuck no. have you ever visited someone in prison?   no.  and i wouldn't be able to, if they were justly convicted. do you own any animal print clothes?   no. do you like chick-flicks?   sometimes. favorite funny movie?   "white chicks" omgggg what is your favorite kind of berry?  strawberry do you have any tattoos? tell me about them.  my first is a semicolon butterfly that is tribute to both the semicolon and butterfly projects.  my second is "perfectly flawed," which is an otep song that tends to make me feel a bit better when i'm down.  my third is "ohana," but the "o" and a slanted semi-circle thing makes a heart.  my most recent is the quote "how rare and beautiful it is to even exist" with a crescent moon-ish shape behind it. have you ever had casual sex?   fuck no. do you drink diet or regular soda?   regular.  diet sodas give me a headache. have you ever been to europe?   no, but i would fucking love to. do you like fruit and vegetable combo juices?   you mean like, v8?  i like the fruit ones.  i can guarantee i'd hate the vegetable ones. have you ever blocked someone on facebook? why?  yep, and because she was verbally threatening me. were your grandparents present when you were born?  i don't know. have you ever played the game angry birds?   no. do you own any jewelry containing your birthstone?   yes. what condiments do you like on hamburgers?  a little bit of ketchup and mustard. are you claustrophobic?  in 90% of situations, yes as fuck. around what time do you usually eat dinner?  as early as 5:30 to like 8:00.  whenever mom makes something. do you like foods with coconut in it?   no. do you like carrots more if they’re raw, or cooked?   i hate carrots. did you play with legos as a kid?  no, but i did play with lincoln logs. is there a food that you love the taste of, but makes you feel sick?   bananas.  i get heartburn from hell itself almost immediately. have you ever visited your country’s capital city?  no, but we've driven very close to it while driving up to new york. what’s your favorite kind of mint? (peppermint/wintergreen/spearmint/etc.)   peppermint have you ever been to ohio?   yes.  dad's family is there. what is your last name’s heritage/country of origin? scotland. is the area in which you live flat, hilly, or mountainous?   flat. have you ever logged onto a boyfriend/girlfriend/crush’s social media account?   nope. have you ever had a eating disorder?   no, thankfully. how many proms have you been to in your life?   two. do you like polar bears?   yeah! do you know who your latest ex is dating?   i don't know and don't care who he's dating, if he is at all. have you ever had bronchitis?   no. are you afraid of snakes?   not at all.  i mean i'd obviously give a venomous snake its space because i don't want to die, but in general, snakes don't scare me. when’s the last time you saw a rat?   not since i had pet rats. what is your ringtone?   "telescope" by starset.  it's about time i changed it, but getting music onto my phone is such a bear. what’s your favorite symbol/character associated with halloween? (black cats, ghosts, bats, etc)   BATS! what’s your favorite gemstone?   dragon's breath opal. is that also your birthstone?   no.  my birthstone is amethyst.

[gobvo]

Here’s our favorite threesome cpr. A quick messy sketch.

Based on some meme worthy pic.

[gobvo]

Here are some of my fics, I wrote. Posting them here cause I received comments recently for some and i realized that a bunch turned 1 yo in October/November. Time truly flies...

It's an eclectic collection of various ships. Beware some if not most have Mature or Explicit ratings.

First one is well, the first fic i wrote for LOP. A dumb and short little ficlet about the Specter getting "thanked" by P for saving his life.

This second one is Carmeo goodness. A fun romp following the drunken adventures of our two favorite best bros with benefits.

This one is a oneshot about P/Venigni. Penigni comfort food.

Promeo oneshot about memory retrieval and the "difficulties" of being reincarnated in a puppet body.

This fic "The boy" is the second longuest fic i wrote and it's an au. Penigni because of course. It's in hiatus for now.

Both Promeo and Carmeo for this one. Oh and it's ABO Omegaverse so beware. (Absolute unapologetic trash heap of a fic)

And last but not least, A Negroni for Two. This bad boi is my longest fic to date. On hiatus as well, I'm not writing a lot rn. Kinda burned myself out tbh. Oh and it's CPR or Romeo is ummm...pursued? stalked by the baby boys... It's a modern au.