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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year ago

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Non-Sibi Sed Patriae

Chapter Eleven of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: What does Bradley mean by "Uncle Mav"? You're not sure you understand. It was inevitable that Bradley and your dad meet. But what would the likelihoods be that they would already know each other? If it's any consolation, Jake seems to be just as confused as you are. But you have a bad feeling about this. Would coming clean to your fiancé mean the end of your relationship?

Themes: love, attraction, angst, sex, cheating, lying

Warnings: Bradley is a little mercurial. He's rude, okay, to both Mav and Linley. This is where the events of TG 1986 come in. Casual cursing.

Word Count: 2794

A/N: Bradley's in Alabama and he's definitely causing some issues. My thanks to @desert-fern who helped me come up with the callsigns Mav gives to Linley and Jake. I hope you all love this chapter!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

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You're sure you have whiplash. First, you have the emotional upheaval of seeing Bradley on the field, with Jake dogging his footsteps. Why is he in Alabama in the first place? It doesn’t look like he’s willing to tell you, either. That upheaval is followed by the quiet devastation on Jake’s face. You can’t understand Jake Seresin. A part of you is sure you never will. He signed the divorce papers and told you to get out of Alabama. You’re doing what he wants, so what right does he have to be angry?

Then Bradley is kissing you. You try to melt into it, everything in you rejoicing at the sight and smell and feel of him. But it doesn’t feel the same as it did on the night you got engaged. Not in the slightest. Something’s missing. There is a spark between you that seems to have evaporated into thin air. What’s worse is how you seem to know exactly where that spark has gone, right to your soon-to-be ex-husband. That has to be the only reason why the pain in your chest feels like you’ve been trampled by a rampaging herd of cattle, right?

As if the sick love triangle you’ve found yourself in isn’t enough, there’s the devastation on Bradley’s face as he chokes the words ‘Uncle Mav’ out. Mav? Mav?! Why the hell is your fiancé calling your dad by the short form of his callsign? He left the Navy a quarter century ago, after all. Your dad left all of that behind when he left the Navy. Why wouldn’t he tell you he had more people he considered family? You know all about your Grandpa Duke and Grandma Maisie, about the struggles your father went through after your grandfather passed away. You know about how your Grandpa Duke lost his life saving his squadron. You even know why your dad joined the Navy and then why he left the service shortly after you were born. Hell, your godfather himself is still serving in the Navy, flying jets with the vast majority of the men you call uncles. But he’s never once mentioned Bradley Bradshaw. He’s never mentioned anyone named Bradshaw at all.

“Hey, Baby Goose.” There’s something unreadable in your dad’s face as you stare between both of the men - one who is a pillar of your life and one who is quickly becoming one. “You look good, kid.”

“Wish I could say the same about you, Mav.” There’s shock in Bradley’s voice, tension thick and cloying in a way wholly unrelated to the crush of the crowd surrounding you. The two of them are steps away from each other, and unsurprisingly, that leaves you and Jake on the outskirts of this game, this domination play your father, and your fiancé have found themselves in. “You got old, old man.”

There’s a cruel smirk on Bradley’s face, and your dad actually looks sad and old for the first time. All of his vibrancy has drained away just at the sight of your fiancé. “You could have come to see us sometime after Dad, you know?”

“I couldn’t do it.” Your dad can barely say the words.

“Why’s that, old man? Could it be that you couldn’t face your mistakes? That you couldn’t face what you did to my dad?” This is a Bradley Bradshaw that you’ve never met before. He’s cruel, calculating, and cold. For the first time, you see Carole in his usually warm, open face. His words, his tone, sting like an open-palmed smack to your cheek, leaving uncomfortable warmth behind as your dad gawps, his throat working as he tries to speak. The silence is harsh and uncomfortable, electricity crackling between Bradley and your dad.

It has you taking a step back, the raw hatred making you feel uncomfortable in a way you never have before with either man. You can’t pick sides. Not between the man who has given you everything you’ve ever wanted, who has safeguarded your life like it’s more precious than his own, and your fiancé, your Bradley, your sunshine when you feared that love and hope were both lost. How can you possibly choose? You take another step back and another, praying that the milling crowd will swallow you up. But instead, you collide with a firm, warm body.

Usually, you'd be apologizing for bumping into a stranger, but you know who it is. It's Jake, standing at your back like a bulwark, silent support exuding from every pore.

"What's going on, Lin?" You blink, not expecting the spicy scent of his cologne surrounding you and the heat of him as he murmurs into your ear.

"I dunno," your voice is equally quiet, "I think Dad knows Bradley. But not just as my fiancé, as something else. Bradley called Dad ‘Uncle Mav’."

"Like his old Navy callsign?" Your face crumples at the reminder that you still don't know what Bradley Bradshaw has to do with your dad other than being your fiancé. But before you can say a word, he murmurs on. "Hey, d'you remember that one day when he gave us our callsigns?"

That you remember, and it’s a saccharinely sweet thought that has you smiling despite yourself. It had been a syrupy, slow summer day. School was out for the summer, and it had been for a few weeks, if you remember correctly. The cicadas buzzed in a chittering roar that seemed to rise and fall with the hot summer breeze rustling through the trees. You were lying in the hot, dry grass with a sketchbook, coloring pencils, and markers surrounding you. Jake was upside down with his legs against the tree trunk you were both sitting under. It was one of those torturously slow, hot days. But neither of you minded, not as long as your dad was there telling stories about his time at the Navy. The story of his call sign was one that both of you had heard a million times, but it was one you could hear over and over again.

“Dad?” You'd asked, every movement you make languid, your muscles feeling like overcooked spaghetti under the sweltering heat of the sun. “How come we don't have callsigns?”

You were only twelve or thirteen years old, and there was nothing that seemed more important.

“Well, usually, your training cohort would give you your callsign, kiddo.” Your dad had looked at the two of you under the tree with not a little bit of amusement as he wiped the grease off of his hand. “But, since there isn’t a cohort here to give you yours, how about I give them to you?”

Jake had sat upright so fast that he nearly bowled the both of you over. There were leaves in his hair, and dirt streaked on his cheeks as the both of you had focused your attention on your dad.

“What about Hotshot for you, Lin?” Before he had even finished the phrase, you’d been nodding your head. “And I was thinking about Tip for you, Jake.”

Jake had tipped his head sideways as he’d thought. “Why Tip, sir?” He still calls your dad, sir. He has for most of your life.

“Well, I settled on Tip for you because Linley rushes into things. Between the two of you, you’re the cautious one.” A part of you still thinks that your dad made sense. “So I went with Tip as in Tip-Toe.”

You’re jolted out of your reminiscing by the hand that wraps around your arm. It’s Bradley, because of course it is, and his face is cherry red as he drags you through the crowd. His grip is punishing, his stubby nails digging into the flesh of your upper arm as you half-jog to keep up with his fast pace. You’re not sure where he’s dragging you because you’re pretty sure Jake dropped him off. Sure, you have your rental here, but Bradley doesn’t know where it is.

When he lets you go near the picnic tables at the edge of the field, there are angry red divots in your arm, and you’re sure you’re going to be bruised in the morning. He’s pacing in front of you, the pristine suit he’s wearing wrinkling with the force of his motions as he buries his hands in his hair. You’ve never seen him like this before. Even in the middle of the most stressful of press conferences, Bradley’s always smiling. He’s the epitome of calm under pressure. So, to see him like this is more than a little jarring.

You’re a little shocked by the rage in his gaze when he finally turns towards you as you sit on one of the picnic benches.

“So, sweetheart,” His voice is a growl as he glares at you. “When were you going to tell me that Maverick fucking Mitchell is your dad?”

You swallow and reach for his hand, praying that he’ll trust you enough to let you have it. The fact that he lets you take it gives you just enough courage to tell the whole truth about your family, at least for the first time in your relationship.

“I was going to tell you, I promise.” Your sigh is soft as you tug Bradley down to sit on the bench next to you. “I left Pigeon Creek seven years ago because I had a dream I wanted to achieve. Pretty soon after I got to New York, though, I realized that somebody called Linley Mitchell was too countryfied to make it big in the fashion industry. So I took on the nom de plume of Linley Floyd.”

Bradley has an oddly thoughtful look on his face as he looks at your interlaced hands. “So why didn’t you ever tell me that Floyd wasn’t your last name?”

“I-I.” You can barely catalog your thoughts. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

To your embarrassment, you’re sniffling a little. “I know what Carole is like. Reputation is one of the most important things in the world to her. Up-and-coming fashion designer, extraordinaire Linley Floyd of Greeneville, Alabama, is a better PR spin than trailer-trash Linley Mitchell from Pigeon Creek, Alabama, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t even try to tell you that you’re wrong - and that hurts inexplicably. “And as far as dad goes, I didn’t know, Bradley.”

He huffs disbelievingly at you. “Sure, you didn’t know. You’re telling me Mav didn’t tell you about how he ruined our lives?”

“I truly didn’t know, Bradley. Dad doesn’t talk about much of his experiences with the US Navy at all. He’s never told me the true reason why he left the Navy. He’s only told me that he left because I needed him as a baby.”

The kicked look on his face and his red-rimmed eyes are enough to have you slipping into Bradley’s lap. You’re a little surprised that he lets you get that close, honestly.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” If your tone is a little bit wheedling, well, you’re sure Bradley doesn’t even notice. His hands loop gently around your waist as he thinks. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse and grim.

“My dad’s name was Nicholas Bradshaw, his callsign, Goose. He was Maverick’s RIO in the Navy. They met at the US Naval Academy and were best friends on sight. Everything was perfect between them. They flew together, and they did everything together. Hell, Mav was my dad’s best friend when he married my mom. He was there when I was born. He’s my godfather, Lin. He was my parents’ closest friend. Then, the two of them were called to Top Gun, which is the most elite program for training fighter pilots, and they were both candidates for it. The competition was equally fierce. Everyone wanted their name on the trophy. So, there was a fair amount of showboating and flashy maneuvers involved. It was a thirteen-week training program, and the maneuvers were growing more and more challenging by the day.”

He looks far away as he tells the tale.

“Hop 31 was when everything seemed to go sour.” There’s a terror you’ve never seen on his face before. “They were flying with another pilot and his RIO, Iceman and Slider. The goal was to shoot down the enemy with the other team. Iceman wasn’t able to get into weapons envelope range, so Mav went in to take the shot. But he ended up flying through Iceman’s jet wash. The jet went into a flat spin, and the engines failed. Mav and my dad had to eject.”

There’s a sick feeling in your gut.

“But the canopy didn’t detach fully. My dad came out of that ejection with a severely compacted spine.” Your yelp is sharp as he shoves you off of his lap. Bradley’s gesticulating again, his eyes crazy as he yells into your face. “Mav could have flown if he wanted to after destroying my dad’s dreams. Nick Bradshaw was honorably discharged on medical grounds. He never flew in a fighter jet again. It was all Maverick Mitchell’s fault.”

“How was I supposed to know, Bradley?” Your heart hurts. Dad should have told you - or maybe you could have asked. “It was just an accident, right?”

“Hah!” His voice is filled with scorn as he scoffs at you. “The Navy may have ruled it so, but I don’t believe it. My dad was never the same again after all of that. He was a shell of the man he used to be. It was all Maverick’s fault. To top it all off, he came to visit us a couple of times after the crash but then never again.”

“Bradley?” Your voice is gentle as you try to get him to look at you again. “I’m sorry it happened like that. But I know my dad. He would never willingly or knowingly hurt the people he cares about. He hasn’t spoken once about what happened, and I think it’s because it still hurts him.”

“Yeah, well, obviously, we can’t say the same thing about you, can we?” You’re reeling. “After all, you could have told me the truth, and we could have worked through it. But I don’t think that’s possible anymore. What else are you going to tell me then?”

“Bob’s not really your cousin, and I think that’s apparent now. Is Jake a part of your family at all? Or is that another one of your elaborately contrived lies, Linley?”

Right when you don’t want him, of course, Jake shows up.

“Must be exhaustin’, huh, Linley?” He’s looking sad and angry, and there’s so much pain clawing its way through your gut.

“What?” Bradley barks out, obviously not liking that your private conversation has been interrupted.

“Well, Roo, you and I are in love with two different people.” You’re gasping for breath now, each one ragged and not providing nearly enough oxygen to shock you out of this spiral. That Jake’s calling Bradley ‘Rooster’ means he’s seen the articles about Bradley’s playboy days.

“So what, then? Is he a second cousin of yours, Lin?” There’s something that looks a lot like open contempt on Bradley’s face as he looks Jake up and down.

That insult is what prompts you to choke the words, “He’s my husband,” out. Of course, the moment you drop that bomb, Bradley’s wheeling away from you like you’ve struck him.

“So what, Linley?” He’s chuckling cruelly. “Are you telling me you married your cousin?! I know Alabama’s got a reputation for that, but I didn’t think it was actually true!”

To your shock, you’re dashing away tears. “No, Bradley. I came down here to finalize my divorce.”

He looks like you’ve smacked him in the face as he stares at you. Then he whirls around and walks away.

“Bradley, wait!” God, you have to fix this. You love Bradley. You still want to marry him.

“Wait!” But he’s not listening, choosing instead to walk away like you’re not important to him at all.

“I just…. Please!” You’re pleading, practically begging, but he’s not budging. He doesn’t even seem to care when you trip and nearly fall on the grassy ground. “Let me try and explain myself!”

Finally, he stops and looks at you. That cold, very Carole-like look is on his face again as he looks at you.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what else you lied about, but I know one thing…” Rage makes twin spots high on his cheeks. “There is a Learjet in Mobile waiting for me, and I’m on it.” He turns around and stomps away. Bradley doesn’t even turn around when you scream his name.

“Shit.” What is it with fucking Alabama destroying all of your relationships?!

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

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#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #sweet home alabama #a top gun au #star's sweet home alabama top gun au #jake hangman seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc

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brevityisnotmywit · 3 months ago

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Soldiers Of The Fall Series (RvB)

General Warnings: Locington, Angst

3 Fics

WAR

CW: Nightmares, Coping,

The first note is discovered when Locus is going through his current alias’ mailbox. The paper isn’t crisp, but there’s a clear exactness to the way it’s folded over itself. The same can be said of the cryptic contents within.

[‘Do you remember standing on a broken field

White crippled wings beating the sky

The harbingers of war with their nature revealed

And our chances flowing by’]

-We need to talk.

The writing is, at a glance, flawless. When Locus looks more closely, there’s a delicate tremble running throughout the pen strokes. The only thing that’s clear cut is that the bulk of it is made up of song lyrics. Probably some locals pulling a prank. A small part of him wants to save the letter, for some reason.

Locus elects to burn it instead.

---

He’s on another Earth-controlled planet when the datapad is slipped to him. The man hardly gets anything at this place, so he’s not ‘blown away’ when the text flickers to life. Unprepared, yes. Awestruck, no.

[‘If I can let the memory heal

I will remember you with me on that field

When I thought that I fought this war alone

You were there by my side on the frontline

When I thought that I fought without a cause

You gave me a reason to try ’]

-Not as hard to track as you think you are.

Well, if they found Locus predictable, they were going to learn just how elusive he could really be if he put his mind to it. The ex-mercenary leaves everything but his armor and vanishes into the night.

---

Locus has come to the understanding that his enigmatic letter writer is equally equipped to roam the universe as he himself is. The song gradually winds its was towards its end, be it on paper, digital media, or in one instance a singing-telegram service. (The poor sap almost pissed himself when Locus came to the door.)

If he can’t put a stop to it, Locus might as well put forth some effort in deciphering the meaning of it all.

While it was simple to find the song that contained the lyrics, Locus is doubtful it will help him in the long run. He’d started to pick up on a trend running through the whole debacle. Locus pulls out a pen, noting the underlined words and which notes they belonged to.

1st) WORDS- Remember, Crippled, Nature revealed, chances. NOTE- We need to talk.

2nd) WORDS- Memory, Will remember, Thought, Frontline, Thought, Try. NOTE- Not as hard to track as you think you are.

3rd) WORDS- Something new, Torn, Stunted view, Dogs, Memory heal, Remember. No note, just an outdated map of North America.

4th) SINGER- Kid handed me the directions he was given. WORDS- Thought, Alone, My side, Impossible, War, Without, Reason why. NOTE- Having a good trip through the stars?

Then the fifth arrived on a flashdrive. It was a clip of the rest of the song set to footage of Chorus. The words were superimposed over top of the video, underlines still present as in all before it.

[‘With no-one wearing their real face

It's a whiteout of emotion

And I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall

When the love in letters fade

It's like moving in slow motion

And we're already too late if we arrive at all

And then we're caught up in the arms race

An involuntary addiction

And we're shedding every value our mothers taught-]

Suddenly the video shifts to the footage of Felix monologuing to the-...no. There’s no way they could have pulled this off...could they?

[‘-So will you please show me your real face -]

Then it shows a scan of the North American map he’d been given. As the last of the words flash by, it slowly zooms in. By the time it stops, Locus feels like a fool for not connecting the dots sooner.

[-Draw the line in the horizon

Cos I only need your name to call the reasons why I fought.’]

The ending goes unheeded by Locus because the map is centered on Washington State. The theme of emphasizing terms relating to thought and memory all makes sense now. As if he was unsure if Locus had finally come to the solution himself, an all too familiar steel and yellow gauntlet slides a datapad into the feed of the map with clear coordinates. Below is a final, rather slyly worded note.

-Memory is the Key, Locus. Don’t keep making me wait.

---

When Locus approaches the rendezvous spot, he notices that someone (Presumably Washington.) had taken great care in selecting the site. It wasn’t in the middle of a field where snipers like himself would feel on edge. Yet, it isn’t caged in by the region's well-known mountain ranges. It was a fairly young forest, with trees unsuitable for gunners to take as vantage points.

Leave it to ever paranoid Washington to be sure he had at least some form of advantage, regardless of however minor it may be. Anything to compensate for that perceived lack of skill.

Speaking of the agent, Locus hears a shrill whistle and whips around. Washington is beckoning the cloaked man over, seemingly uncaring if it looked like he was waving at thin air to anyone who didn’t know better.

Locus hesitates before dropping his invisibility and it takes a shamefully large amount of restraint to suppress a childish pout. “I am unsure why I even bother at this point, if you just continue to spot me.”

"Can't be sure myself. " Washington’s voice sounds rough, like the bad end of a faulty transmission. It couldn’t just be the helmet to blame, not when Locus had witnessed the crimson spraying from the agent’s throat first hand.

Locus was pushing A’rynasea as fast as it could manage with one hand. The other was occupied with trying to keep pressure on Washington’s wounds. The agent lets out a wet sounding whine, struggling to move. Before Locus can push him back down, he makes out the man trying to speak.

“Mn? Mhn?” There’s not much beyond that, as the hospital looms ever closer in Locus’ line of sight

Locus hid, unseen by the staff and listened to what the doctor was going to report to the Reds and Blues.

“So he’s getting the hang of that new vocalizer I whipped up for him, now that he’s coming around from the anesthesia. Hey, Parker, did you catch the one that dropped him here?”

The medi-vac pilot glances at her like this was a frankly silly thing to ask, and shakes his head.

“Well that sure is a shame, huh? He keeps asking for us to go find Maine and wants to know what the deal with his new armor is!”

Locus freezes.

“Buuuut, he’s also having an ‘Autotune fight with the Autobots’ in his words, so it’s probably nothing!”

“Hey, Earth to Locus? You went all quiet. Not even your broody kind, either.” Washington has moved right up to the edges of Locus’ massive personal space bubble.

The former mercenary clears his throat, still coming off a touch sheepish. “My apologies, Agent Washington-”

“You know it’s okay to use Wash, right?”

Locus huffs a bit, looking off into the forest. “Why are we here?”

“Because you saved me.” The freelancer leans on a tree trunk, visor not hiding how he intensely watched Locus’ every move. “I’d like a chance to say thanks.”

“You tailed me across the cosmos to say that?”

Washington laughs like a worn down toy’s voice box. (Likely because he now spoke with one.) It wasn’t like the old footage Locus had snatched from the PFL servers. Before he would laugh in this breathy way that sounded like sunshine felt. Locus tries to shake that comparison from his mind, frowning.

“Of course I didn’t. You forgot to yank the standard issue GPS out of that new helmet of yours. Simmons gave me a hand in tracking it. I’d send you something once you stayed put for more than a month.”

“Fuck.” Locus hissed to himself. He was getting lazy now that Fel-...hmph.

Washington shrugs. “I’ve also got an offer for you.”

Locus waves in a ‘well don’t let me stop you.’ way.

“I’ve got a place you can use. I don’t stay there, so I want you to have it.” The agent kicks over a rock at his feet.

Locus scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t need your charity. I’m not poor by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Did I call you poor?” the older man challenges. “I’d feel better knowing you’re nearby.”

The ex-mercenary sighs, turning on his heel. “Is that all, Agent Washington?”

“For now. Here.” Washington chucks a ring of keys to Locus. “I know you have my contact info, so keep in touch, yeah?”

“We will see. Goodbye, Agent.”

“See you soon.”

---

Locus found the cabin convenient. He had no other reasons for why he stayed as often as he did. (He had many reasons.) It was well stocked with dry firewood, electricity, and a spacious kitchen to make it comfortable for extended use. The first time Locus wandered into the house, he was taken aback that the fridge was brimming with his favored foods.

Locus likes to think he’s not a fool. He’s mulling over the discovery in his mind when he hears the distinctive crunch of tires on snow. In an instant, he’s cloaked and slinks out the back.

There’s a beat up SUV out front and it doesn’t take a sniper's eye to spot Washington in civilian clothes sliding out of the cab. Locus silently stalks around so Washington is sandwiched between himself and his cabin. Locus knows better. Locus knows the agent is too aware of his surroundings, but still he reaches out for the freelancer’s throat as he checks his phone.

Just before he can make contact, “Evening, Loc’s.”

Locus goes still on the snowy drive. Silence reigns for many long moments. “Why are you doing this.”

Washington glances over his shoulder at the invisible sniper. “Because I’ve been there, Locus.”

“Not your problem.”

There’s a scoff, wispy clouds escaping Washington’s teeth. “I don’t care. You need someone on your side. I know I did.”

That gives Locus pause. His silhouette shimmers before fading into nothing. With some thought, he settles he hand hovering near Washington’s chin onto his shoulder. This soldier was watching out for him, the sheep standing guard over the sleeping wolf.

Locus finds the attention is not unwelcome.

---

Washington turns up a few weeks later, one small bag at his side. “I just need some time off from the Reds and Blues. Let me go set up the futon, can you get the fire going? A storm’s rolling in sometime tonight.”

Locus nods quietly, trying to stamp out the panic bubbling up into his throat. ‘Washington isn’t going to care about seeing your face.’ He scolds himself. ‘You get to see his face, it’s only fair.’

There’s a pathetic, rusty shriek of hinges when Washington pulls at the frame of the longer of the two couches. After a minor struggle, it gives up, flopping open The freelancer rasps out a chuckle. “Y’know, this is the only thing I have from before I enlisted. Kept it in a storage unit we all shared during PFL.” Something shifts in his tone so subtly it almost went over Locus’ head. “Everything here used to be in it. I couldn’t stand to see it rotting away in there.”

Locus glances around with a deeper understanding, and things make a bit more sense. “Are you willing to elaborate?” He asks while striking a match to set the tinder alight.

The futon creaks loudly when Washington sits on it. “Yeah, I can. The stuff in the kitchen came from pretty much everyone outside of Tex. Even the freelancers the Director didn’t give a shit about, Like West and Indi’s crew. The table was C.T.’s that’s why it’s covered up. She used to stab the shit out of it when she was learning knife skills. The butcher block is hers too, but she took good care of it for obvious reasons. The bed’s Carolina’s, didn’t even remember we had that unit when I asked to go get everything from it.” The older man smiles softly, staring up at the ceiling.

“York had the barstools, the chairs at the table were Wyoming’s. Florida had the other couch, and a few of the quilts. The deck chairs were from Illinois. North had a couple bookshelves. South had the footlockers and the old ass TV.” Washington's voice wavers, going faint. “...Maine had the rest of the blankets and the dressers.”

Locus resolutely focuses on arranging the logs, watching how the sparks swirl throughout the hearth.

“You look like him…” is whispered, as if the freelancer is scared to admit to it. “...but your skin is darker, less scars, more hair. Your eyes, they’re the biggest difference. His were like those little bits of amber they sell at museums.” Washington's voice trembles. “Sorry…”

Locus shakes his head. “Don’t be. It’s quite apparent he meant a great deal to you, so I consider it a compliment.” He sneaks a glance over his shoulder.

Washington has thrown an arm over his eyes, but the corners of his mouth draw up into a wistful smile. “That’s what I was going for with it.”

The fire pops, and the conversation ends.

---

Locus is startled awake by a panicked, broken scream. When he throws open the door, pistol in hand, he sees Washington arching off the futon, fingers clawing at the back of his neck.

“Agent Washington.” The ex-mercenary tries, stalking over to the freelancer. “Agent Washington!”

The noises that tumble from Washington can’t be classified as words. In the dark of night, it’s all too clear how lasting the damage had been. Locus can’t let this continue, lest Washington lose what little recovery he had. The man strides forward, grabbing an arm as it swings out without a thought.

Washington’s eyes fly open, still foggy with sleep. He expertly breaks Locus’ grip before twisting the younger man’s arm violently.

On reflex, Locus jerks away, thankful that Washington didn’t have the leverage or brute strength to snap his wrist. “ Wash! ”

The freelancer stills, blinking up at him in confusion. “Who?” He sounds even more off than before.

“You. I was speaking to you.”

“Use my name then, dipshit. You the new rookie, or something? Name’s Church, so get it right next time.” Washington scowls at him in a way that is very unlike himself.

Locus wished he was less understanding of what was going on, but the freelancer wasn’t the only one with wicked night terrors. In that mindset, anyone could lose themselves. The key difference was that Locus didn’t have someone else's memories to sift through. Maybe he could help somehow.

“No, I’m not a new recruit, and your name is not Church. You go by Washington. You are in your cabin in the middle of a snow storm.” Locus is treading carefully, wary of how the older man would react.

Washington just searches him with a haughty air of suspicion. “I’m just expected to buy into that?”

On a hunch, Locus points to the mirror hanging behind the living room. “Look at yourself, if you don’t.”

Washington tsk’s, lazily throwing a look over his shoulder, then double takes. “I-what the fuck?” Then he looks at his hands, flexing them many times, like they’re a puzzle in need of solving. Eventually, Locus can see the haze dissipate from his eyes. Once more he searches Locus for something only Washington knows.

“I had a nightmare, didn’t I?”

Locus nods, stopping Washington, predicting his reaction. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m glad I could help out.”

In the dark cabin, Washington looks so very small. His eyes are watery, catching the barest hints of light. “...Will you stay with me?”

There’s not even a fraction of hesitation before Locus says, “Of course.” He sits carefully at the edge of the futon, not expecting a trembling hand to close around his arm.

“Thank you.”

Sharing a bed with Washington is so fundamentally different from sharing a bed with Felix, it gives Locus emotional whiplash. Felix usually needled him relentlessly, only stopping when he had what he wanted from Locus. (Sex, usually.) When he eventually did sleep, Felix as always jabbing with an elbow or a knee, all points and hard edges.

Washington allowed Locus the space he always craved. All he seemed to require was to hold onto Locus’ hand until he fell back to sleep. That was some how intensely more intimate than anything Felix had ever done to Locus. Maybe it was that Washington let Locus decide for himself. It bothered Locus too much to think about it.

---

Locus learned many things from the year that followed.

Locus always felt the cabin was too big when Wash wasn’t visiting.

Wash showed up every other Sunday with fresh food.

Locus worried more than he should about Wash’s safety.

Wash had a caffeine problem.

Locus had adjusted to civilian life better than Felix said he could.

Wash liked to sit on the same couch as Locus, but didn’t touch without his permission.

Locus liked how Wash curled against his side when he did give permission.

Wash wanted to help him get better, but allowed Locus to decide if he was alright with going to a therapist.

Locus realized he might have gotten in too deep when he stopped calling Wash ‘Agent Washington’ in his head.

Wash liked Locus for the ways he wasn’t Maine, rather than liking him for the ways they were the same.

Locus liked Wash. He liked him quite a lot.

CHILDREN OF THE SUN

To say Locus was apprehensive about meeting the Reds and Blues was technically accurate. Accurate in the same way that a rocket could be called a big firecracker. There was a reason the ex-mercenary left after making certain that Wash was safe. He wasn't a foolish man by any means. After the clusterfuck of Chorus he had no intentions of ever contacting them. Life had other ideas, clearly.

Locus isn't sure why his ship started malfunctioning when it had, but it led him to Grif babbling like a lunatic to a set of sports equipment painted in a childish manner. When they'd taken off, the endless stream of questions about Locus’ intentionally secretive life began. Things the man never wanted to think about again under normal circumstances.

They meet at a coffee house that is a favorite haunt of Wash. He'd cashed in a favor and after it had officially closed for the night, the Reds and Blues were huddled inside to avoid the brutal January weather. Outside, Locus can see them from the window, able to mostly guess on their identities. Sarge was fairly obvious with his bright red polo and buzzcut. The tall one with thick, messy curls must be Caboose. Simmons arm gave him away, despite the long-sleeved sweater doing it's damndest to hide the well oiled chrome, though the long braid trailing over his shoulder was a surprise. Tucker was the one who tried to spend as little time as possible in his armor, so Locus was quite familiar with his cropped hair and dimples. Carolina was almost exactly how she had been in Freelancer. Shorter hair, but still red as fire. Grif was snoring away on a couch, with who Locus thinks must be the medic and some fellow in a pink parka.

He's startled from the old habit of memorising people's faces by a hand slipping into his. Wash glances up at Locus with one of those tired, lopsided smiles he seems prone to.

“C’mon. Let's get this done.” The older man inclines his head to the door, gently tugging Locus along.

The door chimes when Wash opens it and everyone's attention is on the pair in an instant. Locus’ lingering doubts snap at him. Mentally he chides himself, “ You agreed to this. You promised no armor, remember? Wash is right there, you’ll be fine.”

“What the fuck , why is Locus a trashy romance novel beefcake?!” Tucker balks, nearly spilling his drink over the table.

The room erupts in a mix of cackling and irritated demands for silence. Locus clutches Wash’s hand firmly, his desire to remain hidden growing into a nigh unbearable need. A sharp whistle slices neatly through the din.

“All of you shut up and pay attention.” Wash rasps irritably. “Locus isn't here for you to gawk at. You asked to meet him, so get on with it.” The Freelancer's calloused fingers tighten around Locus’ palm. At some point he had placed himself between the ex-mercenary and his comrades.

The sheep diligently watches over the wolf.

“Fine-” Tucker sniffs dismissively. “-how about what the hell were you thinking, running off like that?”

“I don’t-” Locus tries before Sarge snappily adds on.

“It ain't rocket science, kid. Y’ could’a stuck around fer a few days, at least. Hell, what if we needed yer help with Susie Spec’ Ops’ over there?” He grumbles, nodding to Wash.

The man in question looks offended, opening his mouth to interject when Caboose cuts him off.

“Oh oh! Can I also have another hug??”

Everyone throws dirty looks at the Blue trooper.

“So Tucker can call him a book but I don't get a nice hug?” Caboose pouts dramatically.

They drop the subject. Grif rolls over, unkempt hair flopping into his eyes. “Sup Locs. Sorry I went nuts on you before... actually I'm not, but whatever.” He shrugs a shoulder. “You probably do owe Simmons a 'good job’ since he helped Wash track your dumb ass.”

Locus glances over at Simmons, finding he isn't the only one who wasn't thrilled with the whole situation. The thin soldier wrings the tail end of his braid, practically jumping out of his skin at the mention of his name.

“I-It was no big deal, don't worry about it!” He stammers rapidly, shoulders hunching, giving the impression that he was sinking back into his turtleneck.

“It was a big deal, nerd!” Grif retorts, pushing away from the lumpy overstuffed sofa, arms folded across his chest. “You kept bitching about how it was gonna be a pain with our old tech!”

Before another squabble can break out, Wash lets go of Locus’ hand to intervene. There’s a clear exhaustion threaded along the bow of his spine. He’s holding his arms out, glaring at both of them. “Don’t start. I need everyone to cool it.” The Freelancer drags his fingers through his hair, sighing. “Let Locus get a word in too. This isn’t an intervention, it’s a conversation.”

The medic pipes up from the far end of the sofa. “This is pretty normal for us, remember?”

“Of course he remembers, what a stupid question.” Locus thinks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He’d grown used to Wash’s personality when it was just the two of them in that cabin. He wasn’t like the overly intense facade Locus had observed in the limited recordings of his time chasing the Meta. Not the intimidating soldier that had been sent after Epsilon, or the (admittedly lovable) goofball from the Freelancer era. He was quiet but shouted at the appliances when they didn’t work well. (The oven had been the target of many rants.) He didn’t sleep well but would pass out on Locus’ lap when they occasionally watched movies. He made dry-jokes, chuckling to himself quietly. He certainly wasn’t a pushover. They had argued like anyone with their histories would. Wash could be a force to reckon with if he was so inclined.

Yet here in this little room, he seemed to wilt. It was as though the intensity of these people made him lesser somehow. He didn’t feel able to fly his true colours. A memory flickers, triggering many more.

“I just need some time off from the Reds and Blues.”

“Hey, sorry, needed a bit of quiet time.”

“I’m fine, Car’s just...y’know.”

"I can't sleep, can we go do something?"

"I needed a peaceful place."

It’s just enough to push the ex-mercenary to speak.

Locus clears his throat, squaring his shoulders. Wash’s head snaps up, eyeing the ex-mercenary cautiously. “Normal changes sometimes. It isn’t exactly...efficient to argue all the time.”

“Part of our charm, numbnuts.” Tucker snorts, a snide smirk on his face. “Did you miss the memo?”

Locus wants to punch something.

He takes a breath instead. “It’s not the most charming habit, if you want my honesty.”

“Yeah, because killing people totally charms the underpants off’a folks!” The one in the pink parka taunts.

That thread holding Wash in check snaps in an instant. “Donut!”

The blonde jumps, upending his mug onto the floor.

“All of you can say what you want but Locus is trying. He’s known war just as long as we have, if not longer.” The Freelancer starts pacing (A nervous habit.) around an empty table. “We’ve all been assholes to each other so what makes him any different than me?”

“You weren’t a mercenary.” Carolina coldly states from the booth she’s taken over.

“I-” Wash stumbles over the tip of his boot, eyes a fraction too wide.

“You didn’t perpetuate a planet wide civil war, or spring a prison ship-” She calmly adds a finger for each reason, ignoring the way Wash tries to interject. “-You didn’t plot an elaborate trap to kill our troops, didn’t murder them, and you didn’t betray your own-”

The sheep had kept the wolf safe for so long now. Time to return the favor.

Locus steps between the two, putting a hand on Wash’s shoulder. “If I recall properly, Project Freelancer had just as bloody a record as I myself did. You may not have sent a government into death throes as was done to Chorus, but you did ruin countless lives. Wash and yourself are evidence of that fact.”

Carolina levels him with a glare, cheeks darkening. She starts to speak, but Locus isn’t exactly invested in hearing out her predictably fragile argument.

“From my research of the footage, you raided many innocent cargo vessels without thinking twice. Orders are orders . Right Agent Carolina?” Locus drones, brushing hair from his eyes. “While it was by no means as elaborate as what you’re alluding to, you and Wash have both done harm to these simulation troopers. If you want to argue that I’m wrong, I have numerous instances I can bring up. Though they weren’t fully successful, I have a remarkably clear clip of Wash shooting one of the Red troopers point blank in the stomach.”

“Oh yeahhhh, you did try to kill me Washy! I almost forgot about that…” Donut chuckles, scratching at his belly through the down coat.

Locus wasn’t sure why he didn’t remember this being the same soldier but it does give his words a solid weight with which to fight. Felix used to claim the best way to win an argument was when someone on the opposing side willingly vocalized you had a point.

“A point-” He claimed. “-is how a knife so easily slides into a beating heart.”

Not everything Felix had taught him was bad, it seemed.

“Maine.”

All eyes are on Wash again. Carolina blinks owlishly, tilting her head. “Wash what-”

“I betrayed Maine. I had a chance to save him, and I didn’t. I saved myself.” Wash glances over at the Reds and Blues. “I saved them. Not before I betrayed them, though. I took the offer that I was given for a chance at freedom. I turned on them, and…” He bites his lip, gaze drifting aside. “In all honesty, I didn’t feel bad about doing it. It gave me an insight into how the world really works. Everyone can be good and bad. They’re not a mutually exclusive thing. The Reds and Blues aren’t heroes, but they changed a lot of things for the better. They can be douchebags but also save a planet. I can be the mean Freelancer but also try and support these troops because I don’t have to pick one. I just have to adjust to what they need me to be. Maine wasn’t a monster but he made a choice at the end. I made my choice.”

Wash exhales, the very sound itself laced with deeply repressed hurt. “We promised we’d stop looking back Car’. That we would better ourselves. That’s why we all left. We needed time to be ourselves again. Not just soldiers, or war heros, or guns for hire. Just...us.” He looks up at Locus, a fleeting smile crosses his face. “ All of us deserve another chance.”

Locus stills, glancing to Carolina. He’s not expecting how steady his voice is when he starts. “I’m here to make amends. If that means you choose not to speak to me after this, that’s acceptable. All I need from you is to promise me you won’t intentionally prevent my goal from being reached.”

The room is by no means silent, Grif ‘whispering’ to Simmons, Caboose humming absentmindedly, Tucker sighing, Sarge grumbling a string of curses. It’s the quiet that Locus has come to associate with these troops. They always had something going on, but the fact that they thought to lower their typical volume meant quiet to them.

Carolina huffs softly, thumb running over a small metal object tucked into her palm. She looks up, sharp green eyes catching the light from the lamps overhead. “Fine. If you really want to do better, I won’t be the one to mess it up.”

On a rare impulsive whim, Locus asks, “I’d also like it if you tried to work on your relationship with Wash. He seems to almost cower when it comes to you. He deserves better than just playing dumb to avoid your temper.”

Wash startles under his palm, stammering. “I mean I-I don’t think you’re...I don’t-...uh…” He fidgets with the edge of his jacket until Locus gently nudges him forward, yet still keeping a protective grip on his shoulder. “I mean, playing dumb is kinda harsh, but Locus has a point.”

Hopefully the point hit home for once.

“We’re equals in this Car’. I’m all too quick to just give you the right of way because of the Freelancer days. I shouldn’t roll over and let you take responsibility for all our choices because that’s not how communication works. There’s only so much I can do, though. We should all feel free to ask for things. That we can speak up when we feel we’re being neglected. Car’...it’s time to let us grow up. We’re not kids any more.”

There’s an overly dramatic gasp from Caboose. “Whaaat?! You two were brother and sister this whole time?” His voice turns smug. “I knew it allll along, I said you know they don’t look it but I’m telling you Washingtub is Carol-Timer’s baby brother!”

Wash yelps, “Wait, what?! No! It was a metaphor, we’re not related! Also I’m older than her by a long shot!”

Caboose just keeps grinning and repeating, “I called it.”

The rest of the night went better, by the end Simmons had rigged a monitor to run some terrible movie called Thankskilling which had the room erupting in horrified laughter and repeated cries of ‘WHAT?!’. Wash ended up taking Caboose aside to make hot chocolate and they emerged with a stack of paper and a fistful of crayons from the depths of the kitchen. A clever ploy to avoid traumatizing the Blue soldier.

By the time the credits rolled, Simmons wrestled the controller from Grif threatening to break his arm if he didn’t let them change channels. Considering the power in his cybernetic limb, it wasn’t the emptiest of promises. Wash drifted back over with Caboose in his wake. The young man excitedly shows Locus a crude (yet oddly charming) scribble of what he claimed to be all of them. The ex-mercenary takes it gently, taking it all in.

The biggest was Caboose who was the only one who had hair of them all. He was labeled as both the ‘best!!’ and ‘me!’. To his right the medic and Red team. The medic (Locus really needed to get his name at some point) was in his signature purple, smiling with an outdated headband that Locus is fairly sure was worn by dentists rather than doctors. He was described with ‘nice!’. Then Donut, grin breaking from the confines of his face and hands thrown over his head, the descriptor this time is ‘hapy’. Shouting next to him must be Sarge in fire engine red. His head is square for some reason, and he’s noted for being ‘angry’. At the bottom right corner are Grif and Simmons, the former of which looks like he swallowed a balloon, the latter with one green eye. Surprising attention to detail there. When he takes another look he realizes Grif seems to be kissing Simmons. If they thought they were being subtle, they failed to fool even Caboose’s notice. Grif is simply stated to be ‘fat’ and Simmons is ‘smart!’.

The rest are to Caboose’s left, starting with Carolina. She’s got a rather grumpy look on with exaggerated eyelashes and her hands on her hips. At her feet is the word ‘mean’. Then to her left is Tucker who is either doing his recently named “finger guns” or flipping someone off. Hard to tell. In faint crayon above him he’s credited with being ‘dum’. With his grey body and yellow limbs, Wash looks almost depressed compared to the rest of the bunch. He’s just named ‘tub!’ rather than any actual description like the others. Oh, Locus was part of this too. His arms and legs are a forest green along with the detail of his scar. The rest of him is grey with an irritated look on his face. Above him in grey is the word ‘scary’. Below him in green however, it says ‘hug’.

When he squints he realizes he’s holding Wash’s hand. Maybe Caboose was more observant than he gave him credit for. “You...you did a good job.” Locus says finally.

Caboose lights up light a firecracker, bouncing on his feet before delivering a crushing hug to the ex-mercenary. He can hear the room burst out into laughter, even catching the wheezy edge of Wash’s own chuckles.

“Okay, Caboose, he needs some air now.” Wash swallows another giggle fit, patting at his shoulder.

When he’s released Locus knows everyone’s staring. They keep staring and they don’t scowl like they did before. With an unusually nervous chuckle he shrugs at the rest.

“It’s not exactly the first time he’s done that to me.”

FALSE KINGS

CW: Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts

He's startled from the old habit of memorising people's faces by a hand slipping into his. Wash glances up at Locus with one of those tired, lopsided smiles he seems prone to.

“C’mon. Let's get this done.” The older man inclines his head to the door, gently tugging Locus along.

“What the fuck , why is Locus a trashy romance novel beefcake?!” Tucker balks, nearly spilling his drink over the table.

The sheep diligently watches over the wolf.

“Fine-” Tucker sniffs dismissively. “-how about what the hell were you thinking, running off like that?”

“I don’t-” Locus tries before Sarge snappily adds on.

“It ain't rocket science, kid. Y’ could’a stuck around fer a few days, at least. Hell, what if we needed yer help with Susie Spec’ Ops’ over there?” He grumbles, nodding to Wash.

The man in question looks offended, opening his mouth to interject when Caboose cuts him off.

“Oh oh! Can I also have another hug??”

Everyone throws dirty looks at the Blue trooper.

“So Tucker can call him a book but I don't get a nice hug?” Caboose pouts dramatically.

“I-It was no big deal, don't worry about it!” He stammers rapidly, shoulders hunching, giving the impression that he was sinking back into his turtleneck.

“It was a big deal, nerd!” Grif retorts, pushing away from the lumpy overstuffed sofa, arms folded across his chest. “You kept bitching about how it was gonna be a pain with our old tech!”

The medic pipes up from the far end of the sofa. “This is pretty normal for us, remember?”

“I just need some time off from the Reds and Blues.”

“Hey, sorry, needed a bit of quiet time.”

“I’m fine, Car’s just...y’know.”

"I can't sleep, can we go do something?"

"I needed a peaceful place."

It’s just enough to push the ex-mercenary to speak.

Locus clears his throat, squaring his shoulders. Wash’s head snaps up, eyeing the ex-mercenary cautiously. “Normal changes sometimes. It isn’t exactly...efficient to argue all the time.”

“Part of our charm, numbnuts.” Tucker snorts, a snide smirk on his face. “Did you miss the memo?”

Locus wants to punch something.

He takes a breath instead. “It’s not the most charming habit, if you want my honesty.”

“Yeah, because killing people totally charms the underpants off’a folks!” The one in the pink parka taunts.

That thread holding Wash in check snaps in an instant. “Donut!”

The blonde jumps, upending his mug onto the floor.

“You weren’t a mercenary.” Carolina coldly states from the booth she’s taken over.

“I-” Wash stumbles over the tip of his boot, eyes a fraction too wide.

The sheep had kept the wolf safe for so long now. Time to return the favor.

Carolina levels him with a glare, cheeks darkening. She starts to speak, but Locus isn’t exactly invested in hearing out her predictably fragile argument.

“Oh yeahhhh, you did try to kill me Washy! I almost forgot about that…” Donut chuckles, scratching at his belly through the down coat.

“A point-” He claimed. “-is how a knife so easily slides into a beating heart.”

Not everything Felix had taught him was bad, it seemed.

“Maine.”

All eyes are on Wash again. Carolina blinks owlishly, tilting her head. “Wash what-”

Hopefully the point hit home for once.

Wash yelps, “Wait, what?! No! It was a metaphor, we’re not related! Also I’m older than her by a long shot!”

Caboose just keeps grinning and repeating, “I called it.”

When he squints he realizes he’s holding Wash’s hand. Maybe Caboose was more observant than he gave him credit for. “You...you did a good job.” Locus says finally.

“Okay, Caboose, he needs some air now.” Wash swallows another giggle fit, patting at his shoulder.

When he’s released Locus knows everyone’s staring. They keep staring and they don’t scowl like they did before. With an unusually nervous chuckle he shrugs at the rest.

“It’s not exactly the first time he’s done that to me.”

FALSE KINGS

CW: Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts

Locus knows something's a miss when he hears the rusty shriek of the brakes on Wash’s SUV that Monday morning. The freelancer should be at his job by now. Wash was well known to never miss a day.

The engine cuts off and the car door slams. Heavy work boots crunch over the gravel that makes up the driveway. Wash shoulders open the screen door, glancing around the cabin. (The habit of checking for threats still stuck with the stout man.)

With no words, the older man strides over to his well loved coffee machine. He gets it set up to brew espresso, drumming his fingers on the countertop.

The stormy silence reigns until the shadows on the porch grow long, hints of starlight peeking through the blue sky.

“I lost my job.”

Locus glances up from the fruit he’s slicing for a pie. “...How?”

“Had a flashback. Thought my supervisor was the Director. Broke his jaw.” Wash grumbles, opening a tin of pain relieving gel.

Locus makes his way over, taking the container before the freelancer can dip his fingers into it. The ex-mercenary drags a thumb over the surface of the balm to work into the shoulders of his boyf-

The thought skids off the rails. He had never considered Wash as a boyfriend, a partner, even with the clear relationship they had. Was Locus allowed to think like that? It makes his chest ache as he returns to the task at hand.

Rough fingers massage scarred, tense shoulders. The distinctive smell spreads throughout the cabin.

They don't speak for the rest of the night.

---

Wash has a whiteboard because his therapist insisted that it was a good idea for Wash to write his thoughts after an episode. The only times Locus saw it being used was when Wash woke from nightmares. (Often writing as if he was someone else.)

The words he finds this morning sends a stab of familiarity through his heart.

[Getting lost singing their song.

Caught up in, all I've done.

It's all I know , but not what I need.

Cut by my love, cut till I bleed. ]

Locus takes a photo of it on instinct. The next time he walks by, the board is clean. The ex-mercenary gets the feeling that this was just the start of something new.

---

A month passes, and Wash gets a new job. He’s there for two days before he’s fired again. The company refuses to pay him, and Locus knows all too well that the seething freelancer won't take the matter to court.

That night, Wash wakes up, referring to Locus as Maine for three hours.

The whiteboard gives up more when Locus gets up at noon to make pancakes for lunch.

[So I want to run to your shelter tonight.

Run to your shelter tonight.

United in silent resistance,

Of bowing to false kings.

So let me run to your shelter tonight.

Run from this meaningless pantomime.

I'll swallow my pride, give up the pretense,

Of bowing to false kings .]

Locus takes another picture and starts his motorcycle.

The tall man seeks out Tucker, because he knows the man's crude jokes are a thin veil for how deeply he cares about the freelancer.

The sim trooper gnaws at his thumb as he reads. “Loc’s this is like...this shit scares me.”

For once, Locus wholeheartedly agrees with Tucker.

“I need you to help me find a decent place for him to work. Some place that helps veterans. You know the town better.” Locus pleads softly. “I need- no, Wash needs all the assistance we can offer.”

Tucker nods, eyes glinting with steely determination. “I've got this.”

---

It's a week before the next part shows up.

[ Bought their smiles, liquid and smooth.

Took their words, for the truth .

Edge of light and shade.

My broken soul , once more enslaved -]

It trails back into the chorus, and Locus goes looking for a pen. He still has his notes from the first time Wash used music to relay a message. He already knows that the tone had taken a far darker tone this time.

Lost, All I've done, I know, what I need, I bleed.

Want to run, tonight, run, tonight, silent, false kings, run, tonight, run, I'll, give up, false kings.

Bought, took, the truth, edge of, shade, soul, enslaved, let me run, tonight, run, I see, I see, end.

Alarmingly when Locus walks into the living room, there's more scrawled across the windows. His heart sinks like a stone.

When, cold blood runs, without grace, do I, soar? Need, your, new ways, end, wars, I'm yours.

Want to run to you-, run, tonight, united, kings, let me run, from, my pride.

Locus abandons his notebook, going to search the bedroom. He can hear Wash's rattling snores from where he stands, fear lacing through him like puppet strings that compel him to check Wash's vitals. Regardless of the knowledge that the freelancer could, and would likely see him as a threat in Wash’s sleep addled mind. The ex-mercenary doesn't care if he gets busted up as long as Wash is safe.

The instant the door latch clicks, the snoring stops. Rough muttering is muffled by the bed clothes.

Locus goes to draw back the quilt and can't quite avoid a strike to his face. It's a glancing blow, but it still stings like a bitch.

Wash pauses, blinking a few times before squinting at Locus. Guilt sinks into his frame. “Shit, I'm sorry Loc’s…”

Locus shrugs lamely. “I'm well aware of the risks of startling you. Especially from sleep.”

“Oh...why did you wake me up?”

The ex-mercenary takes a breath to soothe the tremble threatening to creep into his voice. “The writing.”

Wash sighs in a way not in line with a man being confronted over dark thoughts. “Did I do more?”

Locus nods. “You moved to the windows this time.”

“Son of a bitch.” Wash grouses, dragging a hand down his face. “Sorry, I'll go clea-”

“I didn't wake you up to make you clean up. I'm worried that…” the tall man stills, biting his lip. “The words you underlined this time paint a... significantly darker picture than before.”

Wash stops mid-stride. He stares up at Locus, so intense it's overwhelming. The younger man looks away from the other. “...You think I'm gonna kill myself.”

There's no question to be found. A cold, hard statement of facts.

Locus holds out the notebook, still unable to meet Wash's eyes.

The freelancer skims the page, shoulders slumping. “...Locus, you know I'd never go through with it.”

“What I know, is that nothing is certain. I... I love you too much to just ignore something like this.”

Wash's cheeks flush darker, head ducking down. “I-I mean, when you put it like that... yeah, it makes sense.” With a tiny snippet of static from his vodacoder, the older man adds, “Thanks for looking out for me. I love you too. Sorry if I’m bad at showing it.”

“You’re not bad.” Locus insists. “You show affection how you feel is right. You’re fine.”

Wash hesitates before holding out his arms to ask for an embrace.

Locus pulls the freelancer close, holding fast to him. Wash’s hair smells like the regulation toiletries that he must have stashed from the years of military service. Maybe he even ordered it online for the sake of consistency. The older man tucks his head under Locus’ chin, evening out his breaths. His ribs expand and contract smoothly under Locus’ palms.

It’s a nice sort of calm that settles over them after that lingering fear. Then Locus’ phone shrieks out some bland, royalty-free nonsense.

Jolting, Locus extracts himself from their embrace. Glaring at the screen, it kindly informs him that Tucker is calling. Locus swipes the answer button, responding with a snappy, “What is it.”

“I found Wash’s dream job, and they’re hiring.”

---

Leave it to Tucker to find the one cafe Wash didn’t know about. It goes by the title of Research Roasts. Apparently some big-shot Smithsonian scientist bought the building where the cafe was now located, then badgered her friend into taking his coffee house idea seriously. Low overhead in a high class part of town would do that to most people. Totally free overhead would get just about anyone to bite.

The real kicker for Locus was they only hired veterans. Especially ones suffering from mental issues after their experiences with the war. It sounds better with every word out of Tucker’s mouth.

They get Wash an interview with the promise that Locus would get to accompany him as well. Whatever it took to pull Wash from his most recent spiral was perfectly acceptable.

The place is what one expects at first. Posters with microscopes and technobabble, the table of elements and beakers. Science stuff. Yet when Locus takes a closer look, he also sees diagrams of many standard issue firearms from the war.

The man behind the counter is slender, with fluffy dark hair piled into a messy bun. He’s got what Locus likes to call ‘Felix Syndrome.’ Basically, when someone looks perfectly normal, attractive, or otherwise harmless. Yet something gives away a glimpse of something altogether dangerous, if not downright lethal.

“You’re the ones that called, yeah?” Even his voice is perfectly soothing, but leaves a lingering sense of paranoia. Sibley (that’s what his name tag says.) nods towards the back. “Go on. Boss knows you’ll be dropping by soon.”

Wash mutters a nervous thanks, whereas Locus gives a simple nod to the mysterious cashier as they pass.

Everyone they pass by either has Felix Syndrome, or looks like they’d fit right in with Wash and Locus’ crowd. Tired eyes with exhausted smiles. They were, however, pretty clearly happy. Happier than Wash had been for many months.

They reach the door mentioned in the email and Wash’s hand hovers an inch or two away from the wood. He swallows around the lump in his throat. Locus takes his free hand and squeezes it.

“I’m here.” He offers gently.

Wash knocks.

Instead of being told to come in, Locus hears the squeak of a chair, leading to uneven footsteps. The door swings open, and Locus’ spine stiffens.

Siris. Mason fucking Wu himself is looking back with an equally startled expression.

“I-...Locus?” Siris whispers just loud enough for his former teammate to hear.

There’s a nod that straddles the line between polite acknowledgement and nervous tick. “Siris.”

Wash looks justifiably baffled, but Siris just brushes the hair from his eyes and beckons the two in. When they do, the door clicks shut.

“We worked together.” Locus answers Wash’s question before his partner can even ask it.

“Oh.” Is the only reaction Wash gives, taking a seat in the nearest chair.

“You…” Siris starts, trying to focus. “You must be Wash.” He extends a hand. “Mason Wu. I’ve been accused of running the show here.”

That does earn a weak chuckle from Wash, though it doesn’t get a smile. He does take Siris’ hand, shaking firmly. “Hope the rumors are true.” He offers dryly.

Siris smirks at that, sitting at the chair behind the plain desk. He’s still warily keeping Locus in sight. In all honesty, Locus is doing the exact same thing.

As they get down to brass tacks, Locus actually finds himself desperately hoping Wash gets this job. He knows Siris. Siris is the sort of man who would get through to the paranoid freelancer just by chatting. He was who taught Locus many of the essential tools that he used to keep Wash happy and healthy.

Two wolves circling the sheep. Both know their own motives. They haven’t a clue of the other’s thoughts.

They speak.

---

It seems to go well. From where Locus sits that is. He’s almost certain Wash got the job. Before they can go, Siris grabs Locus’ arm.

“I’m trusting you, Ortez.” he whispers sternly. “Don’t make me regret that.”

“Funny. I was going to say something similar.” Locus realizes that that may have come off as sarcastic. He scrambles, tacking on, “Wash means a very great deal to me, so-”

Siris snorts, patting Locus’ arm. “I know what you meant, kid.”

Locus’ cheeks darken with embarrassment. “I’m not that much younger than you.”

“Ten years isn’t something to sneeze at.” Siris grins slyly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Locus sees Wash trying to hide a matching grin of his own behind his palm.

It’s a good start.

#red vs blue #rvb #spoilers #mainewash #locington

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joz-yyh · 11 days ago

Text

Of Monks and Monsters - Ch. 5

SUMMARY: Role Reversal AU. William returns to the magistrate and sinister preparations are made. Will Bigby save the monster that abducted him or leave him to die? No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T ((blood / gore))

PAIRING: Abomination x Flagellant

WORD COUNT: 4,164

READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!

A/N: Nothing too important, but picture William with his dark-haired/dark-skinned color palette for this story.

Also, you might recognize a portion of this chapter from one of my #DDmonth submissions~

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

As William steps into the grandeur of Baldwin's meeting hall, the space feels cramped, almost suffocating, the walls closing in despite its lengthy expanse.

His faithful wolfhound is there to steady his hand, but even her breaths are betrayed by a whimper, the two crossing the room to deliver a message.

“Have you found him,” asks the man with the golden guise, piqued by the houndmaster’s results (or rather the lack thereof).

“We know where he's being held,” William coughs, clearing his throat, choosing his words wisely.

“Oh,” Sarmenti urges, a jingle of excitement, steering the conversation, “so in other words, you failed?”

Knife always at the ready, the assassin makes sure to bring special attention to it, tilting his head in tune with its broad edge.

William pauses, swallows, reminds himself to stand straight, rising above the intimidation.

“Magic was involved.”

The jester explodes into a laughing fit, the structure of the surrounding space shaking from the insane chorus of “HA, HA, HA!!”

He hasn't heard something that funny in awhile, Sarmenti almost grateful to feel genuine humor, wiping away fake tears from his mask, having settled into less raucous cackles.

“To hear a grown man speak of such things! And people call me childish!”

Unnerved, William grits his teeth, fists clenching in the grey fur of his canine, needing to steel himself.

“Perhaps, if you knew of an apothecary, I could break the barrier impeding us.”

He sounds so much more resolute, some pride for his many years of service, his life’s work dedicated to finding lost souls.

“Oh, please! Just admit that you couldn't handle the job. A washed up has-been who came back with his tail between his legs!”

Baldwin's lackey is doing all he can to discredit his work, paint him as a fraud, but when William reflects on all the people he saved in the past, therein lies his true worth.

“If you think so, by all means, good luck finding a better tracker than me.”

A stern brow, the ex policeman willing to walk away, leave his client and take his expertise elsewhere.

Having observed the exchange, Baldwin finally chimes in, discovering all the truth he needed.

“I may know of a herbalist,” he says, holding his chin in contemplation.

“You can't be serious! You're saying you believe this dog?”

Sarmenti is fuming, bells whipped into a frenzy as he gawks at his liege, hands displaying the sorry excuse for a hired hand that had failed to deliver his side of the bargain.

“I think there's some merit to what he says,” the magistrate nods, willing to comply, “It's our best lead so far.”

The jester slumps, sighing with dramatic nonchalance, “Fine, you're the boss.”

“Tell me what you know.”

It takes William a minute to realize he's being questioned, the leper lord a broad figure of crossed arms, strikingly serious.

“In the far woods to the south, a creature's den, surrounded by stone. We followed Bigby's scent there. Wager he's trapped inside. Saw it for myself.”

“And who's to say this creature didn't eat him,” the jester tosses, playing devil's advocate, “since we're all following along in this fantasy of yours.”

The jester must be picking at low hanging fruit if that's the best munition he's got.

“Fergus knows the difference between a live body and a dead one. She would have signaled me.”

“So, you're claiming her nose can smell through barriers?”

William nearly scoffs, doubling down.

“Call it a well-informed hunch.”

Baldwin ponders the possibility, plotting out his next course of action.

“I've heard enough,” he says, waving away further discussion, “Rest tonight. I will have all that you require tomorrow.”

“Thank you sir.”

William gives a gracious bow of dark locks, relief rapidly expanding the tightness in his chest.

“And give my regards to your team. Seems they were too indisposed to attend.”

Their employer is personally insulted by their disloyalty, showing his back to his guest, William doing his best to soften the transgression.

“They felt me capable enough to speak on their behalf.”

“Hm,” the leper drawls, this leaving a bad taste in his mouth, “Their presence is required. Be sure to tell them. Otherwise, there may be repercussions.”

“Yes, right away.”

“Good. You're dismissed.”

With a polite nod, the houndmaster beats a hasty departure, off to inform his crew of the good news – that their heads would remain attached to their shoulders, so long as their devotion was tested and proven.

-----

The metal latch creaks open, a visitor letting themselves into Paracelsus’ laboratory, a glorified prison modified to house her many experiments.

This place was supposed to be kept secret, only two people with a key, the doctor entertaining both visitors today, deductive reasoning telling her it's Baldwin this time.

She's too involved in her experiments to trifle with pleasantries, testing a slide under her magnifying glass, a wide-lensed monocle meant for the assessment of jewels now refurbished for a different purpose.

Under her cowled hood, Paracelsus deciphers heavy footsteps over cobblestone, the leper observing the cells at her back, pausing before the bars holding their newest prisoner.

“Your right hand brought that in,” the scientist says, carving into a recently dissected sample, “usually my test subjects are less lively.”

“This one's not to be harmed. I have special plans for her.”

He peers inside, gripping metal as he does, a glimmer of bracelets to match the manacles the prisoner is chained up to.

The woman is unconscious, hair falling loosely from her headcovering, cheeks bruised, roughed up probably in part to her attempting to escape.

“Why is she bound and gagged?”

“She spits,” the plague doctor says, her goggles still in need of a polish, “careful not to get too close. Her sedation is just about to wear off.”

“Perfect. There's something I need to ask her.”

“You'll need this then,” Paracelsus says, holding up a syringe in one hand, attention still on the scalpel she wields in the other, “It's a larger dose.”

Baldwin smiles, accepting this gift before heading back to the jail cell, about to unlock it when the plague doctor gives him another disclaimer.

“Oh and do remember to put the gag back on once you’re done. Her rambling wrecks havoc on my concentration.”

“Understood.”

Baldwin steps into crude accommodations barely big enough to fit his size, finding a stool, positioning himself on it, wanting to be at even ground with his prisoner.

He pulls away the cloth in her mouth, watching as her slumbering lashes twist open, a groan of discomfort as she shifts, arms above her head, stuck in a most uncomfortable position for the last few hours.

“Time to wake, my dear.”

The hijab-clad woman tugs on her binds, sorting through the drowsiness, head not quite catching up to current events, how she got here a jumbled blur.

“What do you want?”

Despite the haze, conviction is ripe in her voice, avoiding his touch, Baldwin pleased by her moxie.

“I am looking for something very old, very rare.”

From behind his mask, the leper searches her dark eyes, scrutinizing every move, every answer by her dilated pupils.

“Maybe you haven’t heard,” she growls, cynic, lips pulled into a sneer, “but I am not in business anymore.”

She wriggles, ankles left unfettered, about to lash out with whatever attack she can muster.

Baldwin leans back in his seat, hands interlaced, unphased by such threats.

“Let me put it another way,” he remarks coolly, face grim, “from one collector to another. I need the artifact. Where is it?”

The woman stalls at this knowledge, trying to recover the slip, mask it with dubiousness.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Baldwin heaves out a pointed sigh, head hanging with disappointment, voice changing into something menacing, very unlike his gentle disposition.

“Poor, sweet Josephine, now we both know that’s not true.”

The antiquarian gasps, recoiling, her veiled gaze suddenly going wide to see this man address her so casually, as if they knew each other.

“Who … who are you?

“I am surprised you don’t recognize me,” he purrs, about to reveal a secret of his own, but this had always been a part of the plan.

A red gleam shines from behind his visor, a bandaged hand raising to tear the mask away, bear the burden of his true face.

“Hello Krishna, it’s me.”

The woman drives herself against the wall, wanting to flee, meeting a ghost from her past, one she had presumed was dead.

“You!! How … how is it possible? What dark arts have you inspired now?!”

“I told you she was loud,” Para complains from across the room, a headache forming over the prisoner's pointless shouting.

“She's right,” Baldwin assures, counsel for his guest, “you should take a breath and calm down. You’ll wear yourself out struggling like that.”

“No – y-you were lost … dead !!”

The monarch shares a smirk, delighting in her spirited reaction.

“Apparently, not as dead as you thought.”

“You’ve committed taboo, haram. Such conceit! You defy our God, sold your soul for what? A coward's dream of power?!”

“Think what you want about the past,” he says, hardened by her accusations, “but know this, one way another, with or without you, I will get what I want.”

“I wish myself dead before helping you.”

Josephine stares, unfaltering, wanting to burst her enemy into a cloud of toxic flumes.

“Still so defiant,” he chuckles, putting the mask back into place, gathering himself to leave. “I'll give you some more time to think it over.”

Syringe still within his possession, he holds her down, exposing her neck, serum gushing out the sharp end of the needlepoint.

“Get away!!”

She flails, trying to resist, but she cannot hope to exceed his strength, kicking with all her might to no avail.

“Shhh, sleep now and dream.”

A soothing lullaby to dull the pain, her skin pricked, invaded, a vile concoction injected into her bloodstream.

Within seconds, her panting breaths even out, body falling limp once more, Baldwin waiting until the drug takes full effect, holding her in contempt.

This would be a long and painful process, but Baldwin was a patient man, he’d outlast her petty rebellion.

With no further clues to guide him, the leper leaves the cell, depositing the syringe on the table near the doc's scrawny elbow.

“By the way,” he says, pulling a piece of parchment from his breastplate, “I need all of the items on this list.”

The scientist sets down her tools, unfolding the note, reading it over.

“Ingredients for an anti-glamour spell? Whatever for?”

“The Forsaken is making trouble for us again.”

She squints, pulling the paper away from her beak.

“Thought I sent one of our Fallen to take care of it.”

“You did,” Baldwin confirms, recollecting the preparations, hands folded behind his back, “Unfortunately, our boy is quite resilient. Somehow, he’s managed to survive.”

“How Intriguing,” she muses, eager to know more, “When did you say you needed this again?”

Her memory retention for anything unrelated to her current projects had a way of subverting her immediate notice.

“Tomorrow.”

Para utters a disgruntled noise, a conflict arising in their schedules.

“That's going to cut into my plans.”

“I'll make it up to you.”

She takes a few more crucial seconds to rework her itinerary, finding an opening that could potentially stew on the back burner.

“Hmm, suppose I could rearrange my petri dishes later.”

“I trust you won't disappoint me.”

With a knowing look, Baldwin begins his ascent, following the stairs up, the plague doctor calling out to him with a warning.

“You know this isn't going to stop him, right? It'll weaken him temporarily at best.“

“I just need a small window of opportunity. Don't worry about the rest.”

Their discussion at its end, he locks the mad scientist safely inside her gilded cage, biding his time until once more they gather their resources, soon to reconvene.

—-

Damian trusted him enough to let him wander outside the nest, far enough to forage, but not far enough that he would breach another's territory.

Bigby is grateful to stretch his legs, for the change of scenery. He'd spent too many hours inside the creature's den, surrounded by rock and bone, under its scrutiny.

The young monk preferred the taste berries to whatever questionable meat the creature sustained itself on, the discarded remains leftover from his numerous hunts painting quite the macabre tale.

Once again he thanks the Light for its protection, that he didn't wind up like the others that came before, that he was spared it's wrath, although a willing captive to this place.

He's thought about it, running, betraying the same wechuge who gave him this small semblance of freedom.

“There's no point in trying. He'd find me, just like last time.”

He's talking to himself, picking from the cluster of mushroom caps he found, using his robe as a pouch to harvest them.

“I don't even know how far away the town is. Who's to say I’d make it?”

He sighs, sitting on haunches, staring down at his humble collection. Was this enough food? Should he pick more? How much longer was he planning to stay?

“Maybe, I can convince him to show me …”

His green eyes seem to be asking the foliage around him, but the forest can do no more than offer a quiet ear.

“Would he let me go? I mean, he left me out here alone.”

His grasp on ethics and morality are beginning to blur, spun around the longer he stays here, as twisted and cursed as a bramble bush.

Why should he feel bad for an evil spirit? So what if he was manipulating him for his own survival? He was the victim here, forced into captivity, isolated from the world. Despite these internal arguments against Damian, Bigby couldn't bear the thought of leaving, not yet.

He's too absorbed in his own head to notice the jagged shadow approaching, not expecting an ambush in the middle of the day, especially so close to what he considered safety.

A crack of sound and now the dark-haired boy glances up, a familiar figure just beyond the trees, too distant to make it out clearly.

“Damian, are you trying to scare me?”

He chuckles, taking steps toward it, about to meet the creature half way. After being practically inseparable, almost suffocatingly so, he doesn’t expect to rejoice at his arrival, but the closer he gets, the more he realizes something is wrong.

Damian would never think of parting with his chains, but there are none there, this beast's antlers are stripped bare. Its robes too are off, rags dusted with umbra instead of the splatters of vibrant red he was used to.

And those eyes, there's something sinister in them, leaving nothing to the imagination of what it intends to do.

Fear shivers down his spine, cold, nauseating.

“You're … you're not Damian …”

He trails off, frail words swallowed down into the pit of his stomach.

He never considered the possibility that there would be others like Damian, this encounter being the unfortunate result, cowering from it, slowly.

The creature must sense his fear, its movements erratic, crazed, drawing near with barely repressed hunger. Surely, if it possessed a tongue, it would be licking its chops, salivating before the meal it's about to consume.

“Please, take all the food I have. Just … don’t hurt me.”

He sets out his spoils across the ground, a modest haul, a deterrent in hopes that this creature will spare his life in exchange for this pious offering.

As he kneels there, in the dirt, he wonders if this was foolish, laying himself out for slaughter, debating if he should run, praying silently with all his might.

‘Please save me.’

He can feel the creature darken the sun, chilling the very air around him, an eerie chitter reaching down into his core.

Just as he did that night, Bigby won't face his demise, head bowed in prostration, clinging to hope, denying all else.

A sharp pain, a rush of air, grunting, growling, two figures rolling amongst the forest floor, sticks and leaves kicked up as they tussle.

Bigby eyes blink open, still alive, still breathing, touching over his body, finding that his face stings, his fingers coming back red.

More hissing, groaning, the monk looking toward the source, friend and foe locked together in conflict, one set to destroy, the other bound to protect.

Damian has the opposing wechuge impaled upon his antlers, but their enemy grips him back, prying him off, slashing at his eye sockets.

Bigby’s body moves on it’s own, turning his back on the horrific scene, fleeing further away, into the woods.

What was he doing? How could he be this selfish? Damian had answered his prayer, saved him just as well as any guardian angel would. He couldn’t leave him to die, even if it meant being a prisoner to his whims.

Donning his courage, the monk turns back, seeing that his friend had lost the upper hand, the enemy on top of him, skull rammed into his gut.

Amidst the rush, an idea is born, spying a fallen branch amongst the brush, big enough to resemble a wooden bat.

“Hey,” the boy shouts, distracting the entity long enough to take a swing.

Even with his puny musculature, it does the trick, the creature falling limp to the side the moment his weapon connects with a bony head, bark splintering from the impact.

He’s huffing with adrenaline, heart hammering against his chest, in disbelief that he'd managed to overwhelm an opponent much bigger and stronger than himself.

A pained chitter, this cry for help getting his attention. He tosses the broken stake in his hands, shuffling over to Damian’s side, collapsing onto his knees.

“You’re hurt,” he sobs, seeing the extent of the damage, brutal gouges that gush with fountains of blood.

Damian offers another weak churr, body seizing, spasms driven by pain.

“This … this is my fault. I never should have wandered off.”

Now wasn't the time for self-pity, it would do neither of them any good. Instead, Bigby puts pressure on the wounds, staunching the flow, not having enough hands to cover all the gaping holes.

In what might be his final moments, the crimson glow in Damian’s eyes flickers, fading, but still holding such warmth, all for his precious mortal friend.

A claw reaches up, touching the tiny human’s face, addressing his injury, saying what words couldn't.

“I am alright. Don't worry about me.”

It was a harmless scratch by comparison, hot tears slipping down, making the slash marks burn with salt because this just wasn't fair, but there was a way he could make it right.

Bigby rarely called upon his powers, a well kept secret, having no idea if they would work on a demon, but however small the chance, he would try. He owed Damian that much.

“Lie still, I am going to heal you.”

With eyes closed, he lifts his head, exalted, voice beckoning the sky to fulfill his wish, hands holding back the hemorrhage of blood.

“Merciful Light above, hear my plea: lend this penitent vessel your strength. Let me heal this waning soul in your name, embody your forgiveness always and forever your servant in this life and the next.”

There's warmth under his hands, as heavenly as it is golden, the wechuge’s ghastly white complexion looking more human, bright with color.

This proved that the creature could be saved, that there was goodness in him, the Light had shown him such truth, solidified it within this holy act.

“Light be praised,” Bigby cries, pulling back to see the miracle himself, the wounds mended, staunched of the gore that once was.

Damian reaches for him again, much steadier now that his faculties had returned, admiring, caressing, showing Bigby how dear to him he was, even if he couldn’t say it aloud.

The monk hugs him, cradling a mantle of chains and antlers in his arms, spurring a trill of happiness for his trouble, the wechuge completing the circle, wrapping lanky arms around him.

“I am glad you’re OK too.”

His voice is breathy, thick with relief. Even his face swells with emotion, the smile he gives, effortless.

As warm and reassuring as their embrace is, the possibility of the other creature awakening looms overhead, driving Bigby to cut their affectionate moment short.

“C’mon, let's get out of here.”

He takes Damian by the hand, helping him up, his pale fingers so small by comparison to spindly claws, leading them back to his den, a place he’s starting to call home.

—--

Regret follows him, coupled by rumination, regression, trapped inside that pivotal moment, completely guilt ridden.

Even when they are safely tucked away, sealed inside the sturdy walls of stone obelisks, Bigby stays close, refusing to leave his side.

The monk runs a hand over his friend's battered chest, mapping out each scar, fretting his wounds would suddenly reappear.

He does this many times, rubbing, roaming, grazing, but nothing ever quiets the fear, convinced that Damian's mended flesh was mere illusion.

The wechuge can endure it no longer, being caressed in such a way, taking the boy's hand in his, staying his nerves.

It startles him, Bigby unaware of his own obsessive actions, causing his friend's current discomfort even if he doesn't mean to.

“Sorry, it's just that …”

He cares, he cares so much.

“... I don't want anything to happen to you.”

The ravenette lays his head onto Damian's shoulder, burying himself there to hide his grief.

He's crying again and Damian lets him, claws stroking through his hair, bearing his heavy brow until the boy tires himself out.

Even when he attempts to move them, lie down, the anxious boy clings, Damian stuck holding him, reassuring his doubt.

¬ SLEEP? ¬

A remedy moreso for the human, hoping a good rest would clear away the malaise.

A shallow nod, the animal spirit piling on the blankets of metallic-scented covers, ones that the monk doesn't even mind the origins of anymore.

The fire crackles and the boy finally relents, breaths made rhythmic, short.

They've slept side by side before, but not as tightly wound as this, Bigby attaching himself to his middle, shivers crawling up his skin from being next to a cold-blooded monster, Damian endeared by the sentiment, never having another weep so deeply for him.

He gives the monk a gentle nuzzle, subdued, the shimmer of magic enveloping him, a protective barrier to ensure that he won’t be disturbed.

The vindictive monster sneaks away, leaving the boy to dream, having unfinished business Bigby was best left ignorant of.

Damian finds the black-robed creature that attacked him, the filthy wretch gorging himself on a moose carcass, a gaping hole where he tears apart the fodder’s insides, littered with slash marks.

The wechuge's anger blazes, knowing that that could have been his mate, laid out for an unworthy appetite, would ensure that such dangers would never befall him again.

Slowly, while the beast’s nose is buried within carrion distraction, ravenous to regain his strength, Damian’s vines creep along the forest floor, recompense drawing closer. His enemy cries out, a sharpened tendril boring through his leg, then the other, dragging him back, away from the bloody comfort of his kill.

The wechuge dressed in crimson makes his approach, watching the other struggle to get free, but there would be no mercy this day.

More vines to pierce his adversary’s arms, lifting him up by them, twisting his plaything around so Damian can get a proper look.

Scarlet eyes blazing with hellfire, wanting this being to suffer, he drives in more, a proper spike trap of impalement, a crude crucifixion, hung up for all the world to see.

For a time, he simply observes, rivers of phthalo red dripping down to soak the dirt, the Fallen's body twitching less, losing life, but before it's over, Damian has one last delicacy to reap.

A vine tears into his enemy, back to front, exploding his rib-cage, dismantling his heart, wrapping it within baneful root blossoms.

Damian's tendrils bring the sanguine prize to him, the Fallen weakened enough to revert, show it's human form.

The man gargles on blood, probably a plea for his life, but Damian is deaf to it, crushes the source of power right before the abomination’s eyes.

The cursed being slumps, finally at peace, ascended, and as much as Damian would like to keep him strung up, a macabre testament for any who would dare come too close, he can’t risk his mate finding out what he had done.

He pulls the Fallen apart, dragging pieces of him down into the dirt, the filth undeserving of such a burial, but at least the plants would drink, made beautiful from his unholy sacrifice.

#my writing #dd flagellant #dd abomination #darkest dungeon #flagellant #abomination #bigmian #role reversal au #of monks and monsters #dd

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rilakkosmos · 7 months ago

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Cw death, cw parent death

I woke up to a few text messages from my grandmother, my sister, and my great aunt. My mom died sometime this morning. She has congestive heart failure and was on oxygen. She died as an ambulance was on the way for her, as she said she couldn't breathe. I called my sister and she explained all of this to me. My husband couldn't take the day off, because his job needs more than an hours notice of absence. He fetched my package that contained my cane that was delivered at 8am this morning. He had to leave, and kissed me goodbye. I got up because I couldn't sleep anymore, and went to make breakfast after making sure my cane was a good height. I watched an episode of John Oliver, but I couldn't tell you what it was about. I message my discord friends about what's happened and they're so very supportive and kind. I'm so grateful for them. Carefully, I filled a backpack of what I need going upstairs, so water bottle, ice pack, some pop tarts in case I get hungry, and a little energy drink. I get upstairs using my new cane and I think it's going well. I sit down and open Netflix and watch a doc series about Ashley Madison that I don't care about as I play Lost Ark. My aunt messaged me and asks to meet up because they're over at my mom's apartment to look after her dogs. I say I'd love to but I'm waiting on a delivery for a leg splint because I fell down the stairs. They say okay and to let them know. My cousin who lives in Portland messages me on Facebook and is a little passive aggressive about me not answering her last message sent in 2012 when I was barely 18. But regardless she says she loves me and says she'll be here for whatever I need.

I do want to go to my mom's apartment but I'm worried about my leg. I know my mom wanted her ashes spread over the big tree at Riverbend, and idk if we can make that trip during the height of summer vacations. I don't know what I'll say at whatever service we have. I don't want to say anything. She was a terrible burden to the entire family, but at least I'm glad she did not take her own life as I was always afraid of. She never acted like she wanted to live. She was incredibly self destructive and acted like she didn't have a care in the world. The most selfish person I knew, save for my ex best friend. I always wondered when she would die, because researching her condition always said Maybe 2 months, maybe 5, but who knows. So apparently it really was that bad.

She mentioned her doctor didn't want to see her for at least 6 months. I wonder if they'll be feeling guilty now. I don't blame them. I'm not mad at anyone, not even my mom. I'm still trying to process this. I hope my leg doesn't get worse.

#bmotxt

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wild-blue-sonder · 2 years ago

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I think my story contains trigger warnings regarding mental health, so I'll share it beneath the cut.

I started playing in April 2020 after many years of being harassed encouraged by my sister to get XIV, "because I think you'd really like it!" She started during Heavensward on PS3 and was hardcore raiding, like trying for world firsts with Alexander. I hadn't (and still haven't) played any Final Fantasy games prior to XIV. My sister notified me that Shadowbringers and the previous expansions were all on sale, so I finally caved and bought the bundle. I was living in Germany with my ex-husband at the time, sitting at home taking care of our dog, cooking, cleaning, and not much else. I was deeply depressed when I bought XIV and worried it'd be a waste of money since I'd lost interest in all my other hobbies (writing, reading, model kits, every other game I used to enjoy), but I felt it'd be even more wasteful not to take advantage of the 30 days of free play time before I had to pay a recurring subscription. So I created my female Wildwood Elezen, named and modeled her after the protagonist of Valkyrie Profile (an old Enix game), chose Conjurer as my starting job, and set out on my adventure through A Realm Reborn.

It probably sounds cliché to say that XIV saved my life, but it certainly affected it for the better. I was so depressed I hardly had motivation to get out of bed most days. I didn't really eat and I didn't want to socialize. But since my ex had, at that point, prioritized his career over me, I forced myself to get up each day to at least keep the dog alive. Then I started getting up, taking care of our shepherd, and sitting down to play XIV. I had finagled an NA service account instead of EU so I could play on Aether-Gilgamesh with my sister and join her free company, Roses of May, where the members were all great at not spoiling anything for me despite being endgame raiders. So I was just going around, doing the MSQ and my job quests to unlock new spells, exploring the three main cities, until I decided to pick up all the crafting and gathering jobs. At the time of April 2020, a certain global pandemic was rapidly unfolding, and Germany declared lockdown. Being affiliated with the US military, my ex still had to go to work on base each day, but now I had an excuse to stay home and not socialize.

Except my dread at having to get out of bed each morning was slowly turning into anticipation and excitement to jump back into the world of Eorzea, where I could keep people alive as a pretty good healer and fill in the maps of all the interesting overworld regions and their dungeons and check off everything in my gathering logs and craft all the things, because not being able to rely on anyone but myself irl definitely translated to how I played the game. I also decided I wanted to pick up and play every job, which I do currently with varying degrees of competency. It took me just under one year (April 16, 2020 to April 14, 2021) to complete Shadowbringers, and I finished Death Unto Dawn in October.

It feels strange to reminisce on the way my life was when I started XIV because literally everything is different now. I got divorced last May, I moved back to my home state, I started a business with my sister and get to spend a lot more quality time with her. I got a decent job in December; I was supposed to be a temp and be let go in April, but they kept me on. I like being able to pay my own subscription. Weirdly, or perhaps serendipitously, I was working on my penultimate anima relic at the end of May, right after the anniversary of my divorce, and the male Duskwight in our light farm party sent me a flirty tell after we finished. Then we started talking, and kept talking, and decided to try a long-distance relationship. And now he's coming to stay with me for half a month this Sunday.

So now I'm that person encouraging others to try XIV.

Question for the ffxiv fandom!

How did you all get into the game? I love hearing everyone's stories about how they found the game.

#ff14 #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #personal

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taones · 4 years ago

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𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐔𝐩

Pairings - Daishou, Oikawa, Kageyama, Tsukishima, Asahi, Sakusa and Tendou x gn!reader

Notes - this isn’t a request it came out of nowhere I was just thinking about it while walking my dog

Warnings - Angst, mentions of cheating and insults

Oikawa - it felt like you shared him with hundreds of girls. His fangirls went everywhere you did and he played into it so much. What was he getting from them that he wasn’t from you? What he called fan service, you called flirting and he couldn’t quite get that. You knew it was only a matter of time before you found one of these girls in your bed so you left.

Daishou - He was still in love with his ex. It was obvious to everyone but him. The way his eyes looked when someone mentioned her. You knew he still had most of their photos together saved in his phone but when you caught him looking at one of their anniversary photos, you knew it was time to leave.

Kageyama - It felt like you were dating a robot. You had to initiate everything. You asked him out, you kissed him first, you asked for cuddles. Tobio had passion for one thing and that was volleyball. You knew you would never fit properly into his life and that was made obvious by his black stare when you told him you were leaving.

Tendou - You didn’t want to go to Paris with him. Your entire life was in Japan, you couldn’t just leave that. All of your friends, your job and everything you loved was there. He got annoyed when you told him you couldn’t leave, like he was magically expecting you to be completely fine with such a big choice. You disappeared a week before he was due to leave, leaving only a note. He hasn’t seen you since.

Tsukishima - much like Kageyama, it was like you weren’t even in a relationship. In private, Kei could be touchy and sweet but it was like you were an inconvenience in front of others though. Every hand hold and hug was met with rolling eyes and limp arms - or even worse, insults. You were sick of feeling like the whole thing was one sided and the only response you got when you told him? A scoff. You were packed and gone within the hour.

Sakusa - Every little thing you did was met with judgement. Every glass you left on the side or dirt trekked through the house exploded into a fight. It got to the point where you just let him lecture you and blanked out. Even then, each scathing remark left you feeling like there was a knife in your side and you finally had enough when you heard him muttering ‘disgusting’ when he found a mug you had set down not even 10 minutes earlier. You couldn’t stay even if you tried.

Asahi - He was too anxious about your relationship. Every move you made was met with questions of what you were doing? Who are you with? Do you still love him? It got on your nerves that he couldn’t just listen when you told him how much you adored him. The last time it happened was when you went out with some friends and he was texting you the entire time, begging you for reassurance. You weren’t going to be with someone who didn’t trust you.

Hope you guys enjoyed me ripping your heart out and stamping on it mwah ly guys

Remember reblogging helps content creators!

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chrisevansszn · 4 years ago

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Valleys and Mountains Pt 5🏔

Final Chapter

1.7k

18 and up only ‼

“I want a fucking divorce!!”

“I’m not giving you shit.”

“Why??? So, you can have your cake and eat it too? Who do you think you are??”

“I want my fucking marriage and wife back. Is that so hard? Yes, I’ve been talking to Cree but its because you’ve been ignoring me.”

“You narcissistic fucker you!”

He shakes his head.

“You know what! Your right! I have been fucking Jason to get back at you. You don’t deserve me!”

What the fuck are you thinking!

Chris swings in your direction but punches a hole through the wall. You are completely frozen in fear. He steps back and looks at his hand. There is blood coming from his knuckles. He grabs a kitchen towel, runs the kitchen sink to wet it and wraps it around his hand. He walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs without making a sound or eye contact with you.

You bent over finally catching your breath as tears run down your face. You didn’t move for about 15 minutes, stuck in that one spot. You finally looked back at the wall to see the damage. A perfect hole all the way through. You grabbed a paper towel and wiped your face as you headed to your room. You went straight to your closet to grab your suitcase to pack up some clothes. A night or two at a hotel is a must right now. There is no way you are staying here! You haphazardly throw clothes and shoes into your suitcase. You heard footsteps behind you and slowly turned around. Chris was standing there.

The silence in the room was excruciating.

“I’m going to a hotel.”

“I will go if you want me to.”

You swallowed.

“No, I don’t want to be here.”

You stood up to walk past Chris, he grabbed your arm as you walked past. You turned and looked at him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for everything. I really am.”

You pulled your arm away and continued to your bathroom to get more stuff. Chris followed.

“Are you invited Jason to your hotel?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing! Fucking men!

“YOU HAVE A LOT OF FUCKING NERVE CHRISTOPHER! MEN WILL CHEAT AND FUCK UP THEIR MARRIAGE BUT THE MOMENT A WOMEN GETS EVEN THEY CAN’T HANDLE IT!”

“I can’t handle it! The thought makes me so fucking sick!”

You rolled your eyes, grabbed your shit, and finished packing. You headed out the door with Chris on you heels. He didn’t say or do anything. He watched as you put your shit in the car and drive away. You went to an Omni hotel and booked for a couple of nights. You texted your boss saying you needed a couple of days off for personal reasons. Your hotel room was all you were going to see for the next two days.

Chris called but you let it go to voicemail, begging for forgiveness, and do go to marriage counseling. You didn’t reply back. The next two days you laid in bed, rarely ate anything, and had room service to bring you bottle after bottle. You slept and drank the days away.

Day two came and it was time for check out. You headed back home as it rained cats and dogs outside. You pulled into the driveway. Chris’ truck was parked. You took a deep breath and walked into the house. Chris was sitting at the dining room table, he looked God awful. You can tell he hasn’t been sleeping. You paused and stared at each other.

“Y/N.”

You waited.

“Yes.”

“I am so sorry about everything. Can we go to marriage counseling?”

Marriage counseling isn’t such a bad idea. This can only go two ways…the marriage heals, or the marriage ends. Do you even want to be married anymore?

“Sure. Set it up.” You walked off. You had a lot to consider, you and Chris both did dirt maybe you can really patch things up and move forward.

The day has come, your first counseling session. Chris found a young lady who was well qualified. You did the whole introduction thing. You thought maybe this would do some good but let me remind everyone of what Christopher said.

“Chris & Y/N, thank you for coming in today. This is a place where you can express exactly how you feel. Now, who wants to go first?”

“I will.”, Chris said. “I think a divorce is the best option.”

You turned your head so quickly. You couldn’t believe what this asshole just said.

“Wait Chris isn’t there another option here. I thought you wanted to save your marriage?”, the counselor said.

You didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been thinking, about everything. Both of us stepping out on our marriage, Y/N disappearing for a couple of days, and our fight.”

“I only slept with Jason to get back at you.”, you snapped.

“Don’t ever say his name in front of me again.”

“Or what? You started this whole mess!”

“Please now I need both of you to settle down. We have to have civil conversation here.”

You got up and walked off. You needed a minute. After all this man has put you though, he thinks he can initiate the divorce?? The doctors retrieve you from the hallway, and you go back inside. Chris hadn’t moved a muscle. You and Chris go back and forth, its literally the blame game.

Thank God you both took separate cars! This first session was a nightmare. What had gotten into Chris?

You made it home before Chris. He actually didn’t walk through the door until later. You sat on the couch waiting for him. A real conversation was needed.

Chris finally walked through the door.

“Chris.”

“What is it?”

“What was that shit today? You beg me to go to counseling and then you start off by saying you want a divorce? What do you want to do?”

He rolled his eyes. The fucking audacity.

“I’ve had time to think. I am sick of begging you to make this marriage work. I’ve done nothing but BEG you.”

“So, you want a divorce? Tell me now because I am not wasting my time going to counseling with you.”

He sat up and put it hands on his hips. You hated that shit.

“Yes, I want a divorce. I want to be with Cree.” He looked at the ground as he said those words.

“EXCUSE ME? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

“You heard me.”

You completely lost it.

“FUCK YOU CHRIS! I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS!

You went and pushed him on his face!

“Y/N, don’t do that shit!”

Chris gave you a slight push to put space between you two.

“Get out now…”

“I pay the damn mortgage on this home!”

“PACK YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Chris gives you a look. He walks past you and heads to the bedroom. You leaned back against the nearest wall. You had to take some deep breaths. You walked over to the couch and sat. You could hear Chris slamming the dresser as he packed up. Not a tear fell down your face this time, you just wanted him gone.

About 10 minutes later Chris walks by with a suitcase, grabbed his keys, his wallet, and walked out the door. You grabbed your MacBook and sat back on the couch with a glass of wine and begin searching for divorce lawyers.

You didn’t want to tell anyone what was going on yet. You were too embarrassed. After searching, you found lawyer and decided to call in the morning. You didn’t get any sleep that night per the usual. You headed to work the next day and called the lawyer to set up a meeting to get the ball rolling.

A week went by and you and Chris haven’t communicated not once. Jason was texting, but you weren’t responding at all. The meeting with the lawyer was productive, she got all the paperwork together for you to get Chris to sign.

A few days later, you heard the door unlocking as you ate dinner in the kitchen while working. Chris walked in. He looked at you and you looked right back at your screen.

He walked over.

“I got the documents today from your lawyer.”

You looked up.

“Let’s talk about this.”

“There is nothing to discuss, sign the papers. If you want the house, then buy me out, if not…it goes on the market.”

You stood up to take your plate to the sink. Chris follows behind.

“I’m not ready to let you go.” He steps a little closer.

“This marriage is over.”

“Please Y/N.”

Chris leans in and kisses you softly on your lips, it caught you off guard.

“Absolutely not. Don’t ever kiss me again.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Does your new girlfriend know that you are here? I wonder how she would feel knowing you are making a move on your ex-wife?”

“Don’t say that.”

“Like I said, sign the divorce papers so I can move on.”

“Whatever. My lawyer will be in contact with yours.”

Chris walked away to the bedroom to get more clothes and such. He comes back out 20 minutes later.

“You’re already packing up shit?”

“Yes. When you sign, I’m out.”

He said something under his breath and headed out the door with his stuff. A couple of days later your lawyer called and said Chris accepted the terms.

A few weeks later you and Chris sat down with your lawyers to sign the divorce papers. As you both walked out, you noticed a young girl sitting outside the room. You finished up the conversation with your lawyer and headed out. You walked by and the young girl smirked at you. It had to be Cree. You stopped.

“Did you just smirk at me?” You wanted all the smoke.

“I’m just glad this is all finalized.”

“You must be Cree the whore. Well, best of luck to you.”

You turned to Chris.

“Did you tell Cree about you kissing me a few weeks ago when you came to get more stuff?” You faced Cree. “Don’t worry sweetie. I stopped him, but just know he was ready to risk it all.”

You turned and headed down the hall, and into your new single life!

Hope you all enjoyed this series! 💛

@whxre4cevans

@supernatural-fan151

@fallenoutofrose

@itscrazycherryblossomcollection

@coldmuffinpartycloud

@art-estrange

@coffeebooksandfandom

@arabescapr

@firoozehmoon

@mssukeyna

@tantricevans

@marvelfansworld

@pmb1976

@marvelsis

#chris evans #chris jamal evans #cevans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #fanfiction

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connorskeepers · 3 years ago

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Sometimes a dog comes into your life and changes everything. Morgan is that dog for me. She has shown me how to be more compassionate, more aware of myself, made me grow as a trainer and has shown me how to live again. She’s taken a man who was scared to go out and be by himself and helped him gain his independence back. She never lets me battle my seizures alone. Keeps me grounded during flashbacks and guides me when I can’t find my way due to dissociation or a massive cluster headache , and glued herself to me when the depression gets bad.

I didn’t plan on her becoming a service dog when I got her from her abusive ex owners. But she showed me she wanted a job and that job was keeping me safe. Now I can grocery shop alone , ride in Ubers without fearing a seizure in the back of some strangers car, i can be home alone again and feel safe. She’s really the one who saved me and I’m so thankful she did.

#Dugan sent her to me #I swear it #she’s just like him #she calls me on my bullshit #and then makes me laugh about it #my space girl #service dog in training #service dog #medical alert dog #medical response dog #sdit #wooly husky #morgan

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thepoodlepack · 4 years ago

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What's wrong with goldenpoodles? I'm genuinely curious because almost all of my dogs are mixed breeds and behave fine. So I'm curious if there's something else I'm missing

jeez this feels like bait but u kno what, you got me

alright, so it goes like this. the doodle really began with a guy in australia being like i need the temperament of a lab for a guide dog but these ppl are allergic to dogs, so i need a poodle bc they have hair, not fur. so he bred em together. years later he’s like damn that was a mistake.

now, why, exactly? alright so first of all he only needed that mix bc labs on average tend to adapt better to situations that are largely exclusive to service dog work than poodles do. i can go into what this means at a later date, but that’s basically how it is. but either way, people jumped on this creation and it kinda spiraled out of control. soon, poodles were being bred by everyone and every breed. suddenly, they were a marketing scam more then they were a dog breed.

oh theyre hypoallergenic! all of them, all the time cause zero allergies! look theyre so much better than poodles! theyre friendly and easy to train, not like poodles of course, just like labs! they’re better than labs bc none of them shed, ever! they’re super healthy bc breeding labs and poodles together wipes out all their health problems, of course!

lies, lies lies. the aussie guy, whose name i’m not going to look up bc i’m lazy but who you can find if you google creator of doodles, straight up says that even the first litter(s) of labradoodles he bred had puppies that the people he bred them for were allergic to. he very carefully tested the litter and the reaction the person had before placing a puppy that was not going to hurt them.

think of the punnet squares we all learned about in 5th grade science class. you draw the squares and one parent has two fur genes and the other parent has two hair genes and what do you get? well if you have four puppies, one might have hairhair and the next one might have hairfur and the next one might have furhair and the next one might have furfur. and so guess what? only hairhair pup is going to be the best choice for allergic people. additionally, you can see why the non-shedding thing can be bullshit, and that in particular is also a guessing game. you may be able to test allergy sufferers against the pups, but that does not necessarily mean they won’t shed. hairfur, for example, may be a good choice for some allergic people, but perhaps they’ve got just enough fur to shed anyway. also, lets look at salukis (and frankly, most long-haired sighthounds). salukis are still considered dogs with fur, not hair. they also still shed, even though it’s just a little. and yet they’re still considered good for allergy sufferers.

(ps poodles do actually shed. but they shed like humans shed. your hair comes out, doesn’t it? like, esp folks with long hair, aren’t people always complaining how you clog the shower drain? yeah, like that. ALSO obviously the situation is more complicated then super simple punnet squares and as an ex-groomer i have something to say about doodle coats but i’m going to save that for later, put a pin in it.)

oh and wait a hot minute there. i said best choice, didn’t i, not hypoallergenic. well, that’s because no dog is hypoallergenic. poodles, and a few other dog breeds, they have hair, like we do. but the thing is both humans and breeds with hair still produce the dander, though they’re different kinds. breeds with hair happen to produce the least amount possible that dogs can produce, which is why they’re a better choice for allergy sufferers, but that’s still not a guarantee. my roommate Dakota is allergic to dogs. if i don’t wash my dogs for an extended period of time (which has never happened, ever, in my life, idk what ur talking about), thus giving the chance for the dander my dogs still produce, he will have a very, very mild reaction when touching them. it can be countered by him washing his hands after touching them and also me just giving them a fucking bath, i need to stop forgetting, but still, there you go. ALSO people might not be allergic to dogs bc of their dander. they might be allergic to the saliva of dogs, which poodles or any other breed with hair still produces about the same as other dogs. so, yeah, not hypoallergenic, not at all.

the people who taut their hypoallergenic dogs for sale largely don’t do the testing required to check if they’re actually providing a dog to someone who won’t react to it. not acceptable at all.

so, labs are friendly and easy to train right? not at all like poodles, right? no. absolutely incorrect. some labs are friendly and easy to train. some labs, a lot of them when they’re puppies, are nightmare fuel. personally, i have a theory that everyone’s vision of labs in their heads are either a) service dogs or b) those old labs who are slightly pudgy (or morbidly obsess, which is a different topic) and who are graying in the face and just want to lounge around because they’re seniors now. alright, so here’s why thats bad. labs are a working breed. a retrieving breed. they’re supposed to be bulky and strong and driven. service dogs are highly trained, to a point that most pet dogs will never see, and if you see them with their actual disabled handler, they’ll probably be around 2.5 yrs of age and out of their most wild days. old labs are well. old. sleepy. maybe a bit achey. and well out of their most wild days. oh, and it’s the same type of thing with goldens by the way, the other most popular doodle type. poodles are also easy to train, especially if their parents have a decent temperament. they’re all about equal if you actually start training them when they’re puppies and just pay for some training classes, like everyone should. in the puppy classes i’m in right now, Euphoria is leaps and bounds ahead of doodles, goldens, and labs that are her age or older. I train her properly and she’s got amazing parents. that’s it, that’s the trick. not breed, not necessarily, and def not in this case.

I am once again going to say that labs and goldens are more often used as service dogs than poodles because of their adaptability, but it’s the ability to adapt to situations that most pet dogs will never have to worry about.

jeez this is a long post. i’ve still got more to cover too. alright, on to super healthy, or “hybrid vigor” as the nerds call it. uhh, it’s bullshit. thank u for ur time.

okay, but actually why on gods green earth would breeding two completely different breeds with little to no research make them super healthy? now i want to preface this with i’m (generally) pro-outcross projects. Euphoria’s dad is half mini poodle and half standard poodle, which isn’t technically an outcross bc all the variations are of the same breed, but if we’re going by genetic diversity alone minis and standards are different enough to actually be different breeds.

so, to be clear, outcrosses, given the proper thought and planning: good, results in healthier dogs (see: lua dals). randomly breeding two very different breeds together with no planning other than to sell the puppies to randos who won’t continue the outcross: bad. especially when you’re doing it to cash in and don’t health test at all, or don’t health test the major health problems with both breeds (if you’re doing an f2 breeding or anything like that). no the poodle’s health problems don’t get canceled out by the goldens or labs or whatever the other party’s health problems are, and vice versa. and yeah, i’ve looked at a lot of doodle breeder’s websites and yeah, most of them don’t health test at all, or at least don’t health test properly. do you know i own one doodle and currently live with another? yeah, i got them both from breeders and do you know how much health testing their parents got? if your answer is none, good job, you’ve been paying attention. in my defense, i was like 13, i didn’t know what i was doing.

alright, so those are the big points. this is kinda gonna be just... a mix of my other complaints. here we go, hope you’re ready for more. argument the first: i feel like it’s pretty disrespectful to reputable breeders. now, i actually have two reasons why that is. reason one: most reputable poodle breeders don’t want their breeding stock bred with other breeds, for various reasons. i’ve even met a few who used to be okay with it and then as the doodle scam got bigger and more out of control, they stopped being okay with it, even to the breeders who they had been fine with it in the past. that means a lot of doodle breeders out there have their breeding stock because they scammed poodle breeders into giving them pet quality, not breeding quality, dogs or because they’re getting their stock from non-reputable breeders. i also feel it’s disrespectful to breeders who are actually trying to create new breeds. quite frankly, a breed with the size, strength, and adaptability of a lab or golden that doesn’t shed and that has the train-ability of a poodle, lab, or golden sounds pretty interesting to me. did you know you can actually make that breed? and it wouldn’t be a cross with unpredictable... well, everything. it would actually be a true dog breed.

Look at Silken Windhounds and Biewer Terriers who began both development in the 1980s. Biewer Terriers were recognized by the AKC this year, and Silken Windhounds still haven’t been. And yeah, that’s the problem isn’t it? Making a real new breed takes a lot of time, planning, and care. People would rather just cash in. I think it’s sad and I think it’s disrespectful to the breeders who do work so hard to make actual new breeds.

and finally, unpin being an ex-groomer goddamnit. guess what? doodles are awful to groom! they’re terrible on the grooming tables because people want to have in both ways: they want a dog that doesnt shed at all and they want a dog who doesn’t need to be groomed. well guess what, that dog doesn’t exist and you can have it only one way. and also, bring back the goddamn punnet squares because a lot of doodles have awful coats. if you have hairfur and furhair over there, guess what, their coat fucking sucks bc it’s not meant to be like that. it wants to mat bc hair but also it wants the mats to slide out bc short-ish fur but its too thick for the mats to slide out bc thick hair. and yes its more complicated then this and that means its often more awful then this. its awful, it makes me want to cry. and maybe it’s slightly easier to get away with it with a shorthaired dog like a lab, or, you know what, even a golden, okay, even a slightly long haired dog like a golden but people are doodling akitas? border collies? bernese fucking mountain dogs? i am crying. i am crying right now as i type this.

lets do a sum up to this disaster of a post. look, i don’t go out there attacking or yelling at every doodle or every doodle owner i see, alright? or any of them really. i might engage in conversation to one that’s interested, but that’s it. i love my doodly Isis, okay? shes tiny and she’s adorable and I love her more than life and i will never, ever get another doodle. i don’t like the way they’ve gotten so prolific, i don’t like the reasons they’re now widespread, and i don’t like almost all of the people that create them, including the ones i’ve literally given my (parents) money to in the past. i wish they were better but i just cannot approve of them, especially not in the environment they exist in now. that said, i do support them in their original use case as assistance dogs, and i do not care about them if they’re shelter dogs.

#long post #anti doodle #text #my post #yes this took me like an hour #yes i do hate myself for it #Anonymous #oh anon im being grumpy mostly for comedy thats only funny to me #you're fine as long as you werent trying to bait me

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punkclowngod · 3 years ago

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i’ve been trying to rebuild my relationship with my ex service dog lately and it’s been hard. the reason why he’s not my service dog anymore is because he didn’t meet my expectations; he was never good enough. i stopped loving him, i stopped being the one taking care of him, i burned and crashed our relationship because he was a failure in my eyes. my mom has been the one to take care of him ever since i “disowned” him and i do feel bad for abandoning him. so i’ve been working on trying to see something else than failure when i look at him, but it’s so hard. he was supposed to help me, to save me, but he couldn’t. and i’m so mad, i’m so disappointed especially since we paid so much for him, but i’m trying. i let him up on the couch with me, i pat his head, i try to be less severe, but fuck it’s hard. what helps me is seeing him as a house dog; he’s not a working dog anymore, he’s just some house dog. he’s not my service dog, he’s my mom’s dumb house dog. but i’m still mad at him, i’m still mad that he shattered my dreams of freedom and autonomy; i thought having him would help me, but he would never be good enough, he will always fail and it hurts. i’m also mad at myself for thinking a dog would save me, that a dog could meet my expectations. but i got attached to him at first and tried my best, until exhaustion, until a burn out. and it sucks, it really does, because i just wanted help and all i got was a shovel that i used to dig myself deeper in my self-loathing grave. i wish i could have some kind of robot service dog, one that doesn’t bark, that doesn’t sniff, that doesn’t shit everywhere, but it’s impossible, so i’m stuck spending the rest of my life doing a third of what i could do if i had a competent aid. but i’m still trying, i’m trying to stop seeing him as a failure, as a manifestation of my broken dreams, of my own incompetence and my stupid expectations that are always way too high for anything or anyone to ever meet

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lone-survivor-six-tales · 4 years ago

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Ain’t That A Shot in The Head Ch.6

The walk to the strip was mostly uneventful other than the people that would stop and stare at the group that consisted of one courier, an ex NCR soldier, a follower of the apocalypse, a nightkin, a cybernetic dog and an eyebot. As they walked past the strip security and into the strip, a familiar securitron rolled up to greet Six.

"Howdy partner! Glad to see you finally made it!" Victor cheerfully greeted the group while Boone and Arcade eyed the robot suspiciously.

"What's with the robot?" Arcade whispered to Boone while Six chatted with Victor.

"I don't know, it's been following Six since I've met her. Apparently it's the one that dug her out of her grave." Bonne explained eyebrows furrowing when he saw Six. Boone was able to pick up enough of the conversation to put together what the securitron was asking her to do.

"I don't think it's a good idea to go in there alone." Boone told Six, eyeing the securitron before setting his sights on the Lucky 38.

"Sorry partner but Mr. House said only she can come in. You can wait outside for your friend to be done!" Victor's cheery voice made Boone wish he could use the bot for target practice.

"If he wants to see her so much then he should come down here himself." Arcade replied, huffing when Victor didn't even glance in his direction.

"It's alright guys." Six said, looking back at them with a small smile. Boone frowned and gently grabbed Six's arm, pulling her closer so he could speak to her without Victor hearing.

"You don't know what's in there, what if it's a trap?"

"Just give me half an hour. I promise I'll be fine Boone."

Boone wasn't reassured but he reluctantly let her go to walk into the building. Unfortunately the securitron stayed with them and seemed content to watch the group as they waited for Six to return.

"As much as I don't like the idea, we're just going to have to trust her that she'll be fine." Arcade attempted to reassure Boone before making his way back to the strip entrance. "I'll be back, I need to check with the caravans about a delivery."

Boone watched Arcade leave as he sat down on the steps of the Lucky 38. Lily had wandered off to look at the decorative plants with ED-E while Rex sat next to Boone, resting his head on Boone's knee. He gave Rex a scratch behind the ear as he watched the people walk by. He wondered if Rex was just as worried about Six as he was.

"It's ok, she said she'd be fine."

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

Six's nerves were running high as the elevator slowly climbed to the penthouse. While she told Boone she would be fine, she mostly said it to reassure herself. She didn't know why House would want to see her but the sooner she sees him then the sooner she can return to her friends.

Stepping out of the elevator into a large open area. After talking to the female securitron waiting by the elevator, Six walked through the curtain and was shocked to see a large screen with an image of a man staring right at her.

"At last, you've come a long way haven't you. Before we continue I have a question for you; what do you make of what you've seen?" A voice from the screen echoed through the room and Six quickly summarized that this must be the infamous Mr. House.

"Honestly, I've never seen anything like it but I think I prefer the Wasteland."

"Oh come now, don't start preaching to me about the virtues of life out in the wastes. You do realize there's nothing out there except for a radioactive desert." House scoffed, while the image was still on the screen, Six could almost feel House rolling his eyes at her statement.

"Not everything is a desert." Six replied, thinking about the few memories she has from the capital wasteland. "I'm sure you didn't call me here to discuss our preferences so what is it you want from me?"

"Ah straight to the point, I like that. One of my employees has stolen an item of extraordinary value from me, and I want it recovered. I believe you know this man well enough. After all, he's the one that attacked you and your companion and left you for dead."

"Wait, you know about Charon? Do you know where he is?" Six tried stepping closer to the screen and was blocked by the two securitrons flanking each side of the monitors.

"I'm afraid I don't know the location of your companion, Benny should know what happened to him since he organized the attack on you. I don't care what happens to Benny but when you bring the chip to me I will pay you four times the amount of your delivery bonus agreed in your contract."

"Why me? Why do you need this chip so badly?" Six had so many questions but was given nothing in return as one of the securitrons began pushing her out of the room.

"All will be explained when you return the platinum chip to me." Was all house said as she was pushed into the elevator and sent on her way.

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

"Anything yet?"

Boone tossed the tennis ball Rex found to the dog before looking up at Arcade who was approaching the building. ED-E beeped happily and floated around Arcade while Rex bounded over, hoping Arcade would toss the ball to him just like Boone.

"Did you get what you needed?" Boone asked as Arcade sat down next to Boone. He whistled for Rex who kept trying to push the saliva soaked ball into Arcade's hand, much to his displeasure.

"Unfortunately no, apparently the caravan I hired has been dealing with attacks recently." Arcade frowned as he gave ED-E a pat while he pondered his next course of action. Their convenience was interrupted by a sound coming from Victor behind them.

"Your friend is done with her meeting with Mr. House! You've now been invited to stay in the high roller suite during your stay at the strip. You can find her in the cocktail lounge near the top of the tower, " Victor explained before rolling away. Boone and Arcade looked at each other before getting up and calling Lily over. Boone was the first to enter the building, looking around for any sign of danger before approaching the elevator. The group entered the elevator and rode up to the level marked cocktail lounge. Boone relaxed when the doors opened and he saw the familiar beret of Six sitting at one of the couches by the windows. Boone walked over to Six and noticed she was staring off into space with a worried look on her face.

"Six"

Six jumped and looked up at Boone with wide eyes. Immediately he noticed the streaks of tears that cut across her dirt covered cheeks. He sat down next to her and while he didn't say anything, Six knew he was wondering what was wrong.

"I feel like I'm getting dragged into something big. It feels like I've been in the same situation before and I don't know what to do." She pulled her legs up onto the couch and buried her face in her knees. She heard Rex whine age felt his tongue licking her fingers in an attempt to comfort her. After a few moments of silence she felt Boone shift next to her and his voice sounded closer than before.

"You know, I used to have a dog."

Six looked up to see Boone had moved closer to her to let Rex on the head. His other arm was draped over the back of the couch and she could almost feel the heat radiating off him from how close he was.

"Found her in the fields behind our house when I was ten. I tried hiding her in my room but mom found her real quick. I think I spent three days begging mom to keep her. I still don't know if she gave in because she realized I really wanted a dog or because she wanted me to finally be quiet."

Six chuckled softly, tilting her head back and resting her head on Boone's arm. "You know, the more you talk about your past the more I can't see how that goofy kid turned into your brooding ass."

Boone was silent, looking out at the strip below them. He hadn't been to the strip since his marriage with Carla. He can still remember how he met her after stumbling out of Gomorrah with his first recon buddies and bumping into Carla. He wondered if she'd still be alive and happy if he never ran into her at all. Though if he had never met Carla, he probably never would have lived long enough to have met Six.

"Maybe I'll tell you another time." He finally said, looking down at Six who had fallen asleep curled up against him.

"I'm pretty sure she didn't sleep at all on the way back from Jacobstown." Arcade said, walking up and passing Boone a glass of whiskey. Arcade sat down on the open couch across from him and took a sip of his own drink. "House must have said something that got to her."

Boone nodded, taking a large mouthful of whiskey before placing the glass down on the table between them. "Do we have any idea how she's going to even get close to this Benny guy?"

"Actually Six and I planned that out on the way back. Unfortunately the thing we need for this to work was supposed to be delivered by that Cassidy Caravan service that was hit. We're going to have to find that package before we can do anything. But for now," Arcade gestured to Six who had unconsciously clung to Boone's shirt in her sleep. "We should let her get some rest. I think the robot said we can stay in the high roller suite."

Boone agreed as he carefully picked up Six. Carrying her reminded him when he was rushing to save her after her cazador attack. He could see the scar still visible peeking out from under the shorts Six wore as he placed her in the bed of the largest room on the floor. He had to gently pry her fingers off his shirt before he could leave as Rex who had followed them up jumped into the bed next to her.

"Watch her back for me, okay boy?" Boone asked, getting a soft yip from Rex in confirmation before he left the room to return to the longue. When he returned he poured himself another glass of whiskey, hoping to silence the voices in his head telling him if he wasn't around then Carla would be alive and Six wouldn't have almost died to a cazador.

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

Six was confused when she woke up in a soft bed instead of the couch. As she sat up she was attacked with kisses from Rex which caused Six to laugh while trying to push the dog away.

"Alright, alright. I love you too now let me go."

Walking out of the room, Six checked the other rooms to find Arcade and Lily asleep in beds in another room. When she didn't find Boone she headed up to the longue to look for Boone. She found him asleep on one of the couches. An empty bottle of whiskey sat on the table next to him. As she moved closer she could hear him groaning and wincing in his sleep. Thinking he was having a nightmare she reached out to shake his shoulder.

"Boone, wake up."

She tried shaking him harder when suddenly her wrist was grabbed in a tight grip. Six winced and tried to pull her hand back which only made his grip tighten.

"Boone wake up, your hurting me." Six called out to him, raising her voice. She tried to tug her wrist back and cried out in pain when she felt a sharp pain shoot through her wrist.

"Boone!"

Rex growled and kept up and bit down on Boone's ankle, making him let out a pained shout as he shot up awake. Six stumbled back, tripping over the corner of the table and falling to the floor.

"Rex what the hell? Six? What happened?" Boone's gaze moved from Rex to Six and finally to the hand she was clutching against her chest. Boone felt sick as he stood up and walked over to kneel next to Six.

"Did I do that?"

Boone knew the answer when he saw Six flinch when he tried reaching out to her. Boone was silent as he looked away from Six and stood up, walking to the elevator. When Arcade woke not too long after, he found Six in the lounge trying to wrap her sprained wrist. There was no sign of Boone except for his beret and sunglass that were left forgotten on the table.

#fallout fanfic #fallout OC #fallout new vegas #fallout 3 #craig boone #arcade gannon

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1248

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say? I feel like I’ve answered a similar situation recently, but I would assume it was a drunk text or wrong text, inform them about it, and move on.

Do you play video games? Nah. I do feel a sort of connection of video games since I grew up surrounded by them, though; but I’m more of a watcher than anything. I like watching playthroughs of video games I’ll never play. Do you spend a lot of time with family? No. We used to, back when the quarantine was still a relatively new thing – we hung out in the living room all the time. But now that we’ve settled in this new normal, we’re back to our normal routines and I usually like staying in my room.

Is your house more than two stories tall? Technically, yes. We have a rooftop that serves as the ‘third’ floor.

Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you? My ex and I never hit one another; that’s a gigantic red flag even I would notice, considering I ignored most of the ones I saw hahaha.

What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!) I’m not sure if I’ll be able to answer this question directly, but I like my generosity. I’m not sure if I can call it attractive, though. But if we were focusing on physical features, I like my smile.

What color is your hairbrush/comb? Pink.

What snacks do you have available in your household atm? My dad splurged on chips in his last grocery run so we actually have quite a lot of junk food in the pantry at the moment. He also bought several packs of cookie sandwiches, wafers, sunflower seeds, and garlic-flavored peanuts.

Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive? Neither.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? No, she’s just a good friend of mine.

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you? I guess I don’t, because I’m not even aware of them.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female? Guy. It was another reporter, so I just ignored it and luckily he didn’t PM me just to ask to add him back, which others have already done. I really hate when work people try to make their way into my personal accounts.

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? My parents, especially when they are rude to service crew. Gen X-ers are impeccably talented at that, apparently.

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? Around two or three weeks ago when I had dinner at Angela’s. Her dad gave me a bar of Crunch so I can have something sweet after our meal.

Do you play any games on Facebook? No, I never did hop on that trend.

What would you like to get a degree in? I wanted a degree in journalism, and graduated with such. At the end of my college stint I didn’t want to pursue it anymore, but I pushed through with it anyway because it was too much of a hassle to shift and start all over.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Technically not, because I stay up until the middle of the night anyway. It’s been a while since I fell asleep anywhere between 8 to 10 PM.

Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Watch a show.

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? I don’t like either; I get fries instead.

What genre of films do you like the best? Drama.

How many bank accounts do you have? Two but I haven’t been using the other one in months. That was the bank account I initially opened when I first started ~adulting~ but when I got employed I was required to enroll in this other specific bank, so that’s what I mainly use now.

Have you ever had the flu? Not really. I just get the occasional fever that pop out of nowhere.

What is your goal for the next few months? Start saving FOR REAL, and also prioritizing furniture over merch for a while so I can finally fix up my room, which is quickly starting to look and feel like just a warehouse and not very homey at all.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life? Nope.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience. Yeah, it was from barbecue that apparently went bad, even though it tasted nothing of the sort. I woke up at 3 AM sweating profusely and with the most excruciating stomachache; I was feeling hot, cold, and nauseous all at the same time, and it probably lasted for like an hour or so.

What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for? Sealed albums and my pets’ vet expenses.

Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex. Charming and smart.

Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it? It felt nice to help people.

You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? Good question; I’ve never encountered this before. I would let her live a more comfortable, privileged life, where she didn’t have to staple her shoes to keep them closed or have to choose between eating at a fast food restaurant or being able to commute back home.

Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I’m not sure, actually. Everyone’s always slightly taller than me.

Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you? I haven’t.

Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see? Tumblr, I guess? My survey blog isn’t for any irls to see.

Which is worse: dusting or mopping? I don’t really do either often, but I’ll go with mopping.

Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious? Not for me.

Did you pull a senior prank? No, that’s not a thing here. Did you graduate? Yeah, elementary, high school, and college.

Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? Nope.

What was the last song you listened to? It’s a song called Epiphany.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision? Not ever since I was like 9 lol.

Is fashion one of your interests? I’m way more interested in it now for sure, mostly because the celebrities I’m into these days put a lot of effort when it comes to their style; so it makes me more aware of the trends that come and go, as well.

Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone? I’m keeping it as a possibility, but it’s not a priority for me now.

Do you care what people think? To an extent, I would say. My life doesn’t depend on it, though.

Is acting something you enjoy? Never been.

What was the last thing you broke/sprained? Do you mean a thing or a body part? Anyway, I’ll answer both. The last thing I broke was my BTS Mic Drop pen of V looooooooooool the figurine came off the pen :(( It was pretty cheap though so I’m fine with it; I can always get another one. Last body part I sprained was my ankle, when I had a bad fall a couple of years ago.

Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours? Either hasn’t happened.

Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language? I don’t think so.

Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at? Angela’s. Also JM’s, just because their family doesn’t hover and that vibe can sometimes be nice whenever I’m at someone else’s place.

Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you? Never.

Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? Not as a very young kid, but I took up table tennis starting when I was 12. Did you ever watch the show Full House? Nope.

Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry? Now that’s just delusional haha. I’m pretty obsessed with some celebrities, that much I can admit; but thinking of them in the context of marriage is so many steps overboard.

Have you ever burned someone’s picture? No. I could, but I am scared of fire and will probably just think of other ways to express my anger, like tearing up the photograph. What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on? Total length was probably like 3 hours. I haven’t gone too far when it comes to hiking.

Would you ever get a lip tattoo? Not interested.

Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Hans.

Do your parents smoke cigarettes? My mom tried it once in her life, I think. My dad has never smoked.

What does one of your T-shirts have written on it? “Hope right here!”

Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. Anything that’s supposed to roam freely in the wild, like squirrels.

Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller? Taller, since I’m already quite pint-sized to begin with lol.

Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures. < Agree, especially with the eras. Childhood photos are always fun to look at, but I have had to delete a CHUNK of photos from years ranging from 2014 to 2020 because I’ve lost a handful of friends from that period.

Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? It’s hard to for the most part, but I’ve noticed very few people people really don’t. Most of the time it’s bullshit though.

What did you love the most about the town you grew up in? That it’s pretty close to the metro.

What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during? Hmm, I prefer TV shows if I’m craving comedy.

What’s a movie you cried the hardest during? Life Is Beautiful.

What’s your favorite restaurant? Omakase for my sushi fix; School Tteokbokki if I want Korean; Yabu if I’m looking for a generous rice meal.

Is there a dessert you don’t like? Anything with fruits.

Favorite album? After Laughter by Paramore.

What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it? I can name authors instead of books – John Green and Haruki Murakami.

Underwater or outer space? Outer space.

Dogs or cats? Dogs.

Kittens or puppies? Puppies.

Bird watching or whale watching? Whale watching. I don’t get to be in the water as much, so I would jump at the opportunity.

What is your spirit animal? I dunno if I have one but let’s just go with dog and elephant, I guess? They’re my favorites.

What was your best subject in school? History.

What was your worst subject in school? Chemistry.

What is one thing you wish you knew in high school? Don’t waste your time.

Who is your fashion icon? Audrey Hepburn.

Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds.

What color dress did you wear to prom? For my own prom it was cream-colored/beige. When I went to Mike’s ball, I went with a royal blue gown.

What’s your favorite plot-twist? I don’t think I’ve found my favorite yet.

Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? Not actively.

Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad? I dunno...road rage, maybe?

Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad? It’s very likely.

Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out? Sometime in the last week.

Ever pop someone else’s pimple? No thanks.

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? Nope.

Who are you closest to? Angela.

Have you ever had a bad concert experience? No, all the ones I’ve been to have been amazing experiences.

Are you currently sad about anything? Not really. I can’t complain.

Have you had any form of exercise today? Nah.

Can you handle blood? Nope, I will feel faint if I see it 100%.

Has any place hired you underage for a job? No.

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? I haven’t.

Are you currently searching for a job? No, I like the one I have.

Does eating breakfast make you sick? No?

#survey #surveys

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brialavellan · 4 years ago

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BG3 Oc Prompt

(Finally did it! Thank you @heyitsharding for the prompt! It’s not as complete as I’d like it to be because I’m still building backstory)

Under a cut b/c it’s long

1. Is their name Tav, or do they have a custom name? Any meaning behind that name?

Her name is Moira. She was named by her father to honor his late sister.

2. What’s their culture?

She’s a half-elf originally from Athkatla, but she’s been away from her city of origin for decades. She spent a few years in Waterdeep attending the bard college there but the vast majority of her life has been in Baldur’s Gate.

3. What’s their background?

Well, after she graduated, she found employment with a noble doing basic spycraft and other stuff like that for her patron for a few years. After an intrigue went wrong and she ended up almost dying (and killing a few others in self-defense), she fled Waterdeep, finding employment in Beregost as a court herald for the local town, then moving to Baldur’s Gate to be a court herald there. She’s been doing that for a few decades now (she’s 100)

4. What’s their class? Subclass?

Bard (well, when they add the bard class - she’s a rogue in this playthrough for now)

5. What do they look like? Do you have a favourite pic of them? Share it!

(not a good pic, but I don’t feel like rolling back the new patch to get a better one)

6. Are they a totally new character for this game or are they ported in from another 5e game you play?

Totally new, highly self indulgent creation related to my BG1 and BG2 protag

7. Do they fit on the traditional DnD alignment? If so where?

I guess they’d be close to neutral good. It poses some problems as a court herald because she is supposed to maintain neutrality in the face of injustice sometimes, and what she witnesses sometimes irks her. She has little respect for the nobility.

8. Who is their deity?

They don’t have one. She doesn’t deny the divinity of the gods, but she hasn’t aligned herself to one in particular. It was a minor sticking point with her father, who was a knight in service of Helm and wished to pass that on to her, but he still supported her nonetheless.

9. What’s their favourite spell or ability?

She doesn’t have a particular “favorite” but she does admit sometimes she’ll use a mage hand cantrip when she’s feeling lazy

10. Who do they get on best with in the party?

She gets along best with Gale and Wyll

11. Who do they not get on with in the party?

She really tries, but she cannot vibe with Lae’zel being so, as she perceives them to be, cold and brutal for literally no reason. Conversely, Lae’zel thinks she is too soft-hearted, naïve and weak

12. Any blossoming romances in the party?

She definitely has a thing for Gale and spent the night with him. She won’t fret if nothing comes of it, but she would be lying if she didn’t hope something more happens between them.

13. Who do they dream of at night?

If they ever used the tadpole, they would dream of an ex-girlfriend they were with for a few years with while they were in Waterdeep, a tiefling warlock named Aisha

14. Do they hail from Baldur’s Gate? Are they proud of where they come from?

They are not from Baldur’s Gate and have no attachment to Athkatla either. Really, they are a nomad at heart. Places are just...places. She cares far more about the people she has made friends with - and she has made a couple of friends in Baldur’s Gate

15. Do they have any family back home? If so tell me about them?

Both of her parents are deceased and she has no siblings (and is unaware of any living extended family)

16. Do they have any good friends back home? If so tell me about them?

She has her fellow heralds, but she wouldn’t call them close friends

17. Do they have any lovers back home? If so tell me about them?

They’ve been married to their work for quite a while and as they’ve gotten older (they are, in human terms, advanced middle-aged), they’ve become less interested. Well, at least, they were. Gale is the first time anyone piqued her interest for a while

18. Are they engaging with the illithid? Or avoiding contact?

Avoiding all contact at any cost

19. What do they think of the Absolute?

That she sounds like a crock of shit and she has no interest in anything this Absolute offers besides a cure

20. Goblins or Tieflings?

Tieflings

21. Anders or Karlach?

Karlach. She sensed Anders was lying and turned out to be right

22. Combat or Skill checks? If the latter, what is your character’s go-to method of getting their own way?

Primarily skill checks, usually persuasion or deception. She doesn’t like violence and doesn’t seek it out

23. Did your character pursue any of the possible… cures?

She did look into Nettie helping her out (which failed, obviously) but refused the goblin priestess and Ethel

24. How did they deal with Kagha?

They successfully convinced her to release Arabella (with no save scumming, amazingly!) and while they disagreed with Halsin letting her stay, they didn’t really feel it was their place to question it

25. How did they deal with Auntie Ethel?

Killed her

26. How did they deal with Nettie?

They convinced her to give her the antidote and promised they would drink the poison if they felt the change, which wasn’t hard. She will definitely off herself if she thinks that will come to pass

27. Did they help Barcus Wroot?

Yep

28. Did they help Alfira?

Of course - she is a singer too. The agony of being a creative, she can absolutely relate

29. Did they help Arabella?

They helped save Arabella from Kagha (if that’s what this is asking - I know you can help steal the idol but she wouldn’t help Arabella do that)

30. What’s your favourite sub-quest?

I really like helping the myconids. I just think they’re neat

31. What’s your favourite location so far?

The Underdark. It’s so eerily beautiful yet alien. The one thing I don’t like is switching to party members w/o darkvision b/c then I can’t see

32. Who is your favourite non-party NPC?

Probably a three way tie between Karlach, Halsin and Mol

33. Does your camp have any pets?

Got both the dog and the owlbear cub :D

34. What do you hope will happen for your character in the next act?

I’d like her to find out what the Absolute is 35. What do you hope will happen for your character over the course of the game?

Good things, hopefully!

(also @teknon, I hope you enjoy this)

#oc: moira delryn #her name should be familiar to anyone who had a slightly insufferable fighter/cleric dude in their party in bg2///#call me cringe but fuck it - its easy character creation///

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crystaldwightsworld · 4 years ago

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Adam, post surgery, on medical leave...

So... I’ve got this whole, weird, crazy, obviously non canon idea in my head for something I wanna do.

It’s obvious that Adam is struggling even after the 6 months of medical leave Sarif has given him but what’s been on my mind is, what’s he been doing in the 6 months prior?

Surely, drinking up a storm, smoking and eating massive amounts of cereal to try and manage to cope but I can’t imagine the amount of pain he must have been in in adjusting to his augmentations. I mean, severe pain, agony and anguish. Not to mention the clear breakdown he has the first night he gets home from the clinic. I’m talking a severe breakdown, crying, beating on the wall of his shower, wailing, angry and pained tears. It’s all he can do on most days other than get out of bed. He’s fallen to the bottom pit of a depressive state that he can’t even be bothered to clean up after himself (i.e. the piles of empty cereal bowls strewn about counter tops and tables, unpacked belongings, etc), let alone look at himself (the first broken mirror). Adam loathes his augs, suffers greatly with body dysphoria now that more than half his body is gone and replaced with mechanical limbs he never consented to but on top of all of it, his ex-girlfriend is gone, whom he was really good friends with even after the break up. Even his dog is gone.

He’s become aware of how serious his neglect is getting. As much as he’d like to handle it on his own and as much as he prefers being a loner, there’s a big part of him that knows he can’t, especially when he has more days where he just wants nothing more than to lay in bed. So, he hires somebody. A maid in such words but she’s more like a house sitter but also called on to be a caregiver for Adam, to Adam. Her name is Adley and even though Adam isn’t quite sure at first with how young she is (she’s 24, yes, major age difference, if that bothers you, then I understand) she adheres and abides by his politely requested rules in keeping his apartment tidy and kempt following in keeping an eye on him, his health and his daily exercises in adjusting with his augs. It’s a long, grueling six months for them both but she’s been better than he would have ever asked for. She’s extremely mindful in keeping his privacy in mind, knocks on the door before entering, doesn’t touch anything she’s not supposed to or rearranging his possessions, keeps his extensive collection of cereals in stock, makes sure he takes his medicine and eats all while being even as quiet as he is, unless she’s playing music that she politely asks to play while she works on her surroundings, trip-hop she called it, some bands he’s never heard of, massive attack and unkle (to which he’s caught her on more than one occasion dancing to while she worked, and yes, he finds it rather cute). He appreciates her but doesn’t quite know how to show or tell her. She does more for him other than provide a service.

Adley, on the other hand, likes Adam, has grown to admire him. Like, really likes him although it’s something she’d never admit to anyone. She genuinely cares for him and his well being and has shown it to him, even in his supposed unawareness of it (i.e. covering him with a blanket after he’s fallen asleep on the couch or in his bed, closing the door and hardly bothering him on days where his pain levels are too much to handle, chatting with him in the early hours of the morning through messenger or skype when he can’t sleep, sending him memes she knows he’d find funny). Adam’s augmentations don’t bother her but when she shows up one afternoon after Adam’s taken off to an appointment at a LIMB clinic, she discovers just how serious his self loathe really is when she finds the mirror in his bathroom shattered to pieces, cracked and broken with one perfectly shaped impact of what she thinks is his fist. It’s not hard for her to put two and two together. Adam hated himself and would rather destroy a reflective surface than catch a glimpse of himself in it. It breaks her heart, especially since she found him more than attractive, augs or no augs, she’d feel the same. She’d worked hard to gain Adam’s trust and now that she has it, she feels that she might be jeopardizing it by bringing up concerns.

It bothers her immensely to the point where her bother shifts quickly in worry with a desperate need to tell him, to show him that he shouldn’t... when he does. She brings it up after he arrives back, genuine concern laced in her voice when she questions him about it.

“The mirror... did you- did you break it?”

But, alas, the stoic that he was, he brushes if off immediately and claims that it was nothing. Claims that he’s fine. Retreats to the confines of his room with nothing more than a peep uttered, leaving Adley to her thoughts, confused and conflicted. She knows better than to push him on it.

It’s the third one he’s broken. He hadn’t meant for her to find it. Had forgotten completely that it was one of those days where she made her routine visits. But even then, the mirror still would have been there, she still would have noticed it. He spends nearly the rest of the evening, glaring and gawking at his handiwork, reflecting on the force of his punch, the anger in what was left of his veins, the ache still hiding behind his steel heart (literally). He doesn’t realize just how long he’s been sitting there lost in a daze until she knocks on the frame of his doorway, announcing that she was about to leave for the evening and asking if he needed anything. That was Adley. Always so sweet and kind, worried about him way before she’d be worried about herself. With shoulders still slumped and his back still to her, he finally manages to speak, the first words he’s spoken to her in hours.

“Adley, can I talk to you for a minute?” His raspy low voice asks to her. There’s absolutely no lilt or fall to his tone but her heart nearly sinks to her feet, so certain that this was going to be the last time she’d ever see him, that he was going to fire her. Either way, she steps into the room and makes her way over to him, standing a few feet away from him in waiting for his dismissal, her fingers anxiously fidgeting in her nervousness.

It’s a long, empty and barren silence between them before he finally turns to match her gaze. There was no point in ignoring it any longer.

“I broke the mirror.” He admits. His confession surprises her.

“You’re not firing me?” She asks, to his surprise.

“Of course not, why would I?” He asks, genuinely confused.

“I thought I- I-I don’t know, maybe I had over stepped a line or something.” She brings up, her voice breaking and cracking. She’s nervous, Adam senses. “Why did you break the mirror?”

Adam inhales and sighs heavily, stretching his lengthy legs out in front of him and combing his fingers through his hair. He takes one last quick glance at his destroyed mirror before reminding himself not to look at it and shifting his gaze back to Adley. She’s not expecting it when he retracts his eye shields. She’s never seen him without them.

“Because... because I hate these fucking augs, I hate looking at them, what they make me. They’re apart of me now and there’s nothing I can do about it. I almost died on that table, Adley. They say they saved my life but... with what they had to do to do it, with what they gave me... sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off dead. Should have let me die there. I can hardly stand to look at myself because that’s not me, that’s not... Adam. I- for fuck’s sake, I can’t even jack off, cannot get my goddamn rhythm back- I-” He pauses, realizing what he just said with his mind running rampant with thoughts, he hadn’t even thought twice about what he was saying. Adley still stood there, waiting and listening to him although was now doing a horrible job to hide the smile that had appeared on her lips.

It’s faint, hardly there at all but even in the dim light seeping through his blinds that was the Detroit night, she catches the grin that appears just ask quick as it vanishes, watching Adam close his eyes against the embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry Adley, I’m sure you don’t wanna listen to me vent and rant.” Adam breaks the awkward silence.

“N-no Adam, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep you, if you need to leave-”

“No, I don’t but... Adam.” She says, her gaze lifting towards the bathroom where his broken mirror resided. He catches her glimpse. She has no idea how to put it into words, that his augmented limbs didn’t scare her, how much she adored him, how much she pondered and thought about him, immersed in fantasies and scenarios that would never happen...

“Can I try something? I mean, show you, I don’t know.” She asks him, wanting his permission. He nods. She wastes no time in making herself comfortable in front of him, between his now pulled up knees and... on hers before him. This is, this was highly, highly suggestive but he waits for her, enamored in her tiny frame in the darkness of his bedroom.

Her lacquered fingers lift cautiously and reach for his alloy plated hands. Augmented hands didn’t sense touch the exact same way skin did but either way, he could still feel her hands in his, her flesh chilled but cradling his carbon black fingers with a tenderness he had all but forgotten. She has no idea where this new found confidence was coming from but with her trust that she held with him, she’s not afraid to let her hand explore his forearm, letting his other touch her face as she pushes her cheek against his palm, almost lovingly all the while a gawking Adam stared at her, mouth slightly agape, his heart, artificial or not, thudding rampantly against the steel wall of his chest cavity. She... had no idea what this meant to him, what it felt like to be touched again. He’s so overwhelmed and fixated on her hands on him that he has to remember to tell himself to breathe.

“I don’t see the augs, Adam. I... only see you. Yes, apart of you may be gone, may have been taken from you but... this is still you, this is the Adam I know. Augs or no augs, I’d feel the same way. Trust me when I say that I don’t let just anybody near me like this, let alone touch. I don’t see a machine, a product. I see you, a man, my um- well my friend, I guess, if I’m being honest.” She tells him. Of course if she were really being honest, she’d tell him he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, that no one compared to him.

He may not show the emotion on his face but it’s written well in his eyes, glimmering in the low light and contracting in taking her in. They’d been close before but nothing like this, nothing intimate. Her hands move to his face, her skin grazing against his and goddamn, he could almost melt with the tiny brushes of her pinky fingers invading into his hair line.

“I can’t change the way you think or feel Adam but... next time, come to me maybe? You know I’m always okay to talk if you need to. A three in the morning skype call has never stopped you before, don’t let this stop you now. Not because you’re paying me but because I want to. That’s what people do when they care for each other. They help the other.”

He’s speechless, has absolutely no idea what to say but he words have touched him somewhere deep down in the wallows of his broken mind. And her hands on his face, he had forgotten what it was like to be touched again. As much as he’s fighting to hold them back, he can’t help the stray tears that roll down his prominent cheeks, Adley’s skinny long fingers brushing them away as she still cradled his face in her hands.

It’s quiet for some time between them, nothing but the sound of Adam’s breathing filling the empty silence. She’s not expecting anything, especially from Adam, he’s always been so guarded and blocked off and she’s more than used to it by now. It nearly knocks the breath out of her lungs when he pulls her to him, his arms hooked underneath her shoulders as he clung to her. She’s more than happy to reciprocate the hug, her arms wrapped around his waist and holding him close, this moment, she had played over so many times in her head yet it had never went this way. Adam was quiet as he held and hugged her to him but she doesn’t mind, even when his hold on her tightens. She’d stay there for as long as he needed her to.

“Stay with me.” His low voice whispers to her in the pregnant silence. Her eyes widen at his request. “Stay with me tonight. Please?” He pleads, his voice longing and desperate.

“Adam, I- I don’t have any clothes with me.” She reminds him.

“You can wear mine.” He offers. She smiles.

“I-I need to shower as well, I should really get going.”

“You can use my shower.” He assures her. Again, she smiles, huffing out a laugh. He pulls away to look at her, his fingers tangling and intertwining with hers. “Please, stay with me. I don’t want you to go.”

She can’t say no to that.

“Alright, Adam. I’ll stay.”

As much as he preferred being alone, he felt comforted to know that she’d be there in the morning with him. Maybe they could cuddle in bed together until noon, get up and make breakfast together. Well, she could teach him, at least.

“Well, if I’m gunna be staying here, we need to figure out the food situation. I don’t know about you but I’m starving. You wanna order take out?” Adley suggests, pulling away and standing.

“What, no cereal?” Adam chides.

“Adam, I am not eating cereal for dinner!” Adley whines as she makes her way back out into his kitchen.

“Why not? It’s good!”

“Adam!”

He joins her back out in the kitchen, looking and searching through the massive collection of restaurant menus he had stockpiled. It’s the happiest he’s felt in months. He couldn’t wait to wake up next to her in the morning.

#this turned into a fic i guess #adam jensen #deus ex #deus ex human revolution #adam post op #my OC #adam x adley #its all gunna go to hell when adam finds out about megan #adley davis

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keyofjetwolf · 4 years ago

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Pitch Me your thing!

HELLO HELLO MY SUNBEAMS. For most every category, there was an impressive turn-out for pitches, so I thought we’d utilize the weirdness of this year’s GIFTENING to give something new a try. The popular vote winner for each category will happen on the first day, but on the second, the winner will be chosen from YOUR PITCHES. Mostly those pitches will be to me. The exception is in Miscellaneous, where you’ll be pitching to my family, because what I want to do and what is most entertaining isn’t necessarily the same thing.

So! How will we do this thing? GLAD YOU ASKED. I’ll link you to a form in a minute with space for one pitch. Once you fill it out, you’ll be asked if you want to do another. There’s no limit to the number of pitches you can send in! But remember that if you submit multiple entries for the same category, you’ll basically be competing against yourself.

NOW WE’VE GOT SOME RULES FOR DOING THIS (which I mostly stole from Holligay, because I have no creativity this year). Please read them carefully! I’ll toss pitches that break any of these, and I’d rather your hard work not go to waste.

Pitch Me is open for your submissions from RIGHT NOW (22 December) through the very last day of this hellyear (31 December) at 11:59pm MT.

The thing you pitch must have come from what was nominated for THE GIFTENING 2020. (Full list of those nominations in every category below the cut on this post.)

Entries must be unsigned! I’m looking to chose based on the pitch alone, regardless of who submitted it.

The pitch itself must be 100 words or less. HAVE PITY ON ME I CAN ONLY CONSUME SO MUCH.

If you’d like to get some help, ideas, feedback, all that good stuff, the Discord is a FANTASTIC resource I encourage you to use.

HERE IS YOUR PITCH SUBMISSION LINK

And, as promised, below the cut you’ll find the list of all the nominees in every category you guys sent in this year. IT’S A LONG LIST HAVE FUN WITH THAT

Anime

A Place Further Than The Universe/Sora Yori mo Toi Basho Ace Attorney (Gyakuten Saiban) Action Heroine Cheer Fruits Aggretsuko Aho Girl Air Master Akuma No Riddle Alien Nine Angel Beats! Angelic Layer Appare-Ranman Aria Aria the Animation Arrietty/ The Secret World of Arrietty (Ghibli film) Ascendance of a Bookworm Azumamga Daioh Baccano! Beastars Black Cat Blood + (the series) Bloom Into You Blue Drop/Tenshitachino Gikyoku Bodacious Space Pirates (starting right where you left off) BOFURI: I Don't Want to Get Hurt, so I'll Max Out My Defense Boku no hero academia Bubblegum Crisis Card Captor Sakura: Clear Card Cardcaptor Sakura Castlevania the Animated Series Cells at Work Chaos; Head Chihayafuru Code Geass cowboy Bebop Cyborg 009 Death Note Death Parade Deca-Dence Demon Girl Next Door Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba) Diebuster: Aim For the Top 2 Dog Days dorohedoro Dot Hack//SIGN Dr. Stone Elfen Lied Erased (Boku Dake Ga Inai Machi) Escaflowne Excel Saga Fantastic Children Fate/Zero Flip Flappers Fresh Precure Fruits Basket 2019 Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Ga rei Zero GaoGaiGar gekkan shoujo nozaki-kun Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex Ghost Stories (dubbed) Girls' Last Tour Great Pretender Hoseki no Kuni/ Land of the Lustrous House of Five Leaves/ Saraiya Goyou Inari konkon koi iroha Interviews with Monster Girls Inuyasha Isekai Izakaya "Nobu" Jellyfish Princess/ Kuragehime JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable Kaguya-sama Love Is War Kaleido Star Kannazuki no Miko Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! Kemono Friends Kiki's Delivery Service Kimi ni Todoke: From Me To You Kino's Journey/Kino no Tabi (2003) Land of the Lustrous (Houseki no Kuni) Little Witch Academia Lord El-Melloi II's Case Files EP0 {"A Grave Keeper") Love is Hard for an Otaku Love Live! Sunshine!! lupin the 3rd part 4 Madoka: The Rebellion Movie Magic knight rayearth Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha March Comes in Like a Lion Mardock Scramble Master of Martial Hearts Mawaru Penguindrum Megalobox Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid Mob Psycho 100 Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) Monster Mushishi My Bride is a Mermaid (Seto No Hanayome) My Love Story!!! My Neighbor Totoro My Next Life As A Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom My Roommate is a Cat NANA Naruto Natsume’s Book of Friends Neon Genesis Evangelion (hateblog) New Cutey Honey Nichijou Ōban Star-Racers One Piece Ouran High school Host club Outlaw Star Paranoia Agent Perfect Blue Please Save My Earth Pop Team Epic Pretty Cure Fresh Princess Jellyfish/ Kuragehime Princess Mononoke Princess Principal Princess Tutu Project A-Ko promised neverland (/yakusoku no neverland) Psycho-Pass Ranma 1/2 Re: Cutie Honey Re:Creators Read or Die (OAV) Red Garden relife Revolutionalry Girl Utena Rose of Versailles Ruroni Kenshin Sailor Moon Sailor Moon (viz dub) Samurai Champloo (english dub) Sarazanmai School Days School-Live! Scum's Wish Senki Zesshou Symphogear (listed as just "Symphogear" on Crunchyroll.) Serei no Moribito (Guardian of the Spirit) Shin Sekai Yori (From The New World) Shirobako Shoujo Kageki Revue Starlight Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle Smile Pretty Cure (Japanese original)/ Glitter Force (english adaptation) Snow White with the Red Hair Sound Euphonium Strawberry Panic (yuri) Sweetness and Lightning The Devil is a Part-timer The Devil Lady The disasterous life of saiki k (saiki kusuo no Sai Nan) The End of Evangelion (movie) the Promised Neverland The Twelve Kingdoms Tiger & Bunny Tokimeki Tonight ToraDora Tsubasa Chronicle Umineko When They Cry Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid Vinland Saga Violet Evergarden Whispered Words (Sasameki Koto) With a Dog AND a Cat, Every Day is Fun Yona of the Dawn Yu Yu Hakusho Yugioh Duel Monster Yuki Yuna is a Hero Yuri Kuma Arashi Yuri On Ice!!! Zoids: Chaotic Century Zombie Land Saga

Non-Anime Animated

Adventure Time Amphibia Animainiacs (Original) Animaniacs (Reboot) Archie's Weird Mysteries As Told By Ginger Barbie Life in The Dreamhouse Batman the Animated Series Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot Big Mouth Bob's Burgers Bojack Horseman Bravest Warriors Captain N: the Game Master Carmen Sandiego (1994) Carmen Sandiego (2019) Castlevania (Netflix) Cats Don't Dance Coco Courage the Cowardly Dog Craig of the Creek Cyber Six Daria Darkwing Duck Dragon Booster Dragons: Riders of Berk DuckTales (2017) Exo-Squad Fern Gully Fillmore! Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Futurama Gargoyles Glitch Techs Godzilla: The Animated Series Green Lantern the Animated Series Hedgehog in the Fog (Ёжик в тумане) Hey Arnold Hilda Infinity Train Iron Giant JEM Kim Possible Kipo and the Age of the Wonderbeasts Legend of Zelda animated series (1989) Legion of Super-Heroes Liberty Kids Magical Girl Friendship Squad Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart The Legend of Korra Moominvalley Motorcity My Little Pony (Classic, NOT FiM) My Little Pony: Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks Onyx Equinox Over the Garden Wall Over the Moon (2020 film) Owl House Primal Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure Redwall Rise of the TMNT Roco's Modern Life Rugrats RWBY Samurai Jack Seis Manos She-Ra (1985) She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Sonic Boom Spartakus and the Sun Beneath the Sea Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse Star vs. the Forces of Evil Strange Magic Super Mario Brothers Super Show Superman: The Animated Series Teen Titans The 13 Ghosts of Scooby Doo The Animals of Farthing Wood The Dragon Prince The Hollow The Legend of Tarzan (TV series) The Magic School Bus (1994) The Mysterious Cities of Gold The Pirate Fairy (Disney Fairies) The Powerpuff Girls (1998) The Real Ghostbusters Thundercats (1985) Thundercats (2011) Transformers: Prime Tuca and Bertie Twelve Forever Undone Venture Bros Wakko's Wish Wakfu Wander Over Yonder We Bare Bears (TV) Winx Club Wreck-It Ralph (2012) X-Men Evolution X-Men: The Animated Series Xiaolin Showdown

Live Action

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea 28 Days Later 3rd Rock from the Sun A Series of Unfortunate Events American Horror Story: Asylum Babysitter's Club (2020) Batman (the old Adam West version) Better Call Saul Black Mirror Blackbeard's Ghost (Peter Ustinov) Boston Legal Boy Meets World Boys Over Flowers Bromance (Taiwanese tv series) Brooklyn 99 Buffy the Vampire Slayer Cadfael Cagney and Lacey Charmed (2018) Chopped Cleopatra 2525 Cloak and Dagger Clue (1985) Community Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance Dead Like Me Dead To Me Deadwood Death Note (Netflix) Derry Girls Dimension 20 - The Unsleeping City Doctor Who (New) Doom Patrol Dracula's Daughter (1936) Escape to the Chateau Farscape Fingersmith Galavant Godzilla (2014) Gokushufudo (2020 Japanese TV drama) Golden Girls Good Omens H20: Just Add Water (somewhere in seasons 1-2) Happy New Year Harley Quinn movie Hateblog a REALLY STRAIGHT soap opera. Haunting of Bly Manor His Dark Materials (HBO series) Holes Hot Fuzz House Inception Inside No. 9 Iron Chef America Joan of Arcadia Julie and the Phantoms Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle Kamen Rider Build Kamen Rider Ex-Aid Kamen Rider Fourze Killing Eve Knives Out Letterkenny Leverage Little Women (2019) Lucifer Matlock Majisuka Gakuen MASH Merlin Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol Money Talks (1997 film) Motherland: Fort Salem Murder She Wrote Mythbusters Nailed It! Never Have I Ever Once Upon a Time Orphan Black Pen 15 PGSM Pi (1998) Picnic at Hanging Rock (2018) Pride and Prejudice: A New Musical Puppy Bowl Pushing Daisies Rome (hateblog) Russian Doll Sabrina Sense8 Sera Myu: Un Nouveau Voyage Shameless Sierra Burgess Smallville So Weird Star Trek: TOS (or their films) Star Trek: The Next Generation Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Star Trek: Voyager Stargate Atlantis Suckerpunch Supernatural (out of context speedrun the last three episodes) Sweetheart Switched at Birth Tall Girl Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles The Addams Family (1964) The Big Flower Fight The Booth at the End The Bride With White Hair The Crown The Fresh Prince of Bel Air The Good Place The Kissing Booth The L Word The Librarians The Magicians The Muppet Show The Pregnancy Pact The Room The Steve Harvey Show The Stranded The Untamed The Witcher The Wolfman (1941) Torchwood Twilight Zone (original) Twin Peaks Ultraman Nexus Umbrella Academy Van Helsing Warehouse 13 Warrior Nun What We Do In The Shadows (tv show) Will & Grace Wynonna Earp X-Men 2: X-Men United Xena: Warrior Princess

Miscellaneous

Alpha Flight #41-62 Anime music dance party, the logistics of which are to be determined! Ask Hot Pocket and/or Mina-pup AskSharknado: Giftening Edition Attempt to make French macaroons Commentary on old Goggles Critical Role Crowdsourced: A Black Mirror-style day where Jetty has to ask what her choices are of the audience for everything! I give you a menu, you decide what she has for dinner? What does she wear? Does she walk on the track or do the eliptical? Does she go to a movie with Doc or play a video game with Mike? Can be done alongside other stuff. Doodle Day Dramatic readings of fan fiction! Drunk History (or whatever your favorite subject would be) with Jet Wolf! Drunk Sailor Moon Exorcising Closet Ghost Fic Prompts Day Figuarts Day! (Not specifically freeing anyone, just various fun poses and such) Guess the plot of a show based on its opening Her Shim-Cheong (manhwa) House of X/Powers of X Hubby's Choice IDW Jem comics liveblog Intros Only (watch show openings, give commentary, guess what show is about, etc.) Jackbox Games Jet Wolf paints along with Bob Ross Jet and Doc go to Heaven/Hell, respectively: Jet gets to write reams of words about the awesomeness of Rei Hino and Doc has to read all of them and say ONLY NICE THINGS. Jet does Tiktok dances Jet Liveblogs Holligay: A Nature Documentary Jet Ranks Sailor Moon Image Songs Jet Reads Goosebumps Jet Reads Legion of Super-Heroes Jet redesigns the Wolf and Gay offices! Jet shows off her knitting Jet Wolf attempts to recreate scenes from Sailor Moon with Mina and Hot Pocket and/or whatever is in the house Jet Wolf reacts to Sailor Moon tiktoks (in blog form) Jet Wolf reads Love and Rockets. Jet Wolf reads the Jem comics by IDW Jet Wolf reviews her old top 100 Sailor Moon moments list Jet Wolf talks about Archie Comics Jet Wolf talks about each cel she owns and why they are so awesome. Jet Wolf writes Poetry Jet Wolf's Top 5's Jet, Hubby and/or family play board games Jetty Rants and Raves Jet Wolf tries to crack the Gravity Falls Codes Kiwi Blitz on Hiveworks Let's Play on Webtoon Liveblog: Favorite X-Men comic book arcs Livestream Pathfinder one-shot LOONA (Collection of music videos with an ongoing story/universe about GIRLS who are FRIENDS and SAVE THE UNIVERSE) Lore Olympus on Webtoon Mike regales us with "the story of your love" while you get increasingly embarrassed Mina and Hot Pocket day - liveblog like a nature documentary Mister Tsukino Does His Taxes and the Household Budget (Sailor Moon fan comic by Shadowjack) Nancy Drew: Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake Not So Shoujo Love Story on Webtoon Pitch Mishaps for Untitled Senshi Game (it is a lovely day in Juuban, and you are a Horrible Minako.) Pitching hubby's favorite media at (readers/holligay/jill/momigay) Playing with dolls (because how could 3 women not have any dolls between them) Re-Take By Studio Kimigabuchi (All Ages Version) Real or Fake Anime (people submit descriptions of anime you guess if it is an anime that actually exists or not) Reviewing succulents Scavenger hunt! Not entirely sure how it would work, maybe folks could send in asks for you to show things like your favorite Rei Hino object, or the thing that's been with you the longest, etc. sewing/knitting/baking tutorial Share or rant about a Roman history topic Sleepless Domain on Hiveworks Talking to Docholligay 2: Doc Harder (basically you talking to Doc's future womb evictee while still in there and telling them stuff like say the greatness of Rei Hino) The Monster Duchess and Contract Princess (manhwa) The Polar Bear Plunge--I take Jetty to our finest Lake Elmo in January, and she jumps in! Note: THIS IS NOT DANGEROUS, WORRYWARTS. I'll bring a life preserver, I've done it before, and I would do it with her if I weren't pregnant. The Senshi Helpline--The Senshi, taking your advice questions, here and now! The World of Moral Reversal Virtual knitting/crafting circle! Let us craft and chat with you! What-If #24 Gwen Stacy Lived Worm the web serial Write an explanation for a drawing we send you! Yuri Hell's Kitchen

#THE GIFTENING 2020 #THE GIFTENING 2020 admin stuff

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