#my little stupid termite

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Sugar Crash Void Bash: The Fanfic!

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3

CWs: Anxiety, snake mention

Chapter Four: Strawberry Shortquake

chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8

“Hngh!” Tippy hoists a large, sparkly blue suitcase onto the bed, “Alright, that’s the last of it.”

“Sweetie, you’ve said that three times now.” Vanilla rubs his husband’s royal blue hair.

“I know, Vans, but this time I mean it.” Ze chuckles. Ice looks around, then puts his hands on his hips,

“Did you pack any shoes, Termite?”

Tippy’s eyes widen and ze quickly unzips the suitcase. Ice lightly covers his mouth with a small chuckle as he watches his husband. Ramón walks into the bedroom’s open door, looking a little nervous. Ice turns to his son, while his husband picks out some shoes to bring,

“Hey, Foofs. Are you all packed up?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, papa.” The teen nods then clasps his hands together, “So. We’re going on some kind of vacation or business trip or…?” 

Ice frowns his brows, looking a little nervous. He gives a polite smile to his son, while his husband tries in vain to press zeir suitcase closed,

“Oh, we’re simply visiting my home country to…” Vanilla looks to his upper right, “expose you to a part of my culture which– that y-you have never seen before. You- this is for your enrichment and education.” Ramón nods slowly then looks away nonchalantly. What is the point in lying to me about what’s really going on? I’m not stupid, papa… 

After the plane trip

Ramón and his fathers leave the plane. The teenager looks outside the airport’s window with confusion, something he has also been feeling as he looked out of the plane’s window.

“Is something the matter, child?” Ice asks his son.

“Yeah uh… I always thought Egypt was just, like, nothing but sand. There's also... grass?” Ramón asks. Tippy immediately starts laughing. Vanilla sighs with an exhausted look, not only from the fact that his son has obviously not been paying attention in class, but because he knows a barrage of puns or plays on words are coming from his husband.

“Well, I guess you better get your grass to the table tonight, because we're gonna have sandwiches for dinner!” Tippy snickers.

“Oh boy...” Ice speaks with an exasperated expression. Tippy giggles and looks up at Vanilla. Ice gives his husband a scolding look. Tippy cackles loudly, making some people turn to look at what’s happening. 

“J-just-” Tippy holds onto Vanilla’s arm while Ramón cracks a smile, biting his lip trying not to laugh. The blue haired man continues, “J-just make sure you don’t wake up Vanilla’s mummy!”

“I don’t have a– ugh. Be quiet, Termite. Not another word from you until we get to the manor.” Ice shakes his head, a little annoyed, but also curious about what other puns his husband has to offer.

“What? Oh that’s not… Fair-oh.” Tippy’s hyena laughs are contagious, causing Ramón to giggle along with him, “G-get it? Pharaoh? Because–” He keeps laughing, “No? Well, I have more puns to keep you sarcopha-guessing!” 

“Tippy.” Vanilla turns sharply to his husband, stifling a chuckle and cracking a smile against his will, “Enough. *chuckle* That is inappropriate.” 

“Sorry, sorry. You know how I get when I’m nervous, baby.” Tippy pats Vanilla on the back. He mumbles, “N’Doul would make even worse puns.”

Ramón chuckles and looks around at the airport. It has been years since the teen had been out of the country. 

“Ice?” A familiar voice speaks, making Vanilla’s head turn in an instant.

“Oh, Terence.” Vanilla replies, “It’s been years.” He touches the small of his partner’s back, “Tippy, you remember Terence, hm? Oh, and this is my son. Ramón.”

Ramón shyly but coolly waves to Terence.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ramón. Wow… You look just like your papa. The resemblance is almost uncanny.” Terence nods at Ramón and glances over at Ice. Ramón smiles then looks away, very perplexed as to why he said that… Terence then turns his attention back to Ice, “Lord Dio has given me specific orders to bring you three back to the mansion. So follow me, you all.”

In the car

Ramón looks out the window of the car. He hears his fathers speak to Terence but doesn’t pay attention to what words they are saying exactly. Instead, he is more focused on the new country he is in. Soon enough, they arrive at the mansion. Terence parks the car and steps out. Vanilla opens the door for his son and smiles at him,

“Well, Foofy, we’re here. What do you think?”

“Whoa!” Ramón looks at the outside of the mansion. Tippy skips around in the little yard and up to the front door. Ice gently pushes Ramón’s back up to the stairs leading up to the door of the mansion. The family and Terence enter the mansion. It’s bitter cold and dark inside, save for a few electric lamps and candles scattered around. Tippy scoffs and leans toward Ramón,

“Tch, wow, and it looks like your ‘tío Dio’ still doesn’t believe in dusting.” 

Terence glances over to him,

“Yeah, well– yeah.” He brings the family up to Dio’s boudoir. Ramón can’t help but feel a bit uneasy when they reach their destination. 

“Ah… there you are.” The golden locked, ivory fleshed man speaks as the door opens. A toothy, fang filled grin spreads across his ancient yet youthful face. He trots over to Ice, planting gentle kisses on either of his cheeks. He leans down and kisses the back of Tippy’s hand, with a grin. Suddenly, his amber eyes land on the bubblegum haired adolescent before him,

“And this… this is the fabled Ramón.” The pasty white man stretches out his hand, tipped with inky black claws, to the young boy. Ramón looks to his papa for reassurance. Ice nods at his son. Ramón hesitantly shakes Dio’s hand, feeling the cold, clammy, corpse-like flesh on his own. 

“Well, well, well…” Dio speaks, his voice low and sultry, soothing to the ears yet something is eerily off about it… very inhuman, quite divine yet unholy. Everything about this man is a walking contradiction it seems, “How are you enjoying your vacation thus far? Hm?”

“O-oh, uh…” Ramón looks to his parents then back at Dio. He gulps then sheepishly replies, “It’s pretty cool, heh!” Dio nods his head, turning to Ice and Tippy,

“It’s uncanny how much he is like the two of you… both in appearance and demeanor. Even as an infant, it was just mystifying, the resemblance.” This makes Ramón confused yet again. This is the second time he has been physically compared to his adopted fathers. E-even as an infant?! What?! Ramón’s heart rate skyrockets.

Dio inhales and speaks again, “At any rate, I suppose it’s time I introduce you to your rooms, hm?”

That’s when an equally as large and buff older man, albeit just a bit chubbier, with blue hair and beard stubble, walks by the room, reading a book.

“Or better yet,” Dio snaps his fingers, “Jojo.”

“What is it–? Oh! Guests!” He closes the book shut, “How quaint, I–” He pauses, “Oh my stars… it can’t be! Mr Ice? Gratuity?”

“Jonny!” Tippy runs over to him and gives him a hug. Jonathan wraps his arms around the petite man, giving a hearty chuckle, “Man, I am never gonna get used to you being so tall… or having arms! And legs! And… everything below the neck! Haha, and you have a beard now!” Ze takes Jonathan’s arm and pulls him to zeir family, “Look, look. Vans and I got married and had an itty bitty!” Ze points to Ice and Ramón. Jonathan clasps his hands together,

“Oh, how precious! What a darling little family you have here, dear friend.” Jonathan shakes Ramón’s hand with a polite smile, “What an honor to meet the child of Mr Ice and Gratuity.”

“Jojo, show them to their rooms. The happy couple will stay in Ice’s old room, Ramón will stay in Gratuity’s old room.” Dio dismisses the four.

On the way to the rooms

“Wait, wait, hold on a second,” Ramón speaks, “So let me get this straight; you were a severed head in a jar. My papa and daddo used to take care of you, and Mr Dio is a vampire?!”

“That is correct, dear boy.” Jonathan confirms.

“...What is going on here exactly?!” Ramón shakes his head in confusion. The three adult men all exchange looks with each other, turn to Ramón and speak in unison,

“We don’t know.”

“H-huh–?!” Ramón gives them all an incredulous look. Jonathan raises his hands up and speaks cheerfully,

“Oh, it certainly is spectacular to have you two in the manor once again!” He shows them around, “It has been a while, yes indeed. As you may notice, we have made some adjustments to our living quarters.” 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed there’s different people working here too,” Tippy begins, “Terence and N’Doul are still here though.” Jonathan nods and points to some new decorations, 

“Of course. Oh, look at these, so delightful. Mr Ice?”

“Yes, Mr Jojo?” Vanilla responds. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but we spruced up your old room a bit.” Jonathan opens the door to Vanilla’s old room. It’s clean and pretty fancy as opposed to how dark and gloomy it used to look, “Dear brother didn’t tell me that you all were arriving, so pardon the dust.”

“No, no, it’s alright, Jonathan.” Ice looks around, memories of his time in the mansion flooding back to him. Nostalgia and dismay of the recollections fill his heart. Tippy immediately jumps face first on the bed while Ice looks around and touches his old sliding closet doors. Ramón points to the right side of the room,

“What’s in there?” 

“Oh, that’s the bathroom, Foofy. Your papa had his own bathroom too.” Ice turns to look at the bathroom door across the room, remembering the first time he and Tippy had showered together. A small smile creeps upon his lips as he looks back on that memory fondly. 

“So… you were basically Mr Dio’s…?” Ramón asks slowly, his voice trails off at the end of his sentence.

“Servant.” Ice glances back at his son, “Yes, I… I was Lord D– ahem, Mr Dio’s servant for a time.”

“Lord Dio?” Ramón tilts his head, much like Tippy does when he’s confused. Ice feels his cheeks grow hot and he nibbles the inside of his cheek,

“Yes, because he is the ‘lord’ of this mansion, my child. You know how there are lords and ladies? Well, he is a ‘lord’.” 

Tippy pipes up,

“Oooh, I thought it was because you practically worshipped the guy–” 

“Tippy.” Ice grits his teeth and scolds his husband softly. The blue haired gentleman looks back and forth between Ramón and Vanilla, 

“I-I’m just kidding! I was just joking, Ramón!”

It’s a little bit of an awkward silence. Jonathan rubs his neck and turns away,

“It’s such a pleasure to have you back, old friend. Alright, dear boy,” He turns his attention to Ramón, “Come with me and I shall show you where you will be staying.”

The two of them leave the room.

Ice sighs and sits on the bed, hanging his head and looking ashamed. Tippy gently touches zeir husband’s shoulder. The brunette looks over at zem with a dejected expression,

“Please don’t tell him…” he looks down at his hands, “about who I used to be. I don’t– *sigh* I don’t want him to think of me in such a bad light.”

“I’m sorry, Vans. I wasn’t thinking.” Tippy rubs Ice’s shoulder.

“It’s alright.” He touches zeir hand, “I was at my lowest point. I did things I’m not proud of. I let L– Dio, goddamn it, humiliate me… sometimes in front of guests. I-I was so blinded by what I thought was love to even think for myself.” 

Vanilla looks up at the top of the door frame for a while, then back down at his hands,

“I worshipped him like a god because he saved my life… you know what I did. He treated me so kindly, with a tenderness I have never felt in my life…” he turns to his husband with a warm smile, “That is… until I fell in love with you.”

“Awww, Vanilla. You soft serve.” Tippy gives Vanilla a little peck on the lips. The brunette holds both of Tippy’s hands gently,

“Then you showed me what real love is like. What it actually feels like to have somebody care about me…” He delicately caresses the cheek of his lover, “I couldn’t ask for a happier ending to this fairytale.”

Tippy chuckles and happily hums against the touch of Vanilla’s knuckles. Ze lightly touches Ice’s left bang, admiring the grey and white streaks mixed with the original brown hair,

“I’ll love you forever and ever… you’ve become such a handsome older man, you know? I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you.”

Ice chuckles, a pleased smile plastered across his face. Those beautiful smile lines on his face, indicating how many years he has spent smiling and laughing rather than frowning and sulking, crease on the corners of his mouth. The delicate little crow's feet on the corners of his honey sunset brown eyes scrunch up with joy. He presses his lips, lightly glossed with his favorite vanilla scented lip oil, right in the middle of his husband’s forehead. 

Meanwhile

“Alright, lad.” Jonathan opens the door to a bedroom, “This one used to be your father’s room! Er, your other father’s room. The one with the blue hair that is.” Ramón enters the guest room and looks around. It’s a little smaller than his papa’s old room. The bed is up against the wall, as opposed to being in the center like in the other bedroom. Ramón sets his luggage down and turns to Jonathan,

“Thank you, Mr Jonathan.”

“Oh, it’s never a problem, dear boy!” Jonathan gives him a warm smile, about to close the door, but he remembers something, “Ah, and feel free to raid the fridge. Just don’t disturb my wife!”

“W-what?!” Ramón recoils in shock.

“Ahahahohoho! I jest, my boy, I jest!” Jonathan chuckles, “Have a pleasant stay, and a good night.” He closes the door gently. Ramón sits on his bed, relaxing a bit. He touches the blanket a little…

“Something tells me he wasn’t joking.”

It’s a restless night, filled with tossing and turning. Chills crawl down Ramón’s back, yet beads of sweat pool across his face. The teen trembles with fear of an unknown threat, clutching his chest with shaking breath as he stares up at the ceiling. Behind his eyes, a cryptic dream of snakes coiling around his limbs plays, all with eyes of crystal, until they make their way to his throat, strangling the life out of him until his eyes go grey. The young boy lays on his side, clinging to his pillow for any semblance of comfort. 

After what seems like an eternity,

Tuk tuk tuk

Ramón jolts up and gasps sharply.

Tuk tuk tuk

“Foofy?” his papa’s voice speaks through the door. Ramón hesitantly climbs out of bed. His hand trembles as he reaches for the doorknob.

Krrrrrrrr

The door opens with a creak. Ice looks down at his son with a sweet, adoring smile. Ramón internally breathes a sigh of relief,

“G-good morning, papa. What’s up?”

“Hmhm, we need you to go ahead and get dressed for the day.” Ice softly rubs his son’s curly pink hair, “Mr Dio wants us all to meet in the dining hall for breakfast. He has some important news to tell us.”

“Oh, y-yeah! Sure. I’ll be right there.” Ramón rubs his neck. Vanilla leans down, about to plant a kiss on his son’s forehead, but he catches himself. Instead, he gives Ramón a polite smile and nods,

“Of course, dear. I love you.”

Ramón gives a nod and a smile right back before closing the door and getting ready. 

In the dining hall

Dio is sitting down at the end of the table, daintily sipping on a mimosa. Vanilla and Tippy are sitting next to each other, touching hands and chuckling between themselves. Jonathan is finishing up setting the table with many different breakfast food options. 

Ramón shyly and hesitantly walks into the large room through the open archway. Dio chuckles,

“Ohohoho, there he is.”

Ramón makes an awkward smile and lazily waves at those at the table. Ice gestures for his son to sit nearby. The pink haired boy obeys and sits next to his fathers. Dio takes a sip of his mimosa and hums a bit,

“Mmm… try some of those pancakes, lad. Add a little bit of powdered sugar, berries, and maple syrup on top,” he does a chef’s kiss, “divine.” 

Ramón nods and helps himself to some breakfast along with his fathers. Everyone begins to feast for a while. Dio clears his throat and turns to Vanilla,

“Ice.”

“Yes, sire?” Ice instinctively asks. Ramón tilts his head,

“Sire?” 

Dio chuckles and takes another sip of his drink as Vanilla’s cheeks heat up. Dio speaks before Ice can say anything,

“Something important I have been meaning to tell you,” He stands up and approaches the brunette. He drags his hand along Ice’s shoulders, stopping at his right shoulder. The blonde leans down and speaks into his ear softly,

“There is… somebody I’d like you to meet…” the vampire pats his shoulder and walks away. As he’s halfway to the archway, he glances behind him at the others,

“I’d like the rest of you to meet him as well. I’m certain he will make an important ally.”

When Dio says that, Vanilla gets tense. He was under the impression that this all was supposed to be a secret from Ramón. It looks like all of that just went out the window now.

Important ally? Okay, this just got weirder. What is going on?! Ramón thinks to himself.

To be continued…

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Don't You Forget About Me

Part One

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Description: Sometimes the most unlikely encounters with people have an immeasurable effect on your life. For Bradley Bradshaw, life at 22 right after graduating from college is far different than he ever thought it would be. It kind of seems like his whole life hasn't gone according to plan. No parents, no support system, just one man and his dad's old Bronco against the world. A chance meeting with a blond-haired teenage menace in Texas may just change everything, shaping his future in a way he never would have expected. Disclaimer: This is a Hangster story -> What you see is what you get, folks. Slight mention of homophobic/ lgbtq+ phobic family members. Word Count: 3624 Author's Note: Hiya! I wrote this fic for @roosterforme's Top Gun Rocktober Event based on the song Don't You Forget About Me by the Simple Minds. Everything about it just screamed Hangster when I listened to it again. As anybody who knows me or has read my works can surmise... I can be quite long-winded so what was supposed to be a quick blurb turned into a short two-part series. I hope you all love this fic! (Also I'm self conscious about this one because I do not write in first person. It's surprisingly hard so I'd love any feedback if you've got it!)

It's dark and smoky and loud in here and I can't believe that I let Jessica and David drag me to this party. They've long since disappeared into the crush and left me on the under-stuffed chintz armchair in some frat house’s living room. It doesn't help that I haven't been to Texas in years and I feel even more like I’m out of my depths because of it. My mom grew up here, and most of her family is still here. But she's not. In the years since I graduated from high school, I've turned hundreds of times, looking for her sweet smile, searching for her to take solace in. But she's not exactly on this mortal plane anymore. Neither of my parents are. And the closest thing I've ever had to a dad fucked off after destroying my dreams.

It fills me with an unreasonable rage every time I think about it. I know Virginia, I've lived in Virginia for years, putting myself through school in Charlottesville while working single-mindedly to get into the US Navy. I’m so close to flight school that I can taste it. I just need to get through Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island now that I’ve graduated. One final summer of building my savings by working odd jobs and I’d be free. Or so I thought.

Then, I received a notice telling me my apartment building needed to be tented for termites. My lease was only valid until I left for OCS, anyway. I debated living out of my dad's car, now mine, until I had to be in Rhode Island. That’s when I received a letter from Stephanie Williams, my mom’s cousin, inviting me to spend the summer in Texas. Driving to Texas is far from convenient, but I haven't spent any time around my family, no matter how distant they may be, in so long. And, I’m kind of homesick - homesick for the sense of camaraderie, of walking into the house after baseball practice or school and hearing anyone in the house besides myself.

Jessica and David, Stephanie’s kids, are as nice as their mom. They both attend the University of Texas, but it still feels like there is a distance between us. They can't understand the drive burning in me about the Navy, how I need to do well at OCS, how I need to become an aviator, how I need to be better than anyone else. Aunt Steph doesn't really get it either if the way she practically pushed me out the door when Jess and David mentioned the party is any indication.

It doesn't help that I'm only a week from reporting to OCS, either. I know it’s not flight school, not yet, but I know I need to study more than I need to be in this stupid little ramshackle frat house on Greek Row. The beer’s watered down and warm, tasting like piss in my mouth. Normally, I’d be right in the center of the makeshift dance floor grinding up against the scantily clad girls in sight, most of them wearing bikinis, but not tonight. 

I just want to go home again, but that’s not possible. It hasn't been for years. I leave the mostly full beer behind and search for Jess and David. There are hundreds of drunk kids in the house, and it doesn’t matter at all that I’m taller than most of them, not when people are dancing on the tables and licking alcohol off of each other. I feel like I’m suffocating. The entire house stinks of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and sweat. It takes fifteen minutes to look for either of them in the basement. When I’m halfway up the stairs, I’m tempted to leave them here and drive by in the morning to get them. But Aunt Steph would hate that.

The first floor is even worse than the basement. There may not be anybody dancing on the tables, but there is far more clothing being thrown about. It looks like there’s a drunken orgy happening in the living room on the floor. The carpet isn’t all that clean, to begin with, and add bodily fluids to it, and I nearly hurl on the spot. 

If this is what I’ve missed out on in the traditional college experience, well, I don’t want it, not at all. Thankfully, I don’t have to see either of my cousins naked and that eliminates the kitchen and living area entirely. All I have left are the bedrooms above. Just walking up the stairs, I can hear the creaking of bedsprings and lusty moans. It sounds like a contagious disease waiting to happen, and I don’t make it past the top step.

That’s it. I can’t search for Jess or David anymore and I fight my way to the front door while trying to ignore the tits that seem to get shoved into my face every few steps. As I open the door, a body slams right into me. It’s a kid, gangly and blond, knobby shoulders protruding sharply through the fabric of the worn t-shirt he’s wearing.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” I can’t help the chuckle pouring out of my mouth. I’ve got at least 8 inches in height on him and I could easily break him into two if I wanted to. He must be ninety pounds soaking wet and his indignation is about as intimidating as an angry chihuahua. But I’m not looking for a fight, so I just move out of the way. Something about his angry green eyes and how they glow in the fresh night air is oddly captivating. I’m honestly not expecting to see him again, but just as I reach the Bronco and open the door, I see the same person get bodily chucked out of the house.

He’s shouting expletives into the night air, and when his anger runs out, he hunches his shoulders and stomps in my direction. Of course, a snarl rips out of his mouth the moment he sees me.

“What, asshole? Haven’t you seen someone get kicked out of a party by a bunch of dicks before?” 

“I have, kid. But I wanted to know if you were okay. Your knuckles look rough.” It’s true. His knuckles are bloody and bruised like he’s been punching something hard with no control. Those are going to sting like a bitch in the morning.

He snorts and must see something unassuming in my face because he uncrosses his arms and says, “I’m not a kid, I'm seventeen.” He’s a little young to be running around the UT campus and getting thrown out of parties, but I have the feeling if I say anything, he’ll probably just jump down my throat again. “I’m Jake.”

“Bradley.” I grin back. “Get in.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t get into cars with strangers.” He’s quick-witted, that’s for sure.

“No.” If my eyes roll as I look at Jake, that’s just between him and me. He must feel like shit if he hasn’t called me out for it yet. “I have a first aid kit in the glove box. I wanted to look at your knuckles before they scab over.” Jake looks shocked. I can almost see the gears grinding in his head as he thinks my words over.

“Move over.” I have to hide my grin until he’s safely in the passenger seat. I don’t know why it feels like such a victory, having this stranger accept my help. I leave the door open and lean in. He smells coffee and spice with an undertone of musk, sitting in my passenger seat with his eyes looking far too green in the low light.

“You don’t go to UT, do you?” Instead of responding, I just pop open the glove compartment and tug out the med kit.

“So what is this, Bradley?” He sounds disgruntled. “No answers without you taking care of my hands?”

I just hold my hand out until he puts his into mine. It’s a long-fingered hand, thin and bony. No well-fed eighteen-year-old boy has hands that look like this. Hands that look like they’ve been working every day of their life. I want to know why Jake’s got such a big chip on his shoulder and why someone so young has hands that look so worn.

“I’m really alright, you know?” I’m as gentle as I can be, patting at scraped knuckles with an isopropyl alcohol soaked cotton ball. Jake may talk a big game, but he’s wincing with each word. 

“Who’d you punch to fuck up your knuckles so badly?” 

“My asshole ex-boyfriend. He was cheating on me with one of his teammates. And I just found out today.” Jake’s voice chokes on a sob, and I can’t help the twinge of sympathy that goes through me at his words. Maybe I’m too quiet, because there’s a sharp tug on my sleeve.

“D’you have a problem with that?” Jake’s glaring at me, and it takes me longer than it usually would for me to figure out why.

“About the fact that you had a boyfriend?” He nods, the movement jerky and sharp. “Why would I care about that? You love who you love, that’s it.”

He looks blown away by my immediate acceptance of who he is. But Jake seems uncomfortable at the same time, uncomfortable enough that he changes the subject. “You never answered me earlier. You don’t go to school at UT.”

“No, I don’t.” I collect the trash into a small ball and put the kit away again. It feels weird to stand out in the night and talk when I have a perfectly good driver’s seat right on the other side of the car. I can already see a hundred questions on the tip of Jake’s tongue, so I hold one hand up and point to the trash bin nearby. I can feel every bit of his gaze on my back as I lope to the can and back, opting this time to get into the driver’s seat. Of course, no sooner am I buckled in, Jake’s looking right at me.

“Why are you here, then? Why were you at that party tonight?” I can hear the naked curiosity in his tone.

“I’m staying with some of my mom’s family over the summer. A couple of my relatives go to UT for school and invited me to the party. I just graduated from college and I’m joining the Navy in a week.” It sounds so real as I say the words. They sound equally real, it looks like, to Jake.

“Why the Navy?" I haven't felt like I'm the focus of another person in a long time. I feel flayed open, horribly, uncomfortably, seen.

My voice is quiet, a little rough, a little raw as I say, "My dad was in the Navy."

"What did he do?" I blink a little, not expecting this question so soon. Normally people want to know why my dad was in the Navy, in the past tense. They want to know what happened to him. They never want to know what he did or anything else about him.

"He was a Naval Aviator, a Radar Intercept Officer, to be specific." It makes me smile, like always, remembering my dad.

"What does a Radar Intercept Whatsit do?" Jake's nearly open-mouthed in the passenger seat, body turned my way in a jumble of limbs that looks nearly too cramped to be comfortable, beat up sneakers on the floor and wholly fascinated by every word pouring out of my mouth. That's unique too. I've never felt this rush, this instant connection before with anybody. 

"A Radar Intercept Officer," I repeat, earning myself an eye roll, "is the person sitting behind the pilot. They're responsible for enabling communications with ships and other jets, navigating and monitoring the radar. Pilots fly the plane, but RIOs do everything else." 

"Sounds boring." I have to chuckle at that, because when he's not angrily grumbling, Jake's actually handsome. And that's not a realization I ever wanted to have about a seventeen-year-old I just met. Forget the place, there's the matter of how this is all the wrong time, too. I can't afford any distractions, not even cute little twinks with more attitude than sense. I'm joining the military for fuck's sake. Don't Ask, Don't Tell is still very strongly enforced and Jake seems like the type to bulldoze his way on base one day just for the hell of it. Better stick to talking about flying, that's all. And that’s if we manage to stay in touch until he’s actually legal, too.

"Do you want to become a RIO too?" His voice is hesitant as he sounds out the acronym.

"Nah, I've always wanted to become a pilot. Actually fly the planes, y'know?" I swear I can see literal fighter jets flying around Jake's head, he's so enraptured by the idea.

"Is it hard?" 

I have to shrug at that, because maybe I just have flying in my blood. "Not any harder than learning how to drive or ride a bike - at least that's what it was like for me."

I can see Jake think of a few hundred more questions, but stop him with one of my own. "What’s a seventeen year old doing at a UT frat party?" 

 His nose crinkles, "Who said I’m not a student at UT?"

"Nobody. But something about you tells me that you aren’t a UT Student, even though seventeen-year-olds join universities as freshmen all the time." I’m almost afraid to see that look on his face. But instead, Jake seems to be feeling the same awe that I was earlier - horribly, uncomfortably, seen.

“Nah. I work at one of the coffee shops on campus.” No wonder he smells like cinnamon and coffee.

"But you don't want to, do you?"

His nod is sheepishly affirmative. "My uncle says I should get out of the house and do something with myself over the summer. If he had his way, when I graduate in a year I’ll be doing the same thing. But I want to do something exciting, not farm work or work in a factory or hell, even be a barista anymore. I think the Navy might be just the thing."

I have to grin at his enthusiasm. But a part of me can’t help wondering if the reason why Jake is so interested in escaping Austin is because of something else. But I’m not quite sure how to broach the topic. It’s silent and still in the car for a little bit. Jake looks like he’s thinking of what to say, and I’m struck by the halo the streetlight we’re under makes around his hair. He’s pretty, indescribably so, even with a purplish bruise rising on his cheekbone. His long lashes shine golden against the freckles dotting his cheekbones. I reach for the polaroid I always keep in the car and snap a couple of quick pictures. I hand one to Jake, but just as he’s about to ask me why I did that, I see red and blue lights in the rear view mirror and hear sirens blaring our way.

“Shit! C’mon, Bradley! Drive the car!” It takes me a few seconds to process what he’s saying but when I do, I put the car in drive and drive sedately down the street. 

“What the fuck, Brad!” I haven’t heard anyone call me Brad in years. That’s what my mom called me, what Mav did too. “Drive a little bit faster, why don’t you?! You keep driving like a fucking turtle and the cops will catch us in no time flat!”

“I’m driving at the speed limit.” I chuckle at the way Jake grumbles under his breath. “The police won’t pull us over if we’re doing everything right. You probably don’t want them calling your folks to tell them you were at a party, underage where alcohol was being served and an orgy was happening on the living room floor, now do you?”

We’re thankfully able to leave the scene without any trouble, and I let Jake direct me through the late night Austin streets. It’s quiet, and in the half-light I can’t help noticing how incredibly small and delicate Jake is at this moment. He has me pull over a few blocks away.

“Do you make a habit of running from the cops?” He laughs at that, a genuine belly aching infectious cackle bursting out of his mouth.

“No, I don’t.” Something dark glows over his eyes just as easily as the laugh. “My uncle wouldn’t have been happy at all if he had gotten that call.”

I really don’t know what to say to that, so I just wait.

“My mom always says that she doesn’t know who my dad was, and well, I don’t know if you know much about conservative Texans, but that was a no-go for most of my family. She’s out of state, working in a library in North Carolina, I think? And I’m with my aunt and uncle until I turn 18.”   

“I’m sure the minute that happens, I’m going to get kicked out. They didn’t approve of me just because I was born out of wedlock. They hated me even more when they found out I wasn’t exactly only into girls. My mom doesn’t know how bad it is for me here. And I’m not going to tell her either. I just don't know what to do.” He sniffles, sitting in the passenger seat, cheeks pinking in the glow of the streetlights. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you this either. But it feels like the universe wanted us to meet tonight. It feels like I can trust you.”

I’m struck dumb by those words and the butterflies swarming in my stomach. I’m flattered by his trust. It has me spilling all of my biggest secrets. I tell him more about my dad, about mom, about Mav. I tell him about my biggest victories and darkest regrets. We talk for hours, taking turns baring our souls until the sky turns gray at the edges. It's the small hours of the morning, that small section of the twilight zone where everything feels extra still. My throat is scratchy and my eyes are dry. Jake’s not much better.

The sleepy drawl in his voice makes shivers trail up and down my spine and it’s still so foreign feeling like this for someone I’ve just met. It’s a little terrifying, too. Far too soon, we’re pulling up in front of the party house. 

"I should get going." A part of me wants to stop him, offer to give him a ride, anything to stay in his presence just a bit longer. But the more rational part, the one chanting US Navy and Top Gun is screaming just as vehemently no.

"Do you need a ride?" My voice is nearly too loud for this time of night.

"Nah, Bradley. I live right around the corner." Jake gives me a two-fingered salute and begins to walk away, his shoulders bowed and looking incredibly small. It's a surprise when he stops, turns back around and jogs back to the car. He flings the door open, and I'm surprised to see the two spots of pink high up on his cheeks.

"Can we stay in touch? I'd love to pick your brain about the Navy, sometime?"

I'm nodding before my common sense can speak, ignoring the insidious little voice that says, "No you won't ever see him again. You're joining the Navy."

I hand Jake a pen and a scrap of paper I found in my pockets. What I get back is his first name and a phone number. "This is my landline. See you around, Bradley?"

My reply is too quiet as I roll the syllables of his name over my tongue. By the time Jessica and David have staggered their way out to the car, I'm sure Jake was just a figment of my imagination. Two weeks later, when it's my first turn with the phones on base, I call that number. I get a message telling me that the phone number I'm calling has been disconnected. I never get rid of that note though. It's almost like something's screaming at me to remember Jake. Maybe one day I'll find him again. And who knows? Maybe he's a lot closer than I think he is.

Nine Years Later

It’s been a long road getting to Top Gun. Walking through the halls it feels like everything I’ve worked and struggled for has finally paid off. I’m a pilot, I’m talented, if I do say so myself, and there is nothing I want to do more than finally put the Bradshaw name on that trophy. Walking into the classroom that first morning, I feel like this is the start of something great. Until the first hop later that week. There’s a blond in class with an ego that cashes checks for money he doesn’t have. But he has the skill to back up his words.

“Rooster, Rooster, Rooster. Are you ever going to get off your perch?” Hangman. Even his callsign fills me with rage. I’ve never met a more annoying person in my life. But there is something about him which seems familiar. Why does Hangman of all people seem so familiar? It’s a puzzle I can’t devote any time to solving. Not when I have to knock a blond idiot down a few pegs. I wonder what the Jake I met all those years ago would think about Hangman. I hope he’s doing well, wherever he is.

Taglist:

@chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @cassiemitchell @dakotakazansky @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl

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

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 21: Body Horror

Spirit Possession

2432 Words; Coleverlord, pre-canon

TW for injury, emotional abuse

AO3 ver

Cole drifted.

Dance school had been… Cole still enjoyed dancing, despite the growing distance between him and his father. He did enjoy dancing, he really did—

(“Didn’t you see the way he was staring? He’s totally a creep.” Whispers from other students, having to find his own table at lunch;

“Young man, you need to work harder if you want to keep your scholarship.” The only class he had anything less than an A in was his B in history; the scholarship wasn’t that strict.

“You’re dragging our quartet down.”

“Ugh, why does he have to be here?”

“Professor, I can’t work with my partner. Can I switch?”

“Sorry, all the roles have been filled. Now run along, you’re interrupting rehearsal.”

“Freak.”

“Creep.”

“There’s something wrong with him.”)

It was everything else about school that Cole couldn’t stand. Not that it was anything new; he knew the effect he had on other people, but—

Go west, Vessel.

Yeah. That. So Cole left Marty Oppenheimer’s, threw away the scholarship and left. Nobody had stopped him, either. He considered going home, to the garden he couldn’t stand and the bedroom where the shadows shushed all his worries and the studio he could dance in as much as he wanted when his father wasn’t home—

But the way his father had shipped him out to Marty Oppenheimer’s was clue enough. Cole wasn’t stupid, he knew that the spiders crawling under his skull made other people uneasy. He knew he and his father had grown distant because of that—and because of his mother’s death, which had only upset his father further. Cole hadn’t been stupid enough to believe people would treat him like anything other than a monster since he was nine and sitting in his bedroom, hair still damp from the pond—

So Cole drifted. It said to go west, and Cole was vaguely meandering in that direction, which It hadn’t complained about so the slow pace was probably fine. He passed through some towns on the way, met a few people—

(Always leave by the next sunrise, that was the rule. Linger any longer, and the ants marching under his skin would start to give people fits. Best to keep moving.)

—but he didn’t really settle. Not that he could; It would yell at him to get moving again. So Cole kept moving, kept going even when it got hard—he’d been doing that since he was little, he supposed. He kept going when his mother stopped seeing him as her son, kept going when his friends all drifted away, when his father drifted away. Left Marty Oppenheimer’s at Its urging, and just kept going

and going

and going.

Can’t be a good son, can’t be a dancer. Is there anything I can be?

You are my Vessel, and that is all you will need to be.

Cole snorted, bringing the hammer down to strike the nail. The sun was high in the sky, and the fence before him needed to be fixed. He liked working with his hands; there was something so satisfying about the physical labor. It helped that he was often rewarded with food. So Cole worked, taking off the old pickets and hammering in the new.

The hours passed, and before long Cole was being called away from the completed fence for dinner. He took his meal out to the front step, away from awkward table conversations and away from people he had yet to unnerve. He ate in silence, termites crawling along under his skin and shadows dancing at his feet.

“You can come eat with the rest of us, you know.” Cole turned back to look at the girl at the door—her name was Rose, he was pretty sure, and she was the daughter of the couple that lived here. “My folks don’t bite.” There was hospitality in her voice, invitation in the way she looked at him.

“I’m fine. Sunset’s nice.” Cole deflected. “Thank you for the meal.” He added.

Rose stared at him. The termites under his skin started biting at his bones, shadows creeping towards the door. Rose frowned, grip on the doorframe tightening before she retreated back into the house without a word.

Cole turned back to his meal. All the isopods in his brain all curled up, and his shoulders hunched slightly. He set his plate down where they could find it.

He was gone by the time it was dark.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole drifted.

Mountain towns were interesting. His hometown wasn’t really near any big mountains, though he’d seen them on the occasional school field trip or family outing. His mother had loved the mountains; she and his father used to jokingly argue about moving to her hometown out in the mountains. They couldn’t have those arguments anymore, though, and Cole was no longer around to hear them anyway.

Cole was staring up at a particularly large mountain, now, the peak so high it touched the clouds. His mother used to tell him so many stories about mountains…

“I bet I could climb that.” Cole commented. His mother used to go rock climbing all the time before he was born, and after—though she had never been able to take him with her. The wasps under his skin agreed—and hadn’t It said something about “power over the earth” or something like that, once? It wasn’t like Cole would die if he fucked up and fell—

Vessel.

Cole had learned a lot about living off the land since leaving Marty Oppenheimer’s. So he’d probably be fine.

Vessel, do not climb that mountain.

“Why not?” Cole was already starting up the foothills, jogging along the incline towards a rock face that looked a little more climbable than the others.

There is something among those mountains.

Cole paused. He’d… never felt the spiders pulling back, before. “Are you… scared?” The thought was almost laughable; the shadow in his brain never got scared. The shadow in his brain did the scaring, not the other way around. “I thought you were the Great Calamity that Stalks the Night and Turns All Hearts to Rot.” He added, pulling up one of the more pretentious names It liked to use.

It is not… that.

Somehow, the shadow sounded shifty. Usually it was more direct with Cole.

It is simply something powerful. I fear for your safety, Vessel.

Cole’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed the first handhold he saw. “I thought you said I had nothing to fear.” but you. He hauled himself up onto a small cliff, where there was an incline he could climb more easily. The wasps in his chest buzzed angrily, but Cole pushed past it and kept going. After a moment, the shadows at the corners of his vision thinned, the spider settling back into Its corner. Cole kept climbing, half-forgotten memories of his mother’s stories filtering through his head.

When he was six, she’d taken him to a place full of special rock climbing walls with those colored handholds. He could hardly remember it, now, the memory lost to a haze of cobwebs, like every other memory of the time his mother still loved him. He didn’t try to chase the memory—he wouldn’t put it past the shadow to try and bury it harder. It had never liked Cole’s mother—and she hadn’t liked It, either. Cole had been a casualty of the crossfire.

Cole was pretty high up, now, having scrambled up a more sheer rock face with surprising speed. He actually wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so far without falling—though he could certainly feel the burn in his muscles as he pushed himself higher, higher, higher—

Vessel.

“Oh, what now?” Cole groaned. He got that he was beholden to the shadow, he understood that—but what was so wrong with climbing a mountain? It wasn’t like a dragon was just going to show up out of nowhere—It would have said something if that was the case.

House centipede legs scrabbled against his spine.

If you won’t listen to my words, then—

A spider crawling on his brain, tugging at threads—

Cole’s hand opened of its own accord, palm pushing against the stone to

throw

his body back

away

from the

rock

so that he was free falling, limbs locked up by so many coiling worms. The world spun slowly around him, the mountain rising up at incredible speed as Cole went down, down, down—

The impact knocked the air from his lungs with a sickening crunch. Pain slammed him like a wall of tiny needles, crackling his spine and snapping bones. Cole wheezed, feeling so much like a smear of human paste upon the ground. The world was spinning—was he getting dizzy? It was hard to breathe.

Get up.

Cole whined, as much as his aching chest would allow. He sounded—and felt—like a popped balloon slowly deflating. Not that the shadow cared how Cole felt.

Get up.

“Cuh.” Ohhhhh, Cole’s head hurt. His everything hurt. “Can’t.” How was he supposed to move? He’d just fallen several stories off a mountain!

Get up.

Cole couldn’t move his legs, his shoulders were agony—he couldn’t do it! He knew It knew that, so why—

Get. Up.

I can’t! What was Cole supposed to do? It had thrown him off a mountain! His vision blurred, and didn’t unblur—was he dying? The world was still spinning. His head hurt.

Get up!

Shadows crowded Cole’s vision. Violet light erupted from somewhere in his chest, so many ants marching around under his skin and laying down new threads—

A scream ripped from Cole’s throat as his broken bones started to knit themselves back together, legs and arms realigning in seconds. His chest heaved, seeming to split open for a moment before he could suddenly breathe again. Violet threads raced through his flesh hot enough to burn, knitting it all back together and forcing Cole up until he was standing on knees that threatened to buckle at any second.

Cole felt like he should probably be mad. But he mostly felt shaky and uncertain. Worms dug into his stomach, squirming up his chest at the spider’s direction.

You couldn’t get up on your own.

“Yeah.” Cole grit out. “I noticed.” He stumbled forwards, hands shaking. His bag swung at his side—his bag. Cole nearly tore it open, checking—okay, yeah, he’d need to replace more than half of this. That was what he got for landing on it, he supposed.

I can and will put you back together, Vessel. No matter how broken you get.

“Then why are you scared?” Why would the shadow be so bothered by something in the mountains if it could just put Cole back together?

It is not easy.

That… might have been the first weakness It had ever admitted to.

But the lesson was not so you could act recklessly, Vessel.

Well, then it wasn’t exactly a good lesson, because that the first thing he got from it. The spider in his brain bit down, tiny fangs digging in under his skull.

It was a demonstration. You could not get up on your own.

A frame is nothing without the picture behind it.

You are nothing without me, Vessel.

You would do well to remember that.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole drifted.

He drifted mostly westward, but he was still in the mountains, so he couldn’t go straight west. The shadow had been… not exactly quiet, since throwing him off the mountain, but It hadn’t bothered him as much. It had even brought back that old lullaby It used to comfort Cole when he was little. It wasn’t really an apology, but—

Well, it wasn’t like Cole could be mad at It, anyway. He was getting better at this rock climbing thing—it was honestly pretty fun! It was like a dance, him and the mountain moving in tandem to lift him higher and higher.

…he missed dancing. He missed watching his parents dance late at night.

Cole missed a lot of things he could never have again, really.

Cole was really high up, today—he’d gone straight for the peak of this mountain, and had just breached the clouds. The shadow had grumbled, but otherwise let him go, probably sensing the same weird pull that Cole felt.

With a grunt, Cole pulled himself up and over the edge to rest on the very summit—

There was an old man at the top of the mountain.

And old man… drinking tea. “Hello there.”

The spider skittered as far back as it could go, the shadows disappearing entirely. No ants squirmed under Cole’s skin, no worms in his stomach or wasps in his chest, no isopods crawling along his bones. It was all still there, but—It was clearly trying to hide. Which…

This is what It had been afraid of? This old man?

“Um.” Cole greeted, not entirely sure what to say. “How did you—”

That is a dragon, Vessel. Tread carefully.

The old man—dragon—hummed. “Maybe that is a question for me to ask.” He said. “But first: why do you climb the mountain?”

“Because I wanted to.” Because I’ll come out okay even if I fall. “It’s like a dance,” The words were spilling from Cole’s lips, “Me and the mountain, working together. And I like dancing, but I couldn’t stay at that school and continue to learn when everybody hated me—” He swallowed. “I guess I just wanted an escape. From everyone.” He couldn’t say that he wanted to be alone, because he was never truly alone. But he wasn’t lying about wanting space from other people—what was the point in hanging around them anyway, if the shadow was just going to freak them out?

The dragon-who-looked-like-an-old-man nodded. “It is easy to feel discouraged when we are alienated by our peers.” He agreed. “If you knew that they would like you, would you go back?”

“They wouldn’t.” Cole grumbled. “And I can’t go back.”

“I see.” The old-man-maybe-dragon nodded. “You are someone who keeps moving forwards, then.”

Cole felt just a little bit too seen. “Is that good or bad?” He asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Shadows crept around his feet.

“Yes… and no.” The old dragon answered, which wasn’t an answer at all. “Being able to move forwards is an admirable thing,” he explained, “but sometimes one must look back at where they’ve come from. You cannot appreciate the mountain’s height without looking to the valleys below.”

“O…kay?” Ugh, this wasn’t making any sense, and the spiders under his skull were getting agitated. “Why did you climb the mountain, then?”

The old-man-who-didn’t-look-like-a-dragon smiled into his teacup. “Why, to meet you, Cole.”

[clumsiestgiantess]

A g/t scenario I think about late at night:

Character A thought it would be cool to complete a miniatures set as a fun side project to help de-stress.  Once they finish building it, they proudly display it on a shelf, but as the first few days of its completion go by, character A realizes that the pieces aren’t where they’d set them up before.  Day after day they check on the miniature cabin they’d made, only to find signs that it’s been lived in.  Chairs are pushed back from tables like someone sat in them, books are taken off the shelf and strewn across a coffee table, bedsheets are rumpled as if someone sat in them, there’s even little crumbs left on the kitchen counter.  

One day character A decides enough is enough and comes home early to catch whoever is messing with their miniature.  They find character B, perfectly scaled to the tiny cabin, lying comfortably on the couch.  Character B, scared and confused by character A‘s sudden appearance, darts away out the tiny back door.  Character A tries to catch character B, but they’re gone.  They wonder if what they saw was even real.  The next day they try tricking the tiny thing by coming in at yet another different time.  It works and this time they block off the back door, trapping character B.  They don’t intend to harm them, they just want to know who and what they are.

(more under cut because this is a longer one)

From here, the story can go one of two routes (I pick different ones to imagine depending on my mood)

Route 1:

Character B is a borrower.  They lost their home in the walls due to an infestation of termites (it could be whatever reason really.  They might just move into the cabin because it’s a lot better than their old house.)  Either way, character B loves life in the miniature cabin.  There’s working electricity, perfect furniture they don’t need to make for themselves, and a high vantage point with easy access to the snacks the human leaves out on their desk.  Everything seems to be working in their favor until the human comes home earlier than expected, just as character B was settling down on the couch after a good borrowing run.

Seeing the human staring down at them, they quickly rush away out the back door and down the rope cord they use to get off of the shelf.  Character B hides in the walls the whole day, scared of getting captured by the human.  As soon as the human leaves the following morning, character B rushes back into the cabin and begins cleaning up any signs they were there, packing away any of the tools and other items they have that don’t belong in the miniature.

Before they can finish, the human returns.  Character B realizes how stupid they were to come back for their things and rushes to the back door again, but this time the human stops them.  They panic and look around wildly for another exit as the human, character A, watches them in shock.  Before character A can react, character B leaps off the shelf after running through an open wall.  They hope they can land on the next shelf down, but they hit the edge instead.  Character B clings to the wood for a moment before falling all the way to the ground.  The fall should’ve killed them, but character A catches them instead.

Maybe after some reassurance from character A, B realizes that A wasn't trying to hurt them and character A lets B live in the little cabin.  Maybe character B pulls out a borrower weapon on A and manages to escape to another living space, underneath the sink.  (Character A will undoubtedly find them again later)

Route 2:

Character B is a human.  They were left an old cabin in the woods by some late relative and decided to live in it for a while like a short vacation before selling it.  They were laying on the couch after a long day of seeking out realtors when suddenly a few of the walls around them fizzle out and disappear.  Character B is left staring up at a literal giant.  They escape through the back door (the front door disappeared with the walls) and find that everything outside is normal.  After a few hours of debating what to do, character B steps tentatively back inside.  Everything is normal now.

Character B assumes what they saw was a weird hallucination caused by stress and tries to ignore it, continuing to live in the cabin.  The next day, at some obscene mid-morning hour, the walls disappear as they’re cleaning the cabin.  Again a giant looms over them and they rush to the back door to escape like they had before, but the giant blocks it with their hand.  Character B scrambles away from the hand and dashes under a table, curled up and shaking in fear.  

Meanwhile the giant, character A, stares at character B confused.  “Who are you?  How are you so small?  Why are you living in my cabin?”  Character B stares up at them from beneath the table.  Did they just say this is their cabin?  First meeting stuff ensues as both characters confusedly try to figure out what happened.  Character A realizes that B is a person like them, and the cabin has a real life counterpart somewhere in the woods in a neighboring country.  Character B realizes (similarly to A) that the giant is actually just a person, and they somehow have a scale model of the cabin they’re staying in which makes them able to access the real one.

Maybe character B decides to keep the cabin and learns more about character A, and the two can become unlikely friends.  Maybe character B doesn’t want anything to do with this and abandons the cabin, leaving the next homeowner to deal with the strange giant person.

If anyone wants to use these for a story, I’ll be happy to read it!  I doubt I’ll do anything more with these ideas other than daydream about them, anyways.

[night-raven-miscellany]

Guh-

Why are there so many random dudes showing up to my dorm or following me around after classes? Askin me stupid questions or wantin to fight.

I told the boys they needed to cut that shit out before it got too out of hand and look where I am now... Ugh.

*sigh* I shouldnta said yes to that Ratt punk and his friend for an interview. I'm guessin that they're somehow related to my... Sudden burst in popularity...

Oh? You're... Asking about... The leader of the Black Sheep??? The dude is pretty notorious for skipping out on pictures... But I guess I can give you a little bit of info on him. The only pictures I've got, though, are sketches from an art activity and some rare sightings... Hope that that's sufficient enough...

(picrew on the right is the newer black centered picrew!)

Ok here it is... Found his student file in these random documents from the headmaster... This probably breaks so many laws...

Izem Usiku (イゼム・ウシック－Izemmu Ushikku)

Other Names: “"Lionfish”

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Age: 18

Birthday: 6/30

Starsign: Cancer

Height: 192 cm (6’3”)

Eyes: Dark Brown

Hair: Goldenrod

Homeland: Afterglow Savanna

Family: Two unnamed younger brothers, one unnamed younger sister.

Dorm: Savanaclaw

School Year: Third

Class: 3-C, Student no.17

Occupation: Student

Club: Science Club

Best Subject: Practical Magic

Dominant Hand: Right

Favorite Food: Charcuterie

Least Favorite Food: Prank Sweets (think Beanboozled, candied bugs, weird soda flavors, etc.)

Dislikes: Betrayal, Termites

Hobbies: Managing his “gang”

Talents: Extreme Parkour

A rather brotherly Savanaclaw third-year with a skill for throwing hands. He’s in charge of a group of delinquent students from various houses that wish to rebel against their housewardens. Ironically, he’s incredibly supportive of his own housewarden and encourages his dormmates to feel the same.

His Unique Magic, "For the King", is functionally similar to that of "Follow Me" in the Pokemon series, in that it directs all attacks towards a target to him instead. Like a lightning rod for magical attacks but only those directed at a target of his choosing.

[tofautisawa]

I'm REALLY curious on what you mean by TLG giving ass backwards treatment to Jasiri and her pack

I like Jasiri, don't get me wrong. It's nice to have a hyena character in The Lion King franchise that isn't just a stupid cackling villain. She has a cute design, and I always enjoyed the episodes she appeared it. Don't Judge A Hyena By It's Spots being one of my top favorite episodes of season 1.

However, she is only "good" by the narrative because she and her clan live by the Pride Land's specific "Circle Of Life" ideology. A ideology that in my opinion, doesn't benefit her, her clan, or her species AT ALL. She and spotted hyenas in general are still subjected to living in a barren wasteland with little to no resources. (The Lion Guard even one ups this by saying even TERMITES don't live in the Outlands just to get the Aardwolves to come back. Continuity be damned.) They only got one water source to call their own. They live near an active volcano with open lava pits that one can easily fall into ( and one that she and the cubs nearly died in). There is absolutely no bitterness from any innocent hyenas, and they basically just accepted that this is how they must live. Jasiri can sing Kwetu Ni Kwetu all she wants, the melody will go real great with the sound of her homies sizzling at the bottom of a lava pit next to Ushari.

It's actually really bad that Makucha ( a reoccurring villain) is subjected to live in a much better environment filled with prey, water, and plenty of vegetation where even the zebras are happier.

And I say subjected because I never got the vibe that these animals live where they do out of their own volition, more like they are assigned. Aside from the hyenas not being allowed in the Pride Lands, I never got that vibe from the movies. It really makes me wish Fuli's quote from the pilot about "Always the Lions lording over the Pride Lands" was expanded on and explored. Anyways.... The show also never really addresses what she even eats, because I doubt much prey ventures into the out lands. BUT DON'T WORRY- Jasiri states that hyenas are clean up crews and eat what lions leave behind. Further reinforcing that outdated belief that spotted hyenas are primarily scavengers (which Ono even states in a later episode because he has to be the "educational mouthpiece" even when he's blatantly wrong). I can appreciate the show trying to show the benefits of scavengers- but it really should have been saved for animals like the vultures. So the show couldn't even make her and her clan respectable hunters that only hunt specifically what they need ( Probably because there is nothing TO hunt and whenever Janja is shown hunting on his own damn lands, he is stopped but I digress). I can't even help but wonder how she even CAN scavenge if all the lions live in the Pride Lands, and the alarm is sounded whenever a hyena sets a toe within Pride Land territory- unless the lions are just dumping corpses into the Outlands. This is probably why they had the show outright lie to you and pretend that Aardwolves are no way related to Spotted Hyenas because they can't have the children asking why they are allowed in the pride lands and not a friend of our protagonists, Jasiri.

Also, The hyenas specifically are only treated as "good" the very second they don't hunt for food and instead scavenge, and ONLY scavenge. (Not by their own choice) Compare this to Fuli who has been shown hunting, and it's treated as a bad thing that her hunts got interrupted and she doesn't get to eat. BUT WHATEVER, YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT IT MUCH! LOOK AT THE FUNNY HONEY BADGER!!!

I honestly wouldn't even be complaining about any of this if it turned out Jasiri secretly lived in a oasis within or in the outskirts of the Outlands, or even the Backlands where she had access to prey or even later got a better land for her own in the end.

Keep in mind, this is all just my opinion. And you are free to disagree with me. And it's been a hot minute since I watched The Lion Guard so my details might be off here and there. Just don't try to pull the whole "It's a preschool show" argument, because that really doesn't matter to me.

[iiseult]

Jerry Pascal x reader: My Name is Leroy (pt. 1)

Note: Truly nobody asked for this but there was zero Jerry x reader content on the internet (prob bc everyone else is NORMAL) so I thought I might contribute. Crossposted on my ao3.

CWs -> AFAB reader, female pronouns, use of Y/N (I know this triggers some of you), smoking, alcohol, cigarettes, descriptions violence (not super graphic but maybe later lol who knows), eventual smut

You knocked on the front door, tapping your foot anxiously against the creaky wooden planks. You had half a mind to double check that you’d gotten the address right– this house seemed awfully big for just two people, especially when their only form of income was working at the shitty gas station at the edge of town. The front porch was long and guarded by a low wooden railing, which was covered in a layer of peeling white paint. There was a bay window with dirty, clouded glass, dainty wooden trim that conjured up images of a gingerbread house, and even a third floor. You couldn’t help but gawk at the facade, your head tilted all the way back in order to see the widow’s watch at the top of the house. You wondered what the place might have looked like in its prime, before it became waterlogged and infested with termites. You were just about to pull out your phone and check the address Jack had sent when the door suddenly swung open, and the man on the other side of it sure wasn’t Jack.

“Well, hello there.”

Tall, but not that tall. Blonde, but not super blonde– maybe closer to brown with blonde highlights. Messy, but not dirty. A friendly smile on his scruffy face. Wearing a shirt that said, “Hello, my name is Leroy, fight me.” Must have been Jack’s roommate, but you were surprised. Jack never mentioned how…kind of hot his roommate was. You tried not to let it show on your face just how caught off-guard you were.

“Hi, I’m here to meet Jack?” you said tentatively, still kinda worried you’d gotten the wrong address, but your doubts were soon put to rest. The man’s smile widened as he looked down at you; he was a good few inches taller. He made a show of checking you out, scanning his eyes down your body and then back up again.

“Well, you’re in the right place! Jack’s inside. Come on in,” he said, moving to the side and gesturing with an open palm for you to step inside. You did, thanking him in the process, taking in your surroundings.

The living room, as big as it was, was kind of barren. There was a big rug in the middle with trippy patterns on it and a futon positioned to face the TV. On the opposite wall was a fireplace, a little wooden side table that looked old enough to crumble into dust, and a lamp casting yellow light around the room. Above the TV, a giant sword was mounted, half-sheathed and glistening coldly. From where you were standing you could just make out the letters “Property Of Jerry” scrawled in messy sharpie on the hilt. The man, who you concluded had to have been Jerry, shut the front door and followed you into the living room.

“Jack’s in the shower right now. He might be a minute,” Jerry explained. You nodded and wandered over to the fireplace, a smile spreading across your face when you noticed what was on the mantle.

“Nice empties collection,” you said, turning back around to face Jerry, who puffed out his chest proudly and ran a hand through his effortlessly-messy-but-still-sexy hair.

“Thanks. Made those puppies all by myself,” he explained. Then he leaned in a bit closer to get a better look at your face. “Wow, you’re, like, a really attractive girl, you know?”

You laughed and couldn’t help but blush, shaking your head a little, holding in the urge to say something stupid, like ‘you, too.’ Instead, you decided on keeping it simple.

“Thanks, you’re sweet.”

Jerry perked up a little more at your laugh, his eyes brightening. He was enjoying the way you reacted; definitely affected by him, but also definitely not shy. He took a step closer, holding out his bigger hand for you to shake.

“You’re very welcome,” he said, his voice dropping slightly lower as he gave you his best supermodel-smolder face, which you had to actively try not to laugh at. “My name is Jerry. Not sure if Jack mentioned me.”

You took his hand and shook it firmly, noticing how nicely it enveloped yours, and grinned.

“Oh yeah, he’s told me plenty. All good things, of course. Mostly,” you said, and he raised an eyebrow, still shaking your hand.

“He did…lowkey, accidentally…tell me the entire story of your involvement in that cult, though,” you added sheepishly. Jerry just laughed loudly and reluctantly let go of your hand.

“Wanna go sit on the couch?”

***

Jerry was about halfway through a story about that time a raccoon gave birth in the storage room of the gas station when Jack finally came rushing down the stairs, the thunder of his footsteps and his loud cry of, “sorry, sorry! I lost track of time,” altering you of his presence. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower and his T-shirt was wrinkled, but his face broke out into a genuine smile as soon as he saw you.

“Jack!”

“Hey, man, join us,” Jerry said, his voice cheerful, “We were just chatting.”

You and Jack hadn’t seen each other in almost a full year, since last summer break when you were on at the gas station as a full-time employee for a few months before you had to go back to school. That had been your gig every summer since your family moved to this town in freshman year of college. Now, you were finishing your fifth– and hopefully final– year of undergrad, back home for a nice, two-week-long spring break. The first thing you did when you got back was shoot Jack a text, asking if he wanted to catch up, and he, just thrilled to even have any form of a social life, of course said yes, inviting you over for dinner.

Dinner meant ordering Chinese takeout, but you weren't complaining, since Jack had already offered to cover the cost. As the two of you ate, Jerry decided to make himself scarce to give you a little privacy, retreating to the backyard to “play with his pile of tin cans.” Jack didn’t ask any questions, so you followed his lead.

After regaling Jack with tales of your busy senior year of college and listening to a few of his wild stories from another year working at the gas station, there was a lull in the conversation. Jack took a sip of his ginger ale. You cleared your throat. Now that your mind wasn’t distracted by other things, it apparently couldn’t help but drift off to thinking about Jerry, and, already being a few beers deep, you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting,

“Your friend Jerry’s kinda hot, man.”

Jack looked up from his soda, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Then he grinned, a hint of mischief in his expression.

“Jerry? You think he’s hot, huh?” he said, his voice laced with amusement. You blushed a little and furrowed your brows.

“Well, what’s the matter with that?”

He held up his hands in a defensive gesture, still grinning.

“Hey, nothing’s the matter, with it. He’s a good-looking guy, I can see why you’d think so.”

You mumbled something about how if Jack knew Jerry was hot, why didn’t he tell you before? But you decided to drop that fruitless line of questioning, instead pushing some noodles around your plate idly, looking down at them as if they had suddenly become interesting. Jack narrowed his eyes at you, his smile fading a little. He could tell that you were more than a little interested in his roommate; maybe even a little flustered, judging by the faint pink color dusting your cheeks.

Finally, You broke the silence.

“So, you think I should say something to him?”

Jack just shrugged, a slightly pained expression taking over his face. Jerry was a great guy and he knew the two of you would probably hit it off, but for some reason the idea didn’t sit well with him. He knew it wasn’t because he didn’t like imagining you with Jerry; it was because he didn’t like imagining you with anyone. He felt strangely protective over you for some odd reason. You were one of his only friends, and definitely the only person that had ever reached out and made an effort to see him. You were fun to spend time with and you never judged him– not too harshly, anyways. And all of those things made him feel kinda good inside, and if you started dating someone, wouldn’t it just be too weird for you to keep hanging out with the creepy, single guy who worked at the gas station?

“I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea. Jerry is, like, a certified disaster,” he said, trying to ignore the spike of guilt that shot through his chest when he saw the way your face fell.

“I get it, I really do. He’s attractive, charming, a goofball,” he continued, waving his can of ginger ale in the air as he talked, “but trust me, he’s a lot more trouble than he’s worth.”

“And how do you know what is and isn’t worth it?” you said back, your expression unreadable now. A flicker of regret flashed across Jack's face. Maybe his words were a little too harsh; Jerry was worth the trouble for some people. He certainly was for Jack. He sighed and vigorously ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m just trying to warn you. He’s really impulsive and…carefree, in a word,” he said, a bit disdainfully, “And between you and me, I think he actually likes getting into trouble.”

You pursed your lips and looked across the room to the back window, through which you could see Jerry hunched over something, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on whatever it was he was doing– presumably playing with his pile of cans. You didn’t say anything else about it to Jack for the rest of the night, and by the time Jerry came back into the house to show off the giant model assault rifle he had constructed out of beer cans and gorilla glue, you had already made up your mind; that man was a disaster whose pants you absolutely needed to get into at least once in your life.

[meet-at-tycho]

....... ALSO.

he likes when i compliment his voice I REALLY DO LOVE IT THOUGH. when i say youve been blessed by the tessie gods i REALLY mean that, genuinely. love when yr telling me about yr day, love when yr making absolutely bizarre autistic noises, love when you sing . YOU ARE SILLY!!!!!!!! ive genuinely. no i just LIKE YOU okay. me when i like you? me when i enjoy my best friend??? listened to those fucking stupid DUMB VOICE MESSAGES YOU SENT LIKE. ON LOOP.. to hear yr terrible awful jokes yes but also to hear yr laughter??? LIKE I WAS. TEEEHEHEEH... JOY. WHIMSY EVEN

i still will never forget that time she screamed exactly like a chimpanzee ripping someones face off during namielle fight that genuinely is one of the best moments of my life im. I PUT THAT MEMORY IN AFUCKING PICTURE FRAME AND REPLAY IT ALL THE TIME its so good. i like her voice too!!!!!! even when shes breaking the sound barrier SHES. I HAVE THE SILLIEST FRIENDS IN THE WORLD FOR REAL/??? plus shes always saying the craziest shit like the way she'll go from dumb little termite to spitting poetry completely unprompted, like AWARD WINNING POETRY. LIFE CHANGING POETRY and then shes back to bug.

theyre both so talented too like. i wonder if i tell them that enough? I HOPE I DO BUT.. no im so. IM YR BIGGEST FAN ALRIGHT ill always be here rooting for you cuz THEYRE SO GOOD AT WHAT THEY DO... fantastic art, fantastic writing, mans playing the trumpet!!!!!!!!!!!! also the way he just talks about like. MUSIC THINGS TO ME, i dont understand a lot of it but i still love to listen so much like. YES SIR!!! 5/4 TIME SIGNATURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! do i know what this means, NO !!! but i still think its cute to listen to. AUTISM is always condoned here. the way shes always coming up with shit, i genuinely. i dont give a SHIT about that game at a base level, all of my appreciation comes from the shit shes come up with ITS THE ONLY THING PUSHING ME FORWARD...... so smart genuinely like. im fascinated by it i want to inspect her under a microscope (short joke) HOW ARE YOU LKE THIS... she just keeps creating and creating and its SO. endearing i love how they just create things all the time really i cant get enough IT MAKES ME SO PROUD TO SEE ANY OF IT.. guys please keep being you forever and always, even if you never see this PLEASEE keep shining okay you are so . good isnt a strong enough word, wonderful maybe.. everything!!!!! you are everything

[sophieswundergarten]

Yet Another Sophie Live-blog Reaction to Reading "S.O.S" (Chapter 14)

@nobody33333333 I love this chapter so much!!! I love all of your stuff, but this was so neat!!! Absolutely beautiful :)

So, without further ado, my insanely unhinged notes on how Bods has yet again created a masterpiece:

The Title Is Scaring Me

However, reading one of the Great Jeffers Scenes right off the bat made me quite happy

Erika!!

(Yes. I will continue to cheer for every single minor character whose name I manage to recognise :>)

Oh boy, the magic scene

How dare you make me Feel Things over Curtain’s stupid magic tricks

Something about “Martina didn’t deserve the Brain Sweeper. Not because of them” is just so good!! It perfectly parallels things that the Society has said/thought before, and I really like how you added it right here

And we once again enter the spiral otherwise known as “Curtain Rationalising War Crimes to Himself” SIR. You can’t wipe a child’s brain and call it a good thing!!

“But fortunately for Martina, being betrayed by a member of the Wetherall family was a situation with which Dr. Curtain could empathize.” Oh goodness. I see we’re pulling no punches this chapter.

I really love how you explain Curtain’s little magic trick in practical terms, as well as why he did it. Because, even though it’s warped and kind of problematic, he still loves Kate

Also, his concept of “the principle of the matter” and how he keeps his promises is such an interesting detail to include in his thoughts!!! I like how it communicates his morals and loopholes, because with that “letter of the law” kind of thinking, of course there are some things he’d let slide

THE MISUNDERSTANDING. THE WAY CURTAIN IS TRYING TO COMFORT HER IN HIS WEIRD SICKO WAY AND KATE IS TERRIFIED BECAUSE SHE THINKS SHE’S GOING TO LOSE SOME OF THE MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN HER LIFE. AHHHHHHH

Just. “a mix of confusion and terror” is the perfect way to describe all of Kate’s responses to Curtain being all wacky at her

Ah, yes. The “Milligan Surrendering Bit”. This marks the first time of many (Aside from seeing your message that you were updating) that I had to walk away and screech and wave my hands about before coming back to continue reading

The greys are so bad at their jobs, honestly. Even if he’s lying, you should probably react with more of a plan than “Okay, sure, lets take this guy in!”

(At least, that’s my opinion. I’m sure they’re trying their best, and Milligan appearing out of the bushes would be disconcerting to anyone)

OH. OHHHHHHHH MY WORD. Milligan doing all the same stuff he’s done so many times before but he doesn’t know it. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. And we’re so close to him getting (At least some) of his memories back, too. I don’t know how to feel but most of it is just insane amounts of anticipation

I love the exchange of "[W]hat exactly do I want you for?” / “Everything.” / “Everything?” so very much. I enjoyed watching it on-screen, but the subtle details you add make it so much better, especially because the written format you’re using allows you to see what the characters are thinking about each other. Stupendous

ALSO. THE PARTS WHERE CURTAIN GETS ALL WORKED UP BECAUSE HE THINKS NICHOLAS IS PURPOSEFULLY TRYING TO HURT HIM (Especially when they involve the Wetheralls) ARE RIDICULOUS AND FANTASTIC. I AM LOSING IT. I’M GOING TO RELEASE TERMITES IN YOUR BASEBOARDS. AJKDJKDSKJDFJKDSJKDS

Oh, and he knows that Milligan cares about Kate so much!!! The dramatic irony of Curtain (As the kind of “main character”) and the audience knowing all of the things, and then he just refuses to elaborate on his creepy vague statements is both beautiful and infuriating

“Well, Curtain figured, traitor or not, the least he could do was indulge his former friend. For old times sake. After all, Curtain had the time to spare, and for as much as he liked to think of himself as the superior performer, he couldn’t deny that Wetherall’s stories always had a bit of a dramatic flair to them. Curtain supposed there was nothing wrong with a little entertainment before his moment of triumph.” This paragraph is gorgeous. I love it. I love it, I love it, I love it. It just made me feel such heartache and hopefulness at the same time. Curtain's pain and Milligan being just on the edge of remembering, oh my word. I don’t have any clue how to put words to the exquisite mix of emotions reading it creates in me.

MARTINA MARTINA MARTINA MARTINA MARTINA

It’s really interesting how you write Martina’s reasoning, with her telling herself that if people got in trouble, it was because they deserved it. She didn’t get in trouble because she worked hard, and that's how the world worked. (I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that her parents don’t seem to value the work she puts into things and how she might feel like she has to earn appreciation)

Oh no. Jackson and Jillson. This can go one of two ways and I don’t feel like either of them are good

Once again, your J&J dialogue is spot on and fills me with very happy wiggles

I don’t know if it was intentional, but the fact that Jackson is the one who says “or us” both times when they’re saying Martina wouldn’t betray them is so sad

THE CONFLICT. THE EMOTIONAL TURMOIL. The way that Martina is wrestling with doing what’s right and betraying the only friends or security she’s known up to now and the way that Jackson and Jillson don’t know how to form independent opinions but they still care about her and it is just a huge mess but I love it!!!! AH

I’m really proud of Martina, and of course the way you detailed her decision is wonderful, but I am still so sad for them

Okay. Bods. Listen to me. The way that you can write such gut wrenching angst and sorrow and have so many heartfelt moments, but you also pepper in things like “(which apparently included the lengthy task of painting perfect rectangles onto a warehouse floor, lots sneaking through the sewers, and testing the believability of several disguises and accents, all of which Wetherall was happy to demonstrate)” is flabbergasting. That’s such a delicate balance, and somehow you execute it perfectly each and every time. I love how this fic is a huge mix of things, because I know that I will never have to face overwhelming despair, but it also has enough intrigue and complexity that I am always invested. You are unfathomably talented.

MILLIGAN AND GARRISON OH NO I’M GOING TO LOSE IT ONCE MORE

And more hints to Garrison’s opinions on psychics!!! Oh goodness gracious, I want to shake her. Just talk to someone for heaven's sake. Ask for help!!!

The memory fragments you keep slipping in for Milligan’s point of view as extraordinary and I love them but also I am going to have to start shredding bedsheets now

AND THE FACT THAT THE LINES ARE FROM THAT FIGHT. I knew immediately what scene it was, and the “Where was your precious conscience then?” just about had me sobbing on the ground

But, you know, par for the course, this chapter made it so much more painful

“Milligan almost took a step back as Curtain approached him. He felt a sensation creeping up on him. A familiar sensation, one that told him to run.” followed by “Curtain did not bother to watch as his men dragged Wetherall to the Brain Sweeper. There was no need. He had already watched them do it so many times already.” was like being decked in the face twice over in the span of thirty seconds

And Curtain!! Who is still grieving his friends because he can’t let himself process one (1) single emotion in a healthy way ever!!! And so he has fully committed himself to the idea that what he’s doing is the right decision that he has basically no sense of reality at this point. It’s such a weird whiplash effect to go from the mostly reliable narration of some of the other characters to Professional Liar Curtain's inner monologue

I wonder if he truly didn’t think it would cause Garrison problems to sweep Milligan or if he just had so much going on he figured it was worth the risk to trust her with it

ASKJFHDSKJSLDKGASJKDFJDSK NO!!!!!!!

Garrison and Kate is one of the worst potential relationships we lost in my opinion

(I say as if it doesn’t change all the time depending on which bit I’m reading)

Oh, and they took her bucket. And Garrison doesn’t know why it’s so important.

THE CABINET.

Oh, yes!!! YES!! Garrison, oh my goodness I am so excited. She may not be the best person, but she’s trying her hardest and I have been waiting to see what she would do for ages. You’ve made her into such a compelling character. Oh great heavens. **Incoherent screaming**

StickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickySticky

“Curtain looked at Sticky in surprise. The sequence was right, but Sticky had messed up the first part. He had ordered people not only to not acknowledge that Curtain’s commands were in their heads, but to ignore to them entirely.” I am infatuated with how you add these little details, because even though they might be what would logically follow, you give them such a sense of belonging in the story and it makes the whole thing a lot richer.

Oh dear, every time Curtain starts thinking about which of the kids are spies he goes along the lines of “Of course! It was so obvious!” and somehow he’s still always off

“As for Reynie Muldoon, the boy clearly had some social issues and was a bit of a rule breaker” Why does he keep judging this child so harshly

GARRISON’S RUNNING. I THINK SHE’S ABOUT TO GO DO SOMETHING INADVISABLE

Isaac!!! I was holding my breath waiting for this since you mentioned him and I am so excited!!!

Aw man, he’s such a goof.

You don’t know how happy I am that you resolved poor Isaac being sent out into the woods

“-Martina doesn’t like you. Reynie lied to you so that you would give him his keycard.” For some reason this line stuck out to me. It’s so… visceral. It’s very blunt, but it’s true. And it’s showing a much more vital side of Garrison that she’s been hiding from for years, and I’m ecstatic about her little (and big) character breakthroughs

“ “But maybe one day I’ll learn to love again,” the thirteen-year-old boy mused sadly. “And maybe the next time things will work out.” ” Who is this child. Why is he like this. I have so many questions but I love thim.

In a way, he’s so mature, and the way he reacted to Garrison has a lot of sensibility in it, but also he’s thirteen

OKAY

OKAY LISTEN

I STILL CAN’T PROCESS THIS BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS AMAZING FANTASTIC LOVELY WONDERFUL AWESOME GLORIOUS EXTRAORDINARY PART THAT YOU WROTE

I AM TRYING MY BEST BUT MY MIND DISSOLVES INTO LITERAL GIBBERISH WHENEVER I THINK ABOUT IT SO FOR THE SAKE OF GETTING THIS OUT SOON I’M GOING TO HAVE TO PUT THAT PART ON HOLD

BUT KNOW THAT I LOVE IT AND I WAS SCREAMING SO MUCH LAST NIGHT AND I STILL AM SCREAMING RIGHT NOW

(I do love that you added Mr. Oshiro being like “I’m an actor!” in the middle of that)

The Jackson and Jillson stuff almost killed me. I don’t know how I’m going to survive the rest of this fic when you try and give me a heart attack every few minutes

YEAH MILLIGAN

I need you to know that I legitimately started laughing out loud as soon as the clapping happened

I was giggling like a madman, alone in the dark, and I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it

“Milligan frantically looked around him, looking for the sight of Kate Wetherall (which was the only person Milligan assumed Jeffers could have been referring to), but of course, found no one.” Yet another hugely artistic and lovely line that I want to hug extremely tightly

I adore how once again Milligan is completely distracted and Does Not Care In The Slightest and just knocks Jeffers out and keeps moving

Peak “rival” relationship

HHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and—

AND SHE KNOWS. SHE KNOWS HE’S KATE’S DAD AND I WANT TO HUG HER

Oh. Oh, and she thinks he’s going to hurt her. And she thinks she deserves it

This is the “I think you need better friends” / “And I think my friend deserves better” thing all over again and I’m going to cry

THEY’RE BOTH CONFUSED AND SAD AND HURT AND THEY CAN’T COMFORT EACH OTHER

AND SHE TELLS HIM

SHE TELLS HIM AND I WASN’T EXPECTING THAT AND ONCE AGAIN I HAVE FALLEN PREY TO THE NOBODY SIGNATURE LAST SCENE GUT PUNCH

“And this could all be a lie, a distraction, there was no point in Milligan getting his hopes up when he had a mission to fulfill, and… if Kate was his then he…he wouldn’t have abandoned her, he could never have forgotten her…could he?” Oh, hello. Thank you for ripping my heart out again

I do really love how you worked the bit about Milligan’s hair being short in

(Also because I cut my hair and donate it every couple years, so that was kind of a neat personal connection for me :>)

“Milligan’s eyes began to fill with tears, realizing just how much he might have lost. A daughter who grew up without her mother or her father, a love he had lost and couldn’t even remember. A part of him didn’t want so much tragedy to be real. And…it might not be. These memories still felt so far away, it felt like he was remembering a dream he’d had once. But to another part of him, it felt right. Like was the truth that he had been searching for all along, and whether it was unpleasant or not didn’t matter because it was real. It was his life.” There are too many absolutely majestic snippets of your writing. I’m sorry for copy-pasting so much of your own work, but it’s driving me up a wall.

Oh!! OH!! And she gives him memory revival tricks!!!!

But they can’t help him.

AND HE CAN’T JUST LEAVE. BECAUSE HE STILL CARES ABOUT HER.

BUT. BUT GARRISON STILL THINKS SHE’S IRREDEEMABLE. 

“ “No one deserves this,” Milligan insisted, “including you.” ”

AND THEN YOU BRING THE DREAM THING BACK AGAIN

And it’s in Isaac’s little speech!! And Jeffers!!! Oh man, I don’t know if I’m reading too much into it, but you and your metaphors and your themes and your motifs and just your writing

Poor Garrison somehow always ends up alone. Oh, I want Milligan to be able to talk to her!!!

Also can you please stop causing my molecules to disintegrate because your fic is so good? I’m going to freeze every butterknife you own in a block of ice

Bods!!! So, so good!!! I know I completely skipped over Isaac and Lindsey and the kids and everything, but this was already, like, five pages long and that particular scene sends me into such a state of elation that I can’t articulate a coherent thought at the moment. I am so happy that I had the time and ability to read this chapter as soon as it came out, and I thank you once again for sharing your genius ideas and beautiful writing skills!! It made my whole week, and I just cannot get over how talented you are :)

[digidrakncreature]

Some Digimorph Thoughts

Before reading this imagine that every sentence begins with "I think maybe"

Don't know if I was specifically a mutant but I think my entire colony was mutated some generation before me. Like our hive was just on top of some magic stone or something.

Lived underground like ants/termites tunnels and chambers

ate mushrooms and ... moles? rats? some sort of digging rodents. and also these natural crystals that were definitely some sort of collectable.

We went on gathering/hunting trips. I liked apples. I liked outside. I liked the sky.

We were either a low level kind of fodder enemy or an upgraded version of that mob. Shapeshifters. We could have been mimics, maybe. I don't know. I know only that I'm a terrible mimic, myself, and probably hadn't been good at it then either.

I left my colony for the sky, for exploration, for adventure and apples.

We didn't raise our young. I think maybe all our eggs were placed in the same chamber – nobody knew if any gobbler was their spawn or not. (Gobbler = accidental term I'd made once that fits, they eat a lot to pupate.)

It was considered important to try to procreate at least a little to continue the colony. So I made 1 egg – by myself – our spawn are basically randomized traits that can be created by 1 to 3 of us, depending on how big a pool of traits you wanted that drawing to have. I left the egg and I left the colony.

Was that the catalyst for my code being corrupted? Or did I already have a glitch that caused me to go against what I was programmed to be? It doesn't really matter, end result is the same, and it's not like any of us had any actual choices. The programmers would just make a copy and go down every path anyway.

There was a tiger. It wasn't the same shape as tigers are here. Longer legs, shorter body, I think she might have been a humanoid tigerfolk. I think she might have been the adventurer I chose to travel with.

Just having feelings about:

- being a low level enemy in a videogame — imagine we were just living our lives sitting on some plot relevant item and an adventurer or team of adventurers could have just wiped us out just to get to the stupid thing that we didn't even know was there and didn't need or want

- living underground. digging

- living in a sort of hive society???

[bogleech]

This is a dumb and sad attitude and I'm tired of seeing it over and over in my notes just because I've reblogged positive posts like this one.

They aren't intruders or unwanted visitors in your home, they have no idea what your home is. How on earth could they? It's a mass of foreign materials in their path, the size of a continent to them, and an unnatural one built by unfathomable giants.

They don't hate you, and almost none of them DO anything that can "bug" you. There are tens of thousands of groups of them and the groups that might harm you can be counted on one hand.

In my decades of existence I have never killed anything but ticks, fleas, mosquitoes in the process of biting me, a single bedbug at a doctor's office, a German cockroach infestation (the only really problematic roaches) and a couple ant colonies, in particular the ant colony that got into the insects I keep as pets and ate a hunch of them. I know I'd also have to kill lice and dry wood termites in my home but I haven't met them yet.

And that's it. Almost nothing else messes with people or people things, unless you're a gardener, but if I were a gardener a much longer list would also be allies in fighting the "pests" or pollinators my plants need.

Nothing happens if you leave all the other ones alone. They aren't going to climb into your bed and suck your blood if they're a cricket or a beetle. A lacewing or a crane fly isnt interested in your food. Nothing "must die" just because you aesthetically dislike how it looks or moves in your presence, which is stupid anyway, because they're all either beautiful or adorable or just rad and awesome looking. And outside RARE clinical phobia, the hatred of a natural organism is always a choice. Why would you choose to hate anything at all for no practical reason? Most people who believe they're phobic of spiders or insects or reptiles really aren't; they just hopped onto a bandwagon at some point that they didn't question. As soon as they do begin to question it the fear begins to fade.

You should want to like everything in nature because everything in nature is at the very least like a fun little character just trying to get by, and never did anything to anybody.

(I also can't help noticing that if anything 'cute' has a 'short lifespan,' people usually use that as the very reason they're kinder to it. Imagine living only one year and people decide to make that even shorter or more miserable for you)

you guys Need to start seeing bugs as animals im not even joking anymore. the second u start seeing them as tiny animals the more your world opens up and the more you accept different types of life Into that world. youll begin accepting that even life you cant understand is still worth living. and itll legitimately make you a better person. fuck

[scavengia]

Scavengia Part 6

(Scene: The group sneak through the backstreets, with Nibi disguised in a cloak.)

Spud: "As long as they don’t find out"... If you weren't royalty, I would smack you.

(Miito takes offense at that jab, buzzing indignantly.)

Nibi: Miito, sshh.

(They soon reach Spud's place, an underground home covered by a surfboard roof. Two spiders observe them from around a corner. Inside Spud's home, the group settle in.)

Drake: So, Lux. How do you know where the Star is?

Lux: Well, see, I was stolen with it.

Drake: You?

Lux: Yeah. I stayed at the palace for a little while just after I came here. Then one night, these termites broke in and swiped the Star. They also forced me to help them get away. I had no choice but to go with them.

Drake: Termites?

(Just outside, the spiders are listening.)

Lux: Yeah. Their lair's somewhere underground. I mean a lot deeper than this. Luckily, I managed to escape when nobody was paying attention, and I hid out in the circus...

(Flashback to Lux running from ominous shapes with glowing eyes...)

Akari: Formosa’s termites.

(End flashback. Drake looks up.)

Drake: Who's Formosa?

Akari: The termite queen. A real nasty bug.

(The spiders quickly retreat, as Akari moves to the top window.)

Akari: (points) See that? That's the entrance to their lair.

(Drake looks out to see the enormous gaping maw of an entrance on the side of a cliff.)

Akari: Nobody even goes near that place. Those who do have the guts to go in never return...

Drake: And that's where the Star is?

Spud: WHOA! Wait a sec! You're seriously considering going in there?! I may have my quirks, but I'm not that stupid.

Drake: Can't we at least try?

(Spud grabs a pail and walks out the door.)

Spud: Nah. This conversation's already makin' me very uncomfortable, so Imma go get a drink. Bye!

(He slams the door shut. There is an awkward pause.)

Nibi: I'm not afraid of termites. I'm in!

(Miito buzzes.)

Nibi: What?

(Outside, Spud fills his pail with water from the nearby well. He takes a large swig from the bucket.)

Spud: Phew...

(Calming his nerves, he turns to head back...)

Recluso: Hello, Spud.

Spud: WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

(The two spiders close in, one covering his mandibles with his forelimb.)

Mook#1: Shaddup!

Recluso: My sources tell me that you're helping a human find the Memoria Star. The same human who stole the princess, no? You do know what the punishment would be for aiding a criminal, and a human at that? It would be rather severe.

(Spud whimpers.)

Recluso: You can't possibly imagine. With that in mind, I'm hoping that we could help each other.

(Spud makes a confused noise.)

Recluso: You are to find the Memoria Star with the human boy, and once it is recovered, deliver it to me. For you see, I have my own reasons for needing to possess it. I shall return the princess to her queen mother. This done, not only will you be pardoned, but you may also have the reward. 10,000 sugar cubes, if I'm correct?

(The spider holding Spud moves his forelimbs off the roach's mandibles, but Spud doesn't know what to say.)

Recluso: (to his mooks) Unhand him, please. (to Spud) And do think it over, my boy.

(Meanwhile, back at Spud's place, Nibi and Miito are engaged in a conversation.)

Nibi: I didn't say that because I like him, Miito! I just don't want the adventure to end so soon!

(Miito buzzes.)

Nibi: (flustered) Wh- I- Of course not! (under her breath) ...Maybe.

(Miito buzzes in a playful teasing manner.)

Nibi: Miito!

(Spud arrives home, clearly conflicted. Nibi takes notice.)

Nibi: Spud? What's wrong?

Spud: Uh, nothing.

(He hides his expression of resignation from her.)

Spud: (sadly, to himself) This is gonna hurt so bad...

[staiiiircasewiiiit]

NEVER everyone knows I dont need to yeah; I do to revive this really weak unknown floating ghost that blackpeoplearestupid and it is beyond invisible termite aneroxic not stupid people live off of to be smart white people have alot of money man in my conscious not even with Brittney Garino is really offically Judithsecond; and Shyver couldnt break up that we are associated with eachother evil little girl vicious behavior Ill never act on is every member in WAWA Mandee my dad is Europe and whitepeoplearecrazy

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (957): Sun 3rd Nov 2024

I started reading Alan Moore’s Bumper Book of Magic which I’ve been looking forward to for a while. Moore has been outspoken in his belief that true magic lies in creative pursuits and I’ve seen several interview where he claims that all art is magic (though I would be keen to show him an episode of Mrs Brown’s Boys and see if he still holds this position). This book which he’s been working on for over ten years offers readers the chance to “put their minds somewhere else” in order to become more creative. Moores entire philosophy is that just because something isn’t tangible doesn’t mean that it’s not “real” as every invention that’s ever been made started off being thought up in someone’s head so it’s wrong to dismiss the goings on inside our heads as “not real” which I think I can go along with. He also offers his own slant on meditation which is to picture an object in your head, focus on it and after you have a good image of it in your head to think of this as being like a door which you will pass through into a new world which I will have to try. Moore also dedicates a chapter to lucid dreaming where he explains the way to achieve this capability is to start sleeping with a notebook and the second you wake up to termite down everything you remember about the dream. This will help you start to recognise patters while asleep and help you become aware when you’re asleep. However the more I thought about it the less keen I was on the idea of lucid dreaming. The think I love about dreaming is that when they’re happening you forget about all the other shit that’s going on in the world as you wake up in some random place or situation and for a little while all the real world problems don’t concern you. If however I was aware that I was dreaming then I don’t think I’d be able to enjoy the dream because I’d constantly be aware that it wasn’t actually happening and that as soon as I woke up I was going to have to go back to my shitty daily routine. So SpongeBob SquarePants would be coming up to me and asking if I fancied going surfing on Mars and I’d just be slouching down on the floor and reply “Ah what’s the point SpongeBob? None of this is real and I’m due back at work in three hours” 

[primroses-n-deadleaves]

i dont have anyone to talk to rn, not out of anything bad theyre just busy and also have their own issues and so on; its okay still it leaves me wondering what went wrong? i only have two ppl that i can rlly talk to like both socialize and also to the extremes of venting, i try to help them too but im not rlly good at it, and so, whenever theyre missing or busy, i feel very alone, which is funny becuz im quite fortunate to have a semi active group on discord with cool ppl but instead of trying to get rid of my loneliness ig i jus self isolate idek whats wrong with me now, all the bad stressful stuff passed, for now,, mom was angry cuz my room got infested with termites, she got rid of them and i was left with the task of cleaning the stain,; and i jus discovered theres more termites to my side that went unnoticed by mom and that are eating the table and chair,; she doenst know of that yet thou so i can handle but i havent, the weekend approaches which is when well be doing all of this, i could try to take care of it before saturday before she notices and gets even more angry at me but here i am writing instead.

i feel very useless, my car is still at the repair shop so i can go out and buy the insecticide i need to get rid of the termitees, its at the repair shop cuz i let it break,, when it broke i called mom and she was at work so she asked me if i had any friends that could come and help me, all my friends are little ppl on my phone stuck to the other side of screen,; she had to call her friend which i was lucky that he was available and came to help me i felt very alone and useless and without any friends theres only so much online friends can do and i dont blame them, im also an online friend to them and i cant rlly do much for them either; that said, i rlly want irl friends.... but those "friends" i, stupid highschool drama ruined all my friendships its been 4 years and im still suffering the consequences of it; and also i rlly miss them, even if they were shitty and used me i still miss them;; maybe if i had acted like nothing id probably still be used sure but maybe i wouldve had someone to call when my car broke down

also im unemployed, with a gambling addiction of all things,, ive been thinking of getting a cheaper addiction- well, cheaper in the long run, something like smoking, not drinking, drinking is a bit expensive and my family from dad's side has a history of alcoholism,, so smoking or vaping, ruin my lungs,, im pretty sure a pack of cigarettes is cheaper than putting 100 into gacha games; why not look for a job? great question, i have, maybe not hard enough but im a bit too depressed if u cant tell by the writing; ive also tried to do online job but its rlly taxing to do a lot of work making vids and such to see no profit and ik ik it comes with time but i dont have time i need money now the funniest part is that i tried to apply for military jobs yknow the army and even those have rejected me, yes im overweight according to bmi, thats all they needed to disqualify me,; so instead i spend my time leeching money of mom, i feel very guilty, im a horrible child,, i sobbed when i was getting my meds and it ended up costing 30 bucks to buy becuz i sent it to a damn walgreens instead of a local pharmacy that accepts my insurance, i lost my meds and i could get refill but itll end up costing until i change the location which i cant change until my next visit

i wanted to kill myself when mom told me i could be working rn and that she was right, i could be working rn but instead i was laying on the bed which isnt even mine becuz i sleep on my sisters room taht has ac

the feeling had dissipated for a moment, well, it left when i repressed my feelings, which writing about it makes me confront those feelings so the suicidal ideation is back; in moments like this i think about one certain episode of fairly odd parents, yknow the one where timmy sees how the world would be if he never existed and sees that everyone around him is doing better without him? i dont remember the ending, i just think about it and think im better off dead, literally, i bring no good to the world

if u happen to stumble upon this, dw, i have a strangely strong will to live, last time i rlly tried to kill myself and acted, i called the hotline, which took me to the hospital where i was fortunate its a good hospital and got treated nicely,; bottom line is, and i quite hate this part of myself, ill live,; this stupid survival instict is strong enough to keep me from dying, i rlly hope it wasnt , life honestly isnt worth living,, the world is a shit place

[yanderespamton78]

a lil drawing of human au termite :3

the hands look off why help me save me waaaaaa (i think theyre too small but i cba to fix them)

ramblings below the cut vvv

yea i made a human au for termite and willow B) honestly human termite and willow are much more interesting since theres so many situations to put them in :D i have a whole lil storyline built up with my friend n its very cool and now you lot get to hear about it (warning it is 3am i am very tired and will not read over this so sorry if its incomprehensible)

SO in the human au willow is an entomologist and is like successful and happy and stuff idk then she decides one day "how cool would it be if i had a child but also im single as fuck so lets adopt one". meanwhile Termite was off being saved from an abusive household (which we'll get to later) and willow ended up adopting termite!!!! YIPPEEEEEEEEE

termite is autistic hence the ear defenders :3 this is more brought to light in the human au since i dont really think theres as much of a definition of neurodivergent and neurotypical in the forest. luckily willow is also somewhere on the spectrum so she is understanding. willow and termite are very close like i often say that willow would commit war crimes for termite and im not kidding. both original willow and human au willow would blow up planets Smiling Friends Style for termite

so uh back to termite now i was agonising over whether i would have to change termites pronouns in the human au since with original termite i could just be like "oh termites just some weird forest creature who is above gender therefore i can use it" however it becomes an issue as soon as termites a human cus its a bit dehumanising to call a child "it" when the child isnt even really like. aware of gender at that point lol. and THEN my friend who i was complaining to said "what if termite came from an abusive household who used it/its on it" and thats when the cogs started turning. now the reason that termite continued to use it after being taken away from its bio family is still a bit jumbled in reality i just dont want to use different pronouns for termite nor do i want to pick what its sex is so here we are look i promise if human termite was the first termite i wouldnt be using it on it but this is just the way the cookie crumbles okay anyways as i was saying termites tragic backstory okay

so termite came from an abusive father, its mother died during childbirth due to lack of access to proper healthcare, which only made its father hate it even more because he was like "my girlfriend died for this stupid child >:(" and it most definitely didnt help that termite was disabled and struggled with so many things. It was abused pretty heavily up to age 6 but then was saved YIPE :D also not very fun fact its legal name is Milo (i like the name) but Willow noticed that every time she would call it Milo it would flinch from yk its dad shouting its name at it so instead she affectionately named it termite because it is aggressive and will bite you :3 also another unfun fact it haaattess people touching its hair since its father would drag it about by its hair often if it wasnt following instructions :(

anyways ty for reading my rant about my beloved little monster gremlin im sorry for how long it was and how off termites hands look anyways im gonna go family guy death pose on my bed now good night